Chapter 73: Married To An Old Man.

Dua’s breath hitched as dread etched its way across her features. The flickering light cast a sinister glow around Steven as she slowly turned to face him.

Hearing footsteps approaching the kitchen, Steven quickly reverted everything to its normal state, but Dua's expression remained—a portrait of confusion and apprehension.

“Hi, guys!” Desmond greeted as he stepped into the chaotic kitchen, his eyes widening at the sight. “Holy moly, sis! Why did you cook?!”

“I didn’t cook!” Dua defended, her voice a mix of indignation and embarrassment.

“You did! You’re the only one who cooks and never cleans up!” Desmond argued, exasperation evident in his tone as Dua rolled her eyes and settled heavily at the dining table.

Desmond turned to Steven, his tone shifting to conciliatory. “I sincerely apologize on my sister's behalf. Back home, she was the breadwinner of our family. To balance work and cooking, she never had time to clean. So we usually clean up for her, and now she’s just… accustomed to it.”

Steven felt a pang of guilt wash over him for being annoyed with Dua earlier—the first time she cooked. He had failed to see the bigger picture and the pressures she faced.

“You guys go ahead with breakfast; I’ll clean up,” Desmond offered, stepping toward the mess. But as Steven opened his mouth to respond, Shane entered the room, cutting him off.

“Leave it! I’ll handle it after breakfast,” Shane interjected firmly, taking Desmond by the hand and guiding him toward the table.

Dua watched silently as Steven joined them, the tension between him and her and between him and his brother hanging heavily in the air. Denise soon joined, but only Desmond and Denise exchanged lively conversation, filling the silence left by the others.

“What’s with you three?” Denise questioned, her eyes darting between Dua, Steven, and Shane, curiosity laced with concern.

“Nothing,” Shane replied, brushing off the simmering tension. “Just lost in our thoughts.”

“Yep,” Dua echoed, forcing a smile.

“I was also thinking… since you both are living with us now, would you like to go back to school?” Shane proposed, his tone warm and inviting. “I’ll take full responsibility for your schooling,” he added, looking directly at Denise and Desmond.

For a brief moment Desmond and Denise wore unreadable expressions as they turned to Dua, who offered them a supportive smile.

"That was my plan too, but he’s faster than me, so I’ll let him take the lead," Dua said lightly.

"Thank you so much," Denise replied, her gratitude evident on her face.

"Yeah, thanks," Desmond added, nodding appreciatively.

"It’s nothing," Shane smiled back at them, warmth radiating from his demeanor. "I’ll take you both to school tomorrow to register."

Exchanging knowing glances, Shane and Dua shared a smile as they continued with their breakfast, the atmosphere lightening. However, Steven remained silent, lost in his thoughts.

After breakfast, Desmond and Shane started to clean up the kitchen, but Steven stepped forward and offered to take over. After a moment of hesitation, they relented, allowing him to handle it.

Meanwhile, Dua retraced her steps to the bedroom, sinking onto her bed as the unsettling thoughts of Steven’s past lingered in her mind. "So, if he really has lived a thousand years after the supposed curse… he’s 1,024 years old," she muttered to herself.

A mix of disbelief and humor washed over her. "Wow, Dua, you're literally married to an old man," she chuckled softly. "Guess I fell for someone who’s an eternity older than me."

Her phone beeped, jolting her from her thoughts. She picked it up to see a message in her department's group chat announcing that the afternoon class had been canceled.

"Thank goodness," she sighed, feeling relieved. "I’m really not in the mood to go to school today."

As she dropped her phone back on the bed, it beeped again. This time, it was a text from Bob: "Just a friendly reminder, your two-day timeline is expired."

"I'll make sure I conquer you and teach you an unforgettable lesson," she vowed quietly, determination simmering beneath her surface.

Just then, Steven entered the room, a hint of surprise on his face. "I never knew you were such a good cook," he complimented, moving closer to her.

Dua rolled her eyes, crossing her arms defensively. “How would you? The first time I cooked, you were so mad about the mess I made in the kitchen that you didn’t even bother tasting the meal.”

A pang of guilt twisted in his chest. “I’m sorry... I didn’t realize the reason you never cleaned up afterward was because you had to balance cooking and work as the breadwinner of your family.”

“That’s why you shouldn’t be so quick to judge people,” she shot back, her tone sharper than intended.

“I am a nice person, I swear! It’s just that you don’t see that side of me, and that’s why we keep clashing,” he defended, frustration creeping into his voice.

“I understand you now,” he said, trying to soften the moment with a gentle gaze. But Dua, lost in her thoughts, didn’t meet his eyes.

“It’s you who haven’t made an effort to understand me,” he added.

"Because you didn't give me a chance to understand you. Even now I'm struggling hard to do so," she replied.

"I gave you the chance to understand me a long time ago when I began to understand you," he said.

“No,” she shook her head, a mix of sadness and determination in her eyes. “You still haven't. You don’t know how happy I was when you hugged me earlier in the kitchen—when you embraced me so emotionally and passionately. I thought maybe you were starting to see me the way I see you. But I was foolish; I didn’t realize you were just happy to have found your first love… who you think is me.” The hurt in her voice cut deep.

“Dua,” he reached out, hoping to gently capture her hand, but she pulled away, retreating from him as if he were fire.

“I’m going to the Sierre residence,” she stated firmly, her jaw set with resolve. “I need to inform them that you’ve finally agreed to become the Mafia Lord so we can figure out the next steps.”

“Don’t you have classes today?” he asked, his eyes never wavered from hers, even though she deliberately averted her gaze.

“They were canceled,” she responded curtly, not willing to let him in any further.

With that, she turned and left the bedroom, leaving him behind with a heavy sigh—a mix of regret and confusion swirling within him.