Chapter 51: Waterworks.

Dua's heart raced as the fear that Steven heard her words crept in. His face remained unreadable, amplifying her anxiety. Silence enveloped them like a heavy blanket, and Dua could hear her heart pounding in her ears as she awaited his reaction. Her siblings were frozen in shock, their eyes darting between her and him, waiting for something—anything—to happen.

"Breakfast is ready." Steven finally broke the silence, his tone casual and unaffected as if he hadn’t just stepped into the middle of their private moment. Dua felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment, a wild mix of shame and dread surging through her. Had he really just brushed off her words? Or was he concealing something deeper beneath his cool demeanor?

"Great!" Denise chirped, shattering the tension as she leaped from the couch. "I’m starving! Let’s eat!" She grabbed Desmond's hand, yanking him up as if the crisis had never happened.

"Right!" Desmond echoed but shot a teasing glance back at Dua. "Can’t wait to see what love tastes like!"

Dua shot him a glare, mortified, but as they filed into the kitchen, Steven’s steady presence seemed to cut through the lingering awkwardness. Dua felt like she was teetering on the edge of a chasm, uncertain and terrified of what lay below.

Once in the kitchen, the breakfast spread was a delightful sight: pancakes stacked high, fluffy scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and an array of fresh fruit adorned the table like a portrait of a perfect morning. Yet, Dua’s mind was a whirlpool, too consumed by her confession to truly appreciate the feast laid before her.

"Dig in!" Steven encouraged, his voice warm and inviting. Dua stole glances at him across the table, the way he engaged with her siblings even though he didn't speak much, unnerved her further. His calm demeanor perplexed her—how could he be so unfazed?

"Dua?" Steven called, drawing her attention back to him. "You okay? You’ve been awfully quiet."

"Uh, yeah! Just... enjoying the breakfast," she stammered, forcing a smile that felt more like a flimsy facade than genuine cheer. When she met his gaze, there was a softness in his eyes that brought a new wave of questions crashing down on her.

Steven nodded, returning to his food, and Dua’s heart slowly stilled.

“Where’s Shane?” she asked, glancing around the table.

“He stepped out early,” Steven replied, and she nodded.

“And Mom?” Dua inquired, concern knitting her brow.

“Sleeping,” Desmond answered, his voice casual.

“Sleeping?” Dua echoed, surprised. “Is she alright?” Her worry intensified.

“Aside from being tired from knitting all night, she’s fine.” Desmond shrugged, dismissing her concern too easily.

Dua sighed, rubbing her temples in frustration. “How do I get her to stop knitting?”

“It’s just knitting; it won’t harm her,” Steven said, attempting to soothe her worries.

“I know, but…” She sighed again, the weight of her concerns pressing down on her. “Never mind.” With that, she stood up and left the table.

Steven waited for her usual return to finish her breakfast, but after ten minutes of silence, unease settled within him. Deciding to check on her, he walked toward her bedroom.

Upon entering, he caught Dua in the act of hastily wiping her face, quickly adjusting herself to appear composed.

“I’m fine,” she said with a forced smile.

“I didn’t ask you,” Steven replied nonchalantly, his stride approaching her.

“I don’t want to hear the reason behind your tears; I’m definitely not in the mood for stories right now. But do stop the waterworks; it’s making my bedroom ugly,” he added matter-of-factly.

Dua scoffed, glaring at him. “Are you trying to calm me down or make me angry?”

“Both,” he smirked.

With her glare sharpening, she shot back, “Get out.”

“Excuse me, young woman; this is my bedroom,” he countered, his smirk broadening.

“Don’t make me take it all out on you,” she warned, her cheeks flushing with anger as her fists clenched at her sides.

“Bring it on,” he challenged, leaning casually against the wall.

In a swift motion, Dua swung her fist at him, but he caught it effortlessly, pulling her into his warm embrace. Shocked by his unexpected action, she froze, her heart racing.

"Don't worry," he murmured, his voice a soft balm against her turbulent thoughts. "Whatever made you cry is gonna be okay."

She looked up at him, her heart melting at his comforting words as they coaxed her tears back. "You knew you were going to say this all along, didn’t you? Why did you make me angry with you first?" The thought echoed silently in her heart.

Each memory of her mother's illness made tears well in her eyes, but she had resolved to carry that burden alone. Steven had already done so much for her; she didn’t want to pile more woes onto his shoulders.

"I told you, it’s making my bedroom ugly," Steven remarked playfully, breaking her somber reverie.

Dua laughed, pulling away from his embrace. "You idiot."

"Now, will you come finish your breakfast?" he asked, his voice teasing yet gentle.

"No, I'm full," she replied, shocking him with her sudden disinterest in food. She had never been uninterested in food.

He walked to his wardrobe and retrieved a small black box, returning with a determined look on his face. "Follow me," he commanded softly, and though hesitant, she obliged.

They strolled into the garden, where Steven immediately became engrossed with his bodyguards, who had called him over for something urgent. Moments later, he returned to her side, eyeing her with an intensity that made her feel slightly uncomfortable.

"What?" Dua asked, a playful challenge in her voice.

"Watch me," he instructed, a smirk playing on his lips.

"What? Why should I do that?" she countered, arching an eyebrow.

"Because it’ll fill your mind with dirty thoughts instead of the worried ones swirling around in that beautiful head of yours." He replied.

Dua scoffed, pretending to wind up for a punch, but her irritation was undercut by the flutter in her stomach at his compliment.

Unbothered, Steven opened the box to reveal a sleek camera. “Photography?!” Dua exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. “You’re into photography?”

Steven nodded. “It’s my favorite recreational activity.”

“Wow, what a coincidence! I’m into photography too; I've got a knack for it,” she chirped, enthusiasm bubbling up in her voice.

“Really?” Steven asked, intrigued as he adjusted his camera settings.

“Mmm, I’ve been taking pictures since I was little,” she replied, a sense of pride evident in her tone.

“If that’s the case…” He handed the camera to her, gesturing for her to give it a try.

Dua took the camera eagerly and snapped a picture of a vibrant flower, showcasing it proudly to Steven with a triumphant smirk.

He studied the image carefully, almost speechless.

“What? It’s too perfect, right?” she teased, wiggling her brows playfully.

“No, it’s just that I can’t find the right words…” His voice trailed off.

“Wait, what do you mean? What’s wrong with the picture?” she pressed, confusion flickering across her face.

“Everything,” he replied.

“It must be your camera then—something isn’t right with it,” she quickly suggested, trying to deflect the criticism.

Taking back the camera, Steven snapped a shot of the same flower before turning the display toward her. “It’s not the camera. It’s you,” he said earnestly.

The picture was a thousand times better.

Embarrassment washed over Dua, and she felt the urge to leave. But before she could, he gently held her hand, placing the camera back in her palm. “Now listen attentively to your instructor,” he instructed, and she looked at him, surprised yet eager.

He shared a few insightful tips about photography, urging her to practice. As she immersed herself in her activity, Steven watched her intently, his mind drifting back to the words he had overheard when he entered the living room earlier. “Is she really in love with me, and why?” His thoughts spiraled, challenging him to confront his own feelings. Though undeniably drawn to her, he couldn't quite grasp the complete notion of love.

His ringing phone jolted him out of his thoughts. He answered the call, and after a brief conversation, turned to Dua. "I’ll be stepping out for a while," he said, his demeanor shifting to one of focus. "Keep practicing; I’ll be back soon to review how much you've learned."

Dua nodded, her concentration unbroken as she continued her activity.

A few minutes later, her siblings arrived at the garden, relief washing over Denise's features as she spotted Dua. "Oh, there you are! We’ve been looking everywhere for you."

Still absorbed in her task, Dua replied, "You need anything?"

Desmond, looking a bit sheepish, piped up, "Yeah. I need to buy something important, and I don’t have any cash on me."

With a reassuring smile, Dua said, "No worries! I’ll just take you both shopping."

Within minutes, they were on their way to the mall, Dua at the wheel of one of Steven's cars. The car ride was filled with the comfortable banter of siblings, but as they merged into the parking lot, Dua spotted Steven exiting his car. Her heart skipped a beat, and she was about to call out to him when she noticed a young woman alighting from the passenger side. The woman wrapped her arm around Steven's waist, and he reciprocated by pulling her closer as they walked toward the hotel adjacent to the mall.

"Hold on, guys. I’ll be back," Dua said, her voice steady but her heart racing. Confusion etched on her siblings’ faces, she swiftly traced her steps, following the silhouette of Steven and the unknown woman into the hotel lobby.

Dua’s heart shattered as she watched them enter a room together, an inexplicable heaviness settling in her chest. She took a deep breath and pulled out her phone, dialing Steven’s number. After two rings, his voice came through, casual yet guarded. "I’m listening."

"Where are you?" Dua demanded, her tone sharp, but laced with an underlying vulnerability.

"Why are you asking?" Steven countered, his curiosity piquing.

"Just answer the question," she responded, her voice firm.

Though uncertain of her intentions, he replied, "In a meeting with a business partner."

"A man or a woman?" Dua asked, urgency creeping into her voice.

"A Man," Steven answered, a hint of confusion in his voice.

"Why are you..." He was saying but she hung up on him.