Feelings?

To him, that word just felt too heavy, too complicated.

Curtis's mind was flooded with flashes of the past-ones he couldn't stop.

Delia's sharp voice echoed in his ears, her eyes filled with disdain as she called him a cripple.

He remembered the birthday gift he'd thoughtfully picked out for her, lying shattered on the floor.

Her wild threats of suicide, screaming at him to sign the divorce papers...

Did he love her?

Of course he did.

That love might've snuck in quietly, but it had already rooted itself deep in his bones.

Even when she tore him apart, day after day, he stayed. Like some stubborn fool.

Backing down, forgiving her again and again.

Even when he was left bruised inside and out, part of him still clung to a small, pathetic hope-hope that maybe, just maybe, she'd turn around one day and really see him.

But he was close to giving up on that hope for good.

Then, just like that, she changed.

She started getting close to him, clumsily helping him, cooking meals, holding him as she cried.

She looked at him with eyes that sparkled, called him "babe," told him she loved him like she really meant it.

It felt unreal, like something out of a dream too pretty to be true.

He was confused, unsettled. His gut told him it might be a trap wrapped in sweetness.

But still, he couldn't stop that quiet joy fluttering in his chest.

It scared him.

It felt like being lost in a desert for ages-then suddenly, a mirage appeared. You know it's not real, but you still move toward it.

So what was he supposed to do?

Tell her, "Yes, I still love you. So much that it terrifies me"?

Or say, "I don't buy any of this sudden change, and I don't know if I ever will"?

Curtis slowly lifted his eyes and met Delia's gaze.

The way she looked at him-so full of hope, so intense-it felt like she could see right through him, every messy thought, every hidden fear.

His throat tightened. He bailed.

Curtis lowered his gaze and said with a calm, unreadable tone, "Your breakfast's getting cold. Just eat."

The light in Delia's eyes dimmed a little.

Still, she didn't give up. She leaned closer, pressing, "Talking doesn't make food any colder. Just tell me how you really see me now. I mean, you've got to admit, I've changed for the better, right?"

Curtis didn't answer right away.

Under the table, his hand curled into a loose fist.

Of course she was better-everything he'd ever craved.

But he worried that saying it out loud might shatter the fragile dream they were living in.

Maybe now just wasn't the time.

So, in the end, he only shook his head, keeping silent.

Seeing his closed-off expression, Delia bit back her disappointment.

She sighed and let it go, saying softly, "Fine. You don't have to tell me."

"But just so you know-I'll get it out of you eventually."

She shot him a cheeky grin, making Curtis freeze a little.

His ears turned red, and his gaze dropped to the plate in front of him.

Delia didn't notice.

She picked up her fork and quietly kept eating.

She'd hurt him too deeply before. Now, he was too scared to trust again.

But she had all the time in the world to show him-prove to him it was real this time.

After all, she owed him that much.

Breakfast ended in a strange sort of silence.

Curtis wiped his mouth with a napkin and turned his wheelchair, ready to head out.

"I'm going to work," he blurted, almost on instinct.

Just like any husband would say to his wife before leaving.

"Okay," Delia replied with a soft smile. "Drive safe."

She got up and walked him to the door, watching as he left with Noah.

Only when the car vanished into the distance did she slowly pull her gaze back.

Time to get to real business.

Delia turned and headed upstairs, returning to the bedroom.

She sat down, letting the memories from her last life at the Fleming family rush back.

Her parents died early. As the eldest daughter, she should've inherited most of the estate.

But those so-called relatives? They smiled to her face but were dying to skin her alive and snatch everything she had.

The bitterness in her chest flared up fast.

Breathe... Calm down, Delia.

She needed a solid plan. No rushing this.

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, forcing herself to clear her mind.

Her phone buzzed on the table, screen lighting up with a new message.

Sender: Edward Fleming.

Her stomach twisted. Bad feeling incoming.

She tapped the screen. The message popped up:

[Delia, have you thought about the equity transfer we talked about? I'm only suggesting this for your own good. A girl managing a company is tough. Why not hand over that chunk of shares to me? I can take care of it for you. You could use the free time to be with Curtis, strengthen your marriage. Let me know when it works for you. Just sign when you're ready.]

Her fingers clenched around the phone so tightly, her knuckles went pale.

This was it. The same trick all over again.

Last life, Edward used this fake concern to coax and pressure her-plus some added whispers from Isabelle and Nathan. Dumb and foggy-headed, she signed away her power.

Curtis had tried to warn her, and she'd brushed it off.

And once she was no longer useful, Edward didn't even hesitate-cut her off cold.

Blood ties? Meant nothing to him when money was involved.

If he had no shame, why should she play nice?

Her chest burned with fury that nearly drowned out reason.

She stared at the screen, lips slowly curving into a cold smile.

Dear Uncle Edward...

Not this time.

Let's see how it feels to get trapped in your own web.

*****

Night fell, city lights flickered alive.

Curtis wrapped up his workday and returned to the villa.

Noah opened the car door and helped him settle into the wheelchair with practiced ease.

He was already ready for this.

Today, almost without thinking, he'd turned down a not-so-urgent dinner and left work right on time.

Not that he could explain why...

Was it Delia he was waiting for?

The thought lingered as he stared out the window.

But as the villa door slowly opened, something completely different hit him.

The smell of food hung warm and inviting in the air.

He could hear soft sounds coming from the kitchen.

He froze on the spot, a little dazed.

Home.

That word used to just mean walls and silence.

Or worse, the look of disgust Delia used to give him every time she had to see him here.

She never wanted to stay-even a second longer. And he got used to hiding at the office till late night.

But things were different now.

She was home. And the light was on.

The scent of food drifting out-it felt real. And comforting.

While he stood there lost in his thoughts, Delia came out of the kitchen with a plate of ribs, the glaze golden and mouthwatering.

She spotted him right away, a bright smile lighting up her face.

"You're back!" she called out, voice full of warmth.

Delia hurriedly set the plate down on the dining table and didn't even bother wiping her hands.

She jogged over to him, instinctively taking over the handles of his wheelchair and pushing him towards the dining area.

"Just in time. I made a few dishes-hope they're your kind of thing."

She was still wearing a pale pink apron, and her hair was casually tied up. A few loose strands framed her face. Delia lowered her gaze slightly, eyes full of anticipation.

Curtis had never seen her like this, and something in him stirred.

Feeling her excitement, his usually rigid frame gradually relaxed.

He looked up at the table-nothing fancy, but clearly made with care. Then his eyes landed on Delia's expression-as if pleading for praise.

He couldn't help but smile a little, his voice softening without him noticing. "Yeah. I'm home."

"Looks good." Curtis's tone was light.

Just a simple comment, but it lit up Delia's whole face.

"Really? I spent so much time on it!"

The dinner vibe was cozy and warm.

Delia kept piling food onto his plate, chattering nonstop about how she cooked each dish.

Curtis mostly listened quietly, throwing in a few words here and there.

Noah quietly set the table beside them, watching this surprisingly peaceful moment unfold. He still found it a bit hard to believe.

But even he had to admit, this version of Mr. Stockton felt more approachable.

He sighed inwardly, starting to see Delia in a somewhat different light.

Maybe... this wasn't such a bad thing.

At least for now, Mr. Stockton and Delia seemed to be getting along just fine.

*****

After dinner, Curtis went to handle some unfinished business in the study, with Noah following him in.

About an hour later, the door was gently knocked.

"Come in," Curtis said without looking up.

Delia stepped inside, a faint trace of worry lingering on her face.

Clutching her phone, she walked in slightly hesitantly.

"Babe..." she called softly, "there's something I need your help with. Can you take a look?"

Curtis finally looked up, noticed her uneasy expression, and immediately put the file down.

"What is it?" he asked, frowning slightly.

Noah subtly fell silent.

Delia approached the desk and handed him her phone.

On the screen was a message from Edward, along with an attached share transfer agreement.

"It's from my uncle, Edward. He contacted me today, said the Fleming Group's in financial trouble and needs consolidated shares to ride out the storm. He wants me to sign this and let him manage my shares."

Curtis took the phone, scanning the message and the attached document quickly but thoroughly.

The more he read, the deeper his frown.

The terms in the agreement were seriously harsh.

If she signed this, Delia would basically lose most of her benefits from the company.

He slowly looked up, his eyes sharp. "Pooling shares to survive the crisis? That's quite the strategy he's playing."

"If I'm not mistaken, you're actually the majority shareholder right now?"

Delia nodded. "Yeah... I just don't want to be involved in running the company..." She scratched her head a little sheepishly.

Curtis gave a small, warm smile before shifting tone. "What he wants is to push you out, plain and simple."

"Giving up your shares is easy. Getting them back? Not so much."

"That man... what a piece of work." His voice dripped with sarcasm.

Then a thought hit him.

Delia might not be tight with the family, but she still trusted them, maybe even leaned on them a little.

Last time he gave her a heads-up, she pretty much chewed him out.

Now here he was calling Edward out like this...

Would she lose it again?

Curtis glanced at her, bracing himself for another round of backlash.

But what he saw-was her eyes slightly red.

Delia didn't get angry at all. Instead, she nodded hard. "You're right. I've had a weird feeling about it too-I just can't put my finger on it. Babe, keep talking, I'll go with whatever you say!"

So Curtis had seen right through Edward's little scheme from the start.

But in her past life, she never cared about him. Worse, she even blamed him.

Delia thought about how she'd been so blinded by family ties that she completely ignored Curtis's warning.

She'd thrown harsh words at him, and in the end, paid the price.

Now, this same man-after everything-still stood firmly on her side without hesitation, no strings attached.

Her chest ached with guilt.

Thank god... it wasn't too late.

There was still time to make things right.

Guilt and gratitude came rushing up like a wave, and she couldn't hold it in anymore. She stepped forward and leaned down to wrap her arms around Curtis, her voice choked, "Babe... thank you..."

The sudden hug caught Curtis off guard. He stiffened instantly.

Then he felt her warm tears seeping through his shirt, dampening his shoulder.

It was like her warmth burned right through to his heart, and he shivered slightly.

After a second of awkward pause, he slowly lifted his arms and returned the hug, patting her back a little stiffly.

"It's alright," he said in a low, gentle voice. "I've got you."

Off to the side, Noah looked at the embracing couple, mouth open, at a total loss for words.

Mr. Stockton... you guys do realize I'm still standing right here, right?

He silently lowered his head, trying to become invisible and zen his way out of third-wheeling so hard.

That's when Delia finally seemed to remember he was even there. She quickly let go, a little embarrassed.

Curtis cleared his throat, trying to keep it together, and started analyzing the situation again.

"Edward's intentions couldn't be clearer. Just ignore him and flat-out reject the offer."

His voice was steady and firm. "You hold the largest share in the company now. You've got the upper hand. If you're not planning to take the reins yourself, then there's no way you can let Edward swoop in and take over."

He paused briefly. "With the shares you've got, you're more than able to appoint a trustworthy successor."

"Your father put his life into Fleming Group. Don't let someone that shady take it over."

Delia listened quietly, thoughts already clear in her mind.

That was exactly her plan-to use her shareholder status to support someone capable of running Fleming Group.

That way, the company stays safe, and Edward can forget about having his way.

And as for Edward... she'd deal with him in due time.

But looking at Curtis now, seeing how serious and thoughtful he was being on her behalf, her heart filled with a sweet warmth.

She tilted her head and blinked up at him. "You make a good point..."

"So... got anyone in mind? I trust you-you've got an eye for people."

Curtis glanced up and met her playful, teasing gaze. He knew she was messing with him again.

Still, he took her seriously and gave her a couple of solid names with good reputations in the business world.

His focused, no-nonsense attitude only made Delia's heart flutter even more.

She leaned in so close they were almost cheek to cheek. "My husband's amazing. You know everything. With you here, I feel like I can handle anything... What can I do to thank you, hmm?"

Her warm breath brushed past his ear, and that soft scent of hers made his skin tingle.

Curtis's ears turned visibly red.

He looked away, obviously flustered, and forced himself to put on a straight face. "Be good. We're discussing serious stuff."

Seeing him work so hard to hide how shy he was had Delia bursting with silent laughter.

She grinned, "Alright then, I'll go take a closer look. Thanks for the guidance, babe!"

With that, she practically skipped out of the study, light on her feet.

Curtis watched her leave. Only when the door finally shut behind her did he let out a slow breath.

He reached up and touched the tips of his ears, still burning hot.

Yep. His face was definitely red.

When did Delia even learn how to flirt like that?

The next morning, Delia slowly woke up, still feeling a bit groggy.

To her surprise, she was curled up in Curtis's arms. His arm was wrapped loosely around her, breathing calm and steady.

Warm sunlight trickled in through the curtains, casting a soft glow on his peaceful sleeping face and throwing his sharp features into gentle relief.

Delia's heart gave a tiny jolt. A playful impulse bubbled up from nowhere.

She hesitated, then carefully lifted her head, holding her breath.

In a flash, she leaned in and brushed a feather-light kiss against his lips.

But as she pulled back, a pair of deep, clear eyes met hers.

Wait... had Curtis been awake all along?

Delia froze.

He was watching her quietly, his eyes too clear for someone who had just woken up.

It felt like he'd been looking at her like that for a while.

In an instant, her cheeks flamed red-bright and hot like she'd just been set on fire.

Being caught stealing a kiss left her completely flustered and at a loss for words.

"I... uh... I just..." she stammered.

Then she practically launched herself out of bed, tossing the blanket aside. "I'm gonna wash up!"

Before Curtis could even react, she had already dashed into the bathroom and slammed the door shut.

He gazed at her fleeing figure, then slowly reached a hand to his lips, fingertips grazing the spot she'd kissed. That soft touch still lingered.

His face stayed unreadable.

"Delia..." he murmured.

A faint blush crept up from his neck to the edges of his ears.

*****

Delia let cold water splash on her face for quite a while before the burning sensation on her cheeks cooled down.

Once she pulled herself together and came out, she found Curtis already sitting up, resting against the headboard.

"Hey, babe, let me help you get up to wash up," she offered, still sounding a little shy.

"I've got it," Curtis replied.

His eyes flicked briefly to her outstretched hand, pausing just a moment too long.

That flicker-a mix of hesitation and resistance-didn't escape Delia's notice.

Her chest tightened. He was still struggling with the self-consciousness his injury had left him.

And she knew, deep down, it was probably her past harsh words that made it worse.

Which only made her more determined to be there for him now.

Before he could refuse again, she gently and firmly took his arm. "It's fine. Let me help you."

With her steady support, Curtis got into his wheelchair, and she wheeled him to the bathroom.

She prepared his toothbrush and laid out warm water, then stepped back quietly to give him space.

She didn't hover or take over-just stayed nearby in case he needed anything.

Her measured, thoughtful care helped ease the tension in Curtis's shoulders a bit.

Then came a soft knock at the bedroom door.

Followed by Edith's polite voice, "Sir, someone from the Stockton estate is here. Says it's important and they wish to speak with you."

Curtis paused mid-movement, a barely noticeable crease forming between his brows.

Visits from the old house rarely meant anything good-usually blame, or demands out of nowhere.

Back then, Delia wouldn't just stand by doing nothing. She used to mock him, sometimes even make things worse.

Hearing that, Delia's stomach dropped.

Old memories came flooding back, all unpleasant.

She glanced at Curtis and saw the subtle storm brewing in his eyes. Clearly, he didn't want to deal with this right now.

A thought popped into her head.

"Tell them to wait downstairs," Delia called out toward the door.

Then, turning to Curtis, she softened her voice. "You go wash up, I'll handle the people downstairs."

Curtis shot her a surprised look.

Delia wanted to face the Stockton family for him?

Wasn't she the one who usually kept her distance from this kind of mess, even secretly wishing the family would make things hard for him?

Seeing the confusion in his eyes, Delia's guilt deepened.

But she forced a small smile. "I'm your wife, remember? Isn't that part of the job?"

"Babe, don't worry. They're in our house, not like they can cause real trouble."

There wasn't a trace of hesitation in her steady gaze.

Curtis stayed silent a beat, then finally gave a slight nod. "Just be careful."

With his okay, Delia took a deep breath and straightened herself up.

She opened the door and said to Edith, who was waiting outside, "Edith, take me to them."

Edith looked slightly stunned for a second, but quickly regained her composure and replied politely, "Of course, ma'am. This way please."

Down in the living room, a few people sat with visible arrogance etched on their faces.

As soon as they saw it was only Delia coming down, the air shifted-clearly displeased.

The middle-aged man in front, Curtis's father, Craig Stockton, let out a cold snort and said with disdain, "Just you? Where's Curtis? Thinks he's too important to greet his own father now?"

Delia actually chuckled. "Wow, this is something... Barging into someone else's house uninvited, yelling like you own the place. And now you wanna micromanage when my husband decides to come say hi?"

The moment her words dropped, the room stiffened.

"Delia!" Craig's face darkened, "That's your tone? Who gave you the nerve to talk to me like that? Edith, go get Curtis right now, make him see what kind of woman he married!"

Watching him lose it over one sentence, Delia just smiled calmly.

"Sir, I think you're barking up the wrong tree."

Her tone was lazy but sharp. "Calling your daughter-in-law rude without a second thought-don't you think that says more about your own manners?"

Delia hadn't cared much about Curtis in her previous life, but even then, she knew Craig never saw him as worthy. He only doted on Matthew, his son with Vanessa Granger.

Seeing that kind of blatant favoritism now, she couldn't help but feel angry for Curtis.

"You... You've completely lost your mind!" Craig choked on his fury, his face turning red from blue as he lashed out.

"Dad, why waste words on her?" Matthew snapped from beside him.

He glared at Delia with that snake-like stare, oozing provocation.

Next to him, Vanessa added sharply, "Craig, don't bother arguing with her, just make Curtis come down."

"This rude girl-she..." Craig fumed, but then a deep, calm voice cut him off.

"No need to call for me. I'm here." Curtis slowly appeared at the staircase.

He'd changed into a crisp shirt, his expression even colder than usual.

He wheeled himself over to Delia's side, stopping just slightly ahead of her.

The second Craig saw him, he immediately redirected his anger.

"Curtis, good timing. Tell me straight-are you behind what's happening with Matthew?!"

Curtis's brows drew together slightly, while Delia, standing next to him, felt a sharp flicker of confusion.

Matthew was getting targeted?

It reminded her of the recent attempt on Curtis's life. And just like that, everything clicked into place.

So that's what's really going on.