Delia's heart surged with joy, her pulse racing like it couldn't keep up.

Her eyes welled up for a second, momentarily stunned.

He actually pulled her into his arms-instinctively.

Curtis, oh Curtis... how did she never notice how much you cared?

The car steadied after a brief jolt.

Curtis, realizing his sudden move might've overstepped, immediately let go and nudged her back to her seat, slipping into his usual cool-headed demeanor.

"Sit properly. The road's bumpy," he said flatly, his eyes returning to the window.

But the faint flush creeping up his ears quietly betrayed him.

Delia's lips curled up in a small smile.

She took hold of his hand before he could fully retract it, clinging on like it was the most natural thing.

Her face lifted toward him, eyes bright and teasing. "Hubby, were you worried I'd bump into something? That's why you held me, right?"

Curtis froze, caught off guard. He tried to withdraw his hand, but she had a firm grip on him.

Avoiding her gaze, he swallowed hard, Adam's apple shifting ever so slightly.

Lips tightening, he stayed silent.

But to Delia, that silence screamed louder than any words.

She felt like fireworks had just gone off in her chest.

It's working-her plan was actually working.

Knowing she'd reached her goal, she let go, though she didn't move away from him at all.

"Got it, I'll sit tight. Won't cause you trouble, hubby."

Her voice was soft, almost ticklish, brushing against Curtis's nerves like a feather.

It rattled him-unexpected, yet somehow... familiar. He didn't know how to feel.

But the tender moment didn't last.

Before long, the car rolled up to the poshest hotel in downtown Oceanvale.

Noah expertly parked, got out, and swung open the back door.

"Mr. Stockton, we've arrived."

Curtis nodded, maneuvering his wheelchair to exit.

Delia followed, her eyes automatically drifting up to the glitzy hotel entrance.

She froze, her expression draining of all color.

If she wasn't mistaken, this was the place where Curtis had been attacked.

The hazy memories from her past life started coming back in a rush.

Back then, she'd been flying high from their smooth divorce, too elated to care what he was going through.

Even when Curtis ended up in the hospital, she'd been preoccupied chasing after Nathan.

It wasn't until someone else told her that she finally realized-just a day after the divorce, Curtis had been seriously injured.

Her breath hitched, chest tightening.

"You can't go in there," she blurted out, voice quivering. "Let's just go... go back home, okay?"

Noah was mid-motion unfolding the wheelchair when he heard her sudden protest. His eyebrows scrunched deep.

This woman, she really couldn't go five minutes without acting up.

Seriously?

She'd already been weird in the car-now this?

Curtis paused too.

He turned to look at Delia, frown creasing his forehead.

She had no clue what was running through his mind right then.

All she could do was silently hope-hope he'd still be willing to accept her waywardness like he used to.

His gaze was hard to read as he asked in a low, steady voice, "Delia, what are you talking about?"

Her heart jumped. Big time.

She realized she'd slipped-again-and if she didn't come up with a good cover, things would get way too sketchy.

But this? This secret was the one thing she could never, ever reveal.

What was she supposed to do? Just say, "Hey, I know because you get stabbed in there"?

What if she couldn't stop the ambush? Wouldn't that mean she basically walked him right into the trap?

In that split second, she had to come up with a more believable excuse.

"Ugh..." She clutched her chest, frowning deeply, her voice soft and shaky. "Babe, I'm feeling really awful all of a sudden. Dizzy, and my heart's racing... Do you think I'm getting sick?"

She even squeezed out a couple of tears, trying to look as pitiful as possible.

Her acting wasn't exactly award-worthy-the panic in her eyes hadn't fully faded-but when someone cares, they don't always notice the cracks.

Curtis saw the tear sliding down her cheek, and just like that, his heartstrings got pulled tight.

He didn't push for answers anymore, instead focusing on her pale face.

Delia hardly ever got sick, but whenever she said something wasn't right, he always dealt with it-whether she appreciated it or not.

"Where exactly does it hurt?" Curtis asked, his tone low and serious.

"I don't know... just feel awful." Delia leaned against him, her voice soft. "Can we not go in? I just want to go home and rest a bit with you."

She caught the slight shift in Curtis's expression and held back a smile.

"Boss." Noah finally couldn't stay quiet, his voice edged with urgency. "The meeting's about to start!"

He was fuming.

That woman again-same old tricks.

Did she really have no guilt?

Curtis hesitated for just a fleeting moment.

He looked down at Delia curled up in his arms, eyes full of conflict and worry.

But worry won out in the end.

"Let's go," he said, voice steady but firm. "We'll find another time for the meeting. Hospital comes first."

"Boss..." Noah tried again, desperate.

But the second he met Curtis's anxious gaze, the rest of his words died on his lips.

He clamped his mouth shut in frustration.

He should've seen this coming.

When it came to Delia, Curtis's rules went straight out the window.

No matter how much she hurt him before, he just couldn't bring himself to be cold to her.

Why?

Noah simmered with anger but had no choice-orders were orders.

He helped Curtis and Delia back into the car, turned it around, and headed toward the top private hospital downtown.

In the backseat, Delia secretly let out a breath of relief.

Crisis averted. For now.

She stayed snuggled against Curtis, still faking weakness.

But inside, his quick decision to put her first made her feel warm-and, truthfully, a little smug.

He still cared. That much was clear.

How'd she mess this up so badly in her last life?

With a husband like this, what was she even thinking?

All the way there, Curtis held her gently, and it almost made her forget where they were going.

Eyes half-closed, she quietly soaked in his warmth.

But as the car pulled up to the hospital entrance, Delia finally snapped back to reality.

She froze.

That all-too-familiar white building came into view, and her face instantly went ghost-pale.

Last time, after that fire left her horribly burned, this was where they brought her.

The pain from those burns hurt more than dying-every breath felt like tearing her flesh apart.

She'd wanted to die so many times, anything to escape that slow torture.

And Isabelle, pretending to be caring, had bribed the hospital staff to mess up her treatment.

Wrong meds, wrong bandaging-every mistake made the agony worse.

Her injuries hadn't even been that severe at first, but they ended up ruining her completely. Scarred beyond recognition.

The memories slammed into her like a freight train.

Cold, unforgiving needles. The searing pain. The staff's detached eyes.

And Isabelle's fake smile, smug and twisted with malice...

Hatred tangled with fear inside her.

Just stepping near the hospital made Delia feel like she'd fallen into ice water.

Her fingers clenched tight, cold sweat breaking out on her forehead.

That pain flashed back-her skin being peeled like it was on fire, the sting of chemicals-all of it burned into her memory like scars branded on the soul.

Noah opened the car door and moved to help Curtis and Delia out.

But suddenly, Delia latched onto Curtis's arm.

"No... I can't go in!" She shook her head frantically, tears streaming down her cheeks uncontrollably. "Please, honey, take me home!"

Watching her melt down again, Noah had obviously run out of patience.

"Ma'am, you insisted on coming because you felt unwell, and now we're at the entrance and you refuse to go in."

"Are you actually sick or not?"

Curtis's brows drew together slightly.

He gently held her icy hand, trying to calm her down.

He hesitated for a second before speaking in a softer, more personal tone. "Delia, we're already here. Let's just have the doctor take a look, that way we can treat it if something's really wrong."

Delia's heart was racing wildly.

She couldn't possibly explain that her fear came from the trauma of her past life.

But without a convincing excuse, Curtis might decide to go back to that meeting.

Everything she just did would be for nothing.

Clinging to Curtis, she looked up with teary eyes.

"Babe, I really don't feel good... but hospitals freak me out... It's just too much..."

Her voice trembled, full of pleading.

Curtis looked down at her tear-streaked face, unsure.

Right then, Noah's phone buzzed.

He stepped aside, frowning as he picked up.

As he listened, his face grew serious in an instant.

"I understand," he said, then rushed back toward them, lowering his voice. "Sir, there was an incident at the venue. Someone sneaked in with a knife and attacked another person... at your table. It's chaos over there. I think we should-"

Noah cut himself off, a worried look in his eyes.

"It's fine. Let's go back," Curtis said, calm as ever.

His brows furrowed a little tighter. He let out a cold breath in silence.

He'd gotten wind that something might go down, but he didn't expect they'd be this bold.

And as for who was really behind it-he had a few pretty solid guesses.

"Want me to find out who got hurt?" Noah asked casually, though he was really probing for permission to dig deeper.

Talking openly in front of Delia wasn't ideal, so he just made a face, slightly annoyed.

Curtis nodded. "Yeah."

Noah wasted no time, wheeling him back into the car in case more trouble came their way.

They'd dodged a bullet this time, but for all he knew, someone else could be after Curtis right now.

He started driving toward the Stockton villa, fast.

Curtis sat in the back, Delia close against him.

Seeing her just sitting there, spaced out, he instinctively put an arm around her, trying to comfort her.

But Delia wasn't calm at all.

She did it. She really changed what happened in her past life.

She blinked, holding on tighter to Curtis's arm.

Curtis gave her a thoughtful glance.

Was it just coincidence?

Delia tensed slightly under his gaze.

She quickly shoved down her excitement and snuggled closer, hiding her face in his chest. "Honey, my head's still spinning..."

That look of reliance in her eyes instantly softened Curtis's doubts.

His expression melted into something gentler.

As long as she was okay-and he was okay-nothing else mattered.Curtis thought for a moment, then said to Noah up front, "Grab some meds for Delia on the way back."

"Got it, sir," Noah replied.

Honestly, he still thought Delia was overly dramatic most of the time.

But weirdly enough, her little episode ended up keeping them out of serious trouble.

The whole thing put him in a strange mood.

Like, sure-she had no idea what was going on, but it kind of saved their necks.

So, credit where it's due.

Delia leaned against Curtis's chest, soaking in his body warmth.

She shut her eyes, her mind finally starting to settle.

Maybe fate wasn't set in stone after all.

Maybe... just maybe, she had a shot at fixing everything she'd messed up before?

*****

When the car stopped, Delia let go first.

Noah was just setting the wheelchair down outside and was about to help Curtis out when Delia stopped him.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly confused.

She got out first and bent slightly toward the car. "We're home. Let me help you out," she offered, already reaching for his arm.

That simple move made Curtis visibly stiffen for a second.

He looked up at her, hesitation written all over his face.

It didn't take long for Delia to figure out why.

Her throat tightened.

Back then, she'd tossed some of the cruelest words at him because of his leg-

Called him useless, broken... couldn't even stand to be touched by him.

Now, suddenly offering to help must've felt... weird. Unbelievable, even.

No wonder he flinched without thinking.

"I..." Delia's voice caught.

She caught the quick flash of disappointment on his face and instantly softened her tone.

"I just wanted to help you out a bit, you know? You let me lean on you the whole ride back. Think of this as my turn. Fair's fair."

"Babe, let me give it a try, I promise I'll be super careful," she added, giving him wide, hopeful eyes.

Curtis stayed quiet, lips pressed together, unreadable emotions flickering in his dark eyes.

Finally, he gave a tiny nod.

He didn't lean on her, but he didn't push her hand away either.

Delia's heart lifted a bit. She gently steadied his arm, guiding him from the car to the wheelchair.

She was a bit clumsy, sure, but every movement was slow, cautious, and full of care.

Meanwhile, Noah stood by, eyes locked on her, ready to jump in if anything went wrong.

Only when Curtis was safely in the wheelchair did Noah finally relax with an inaudible sigh.

Delia glanced at him, catching the way he stared at her like she might explode at any second.

She gave a light sigh herself.

Well, she'd earned that suspicion.

It was her own fault for acting like a hurricane before. Now, she'd just have to slowly rebuild that trust.

Inside, the house manager Edith Dalton had already heard the car and was waiting at the door.

She stood up straight the second the door opened. "Mr. Stockton, welcome back. You're home early today."

She reached out, intending to take over the wheelchair from Noah-

Only to realize he wasn't the one pushing it.

Her gaze shifted-and froze when she saw Delia by the handles, smiling as she waved.

Mr. and Mrs. Stockton came back together? And she was helping him?

Edith's normally calm face morphed into one of pure disbelief.

She involuntarily looked at Noah, silently asking, "What's happening here?"

Noah just threw up his hands a little, looking more than a bit helpless.

He replied with the kind of look that said, "Don't ask me-I'm clueless too," and gave his head a small shake.

Honestly, who knew what Delia was planning?

Whatever it was, both Noah and Edith secretly raised their guard a notch.

Because let's be real-when someone that volatile suddenly starts playing the perfect wife, something's definitely up.

Chances were, she had some new drama cooking.

Delia caught all of it-every little detail between them.

It stung, but instead of backing down, she just grew more determined to change.

Pushing Curtis's wheelchair into the living room, she forced a gentle smile onto her face.

"Honey, are you hungry? I can make you something to eat."

The moment those words hit the air, Noah and Edith both froze. Even Curtis seemed a bit stunned.

"I thought you weren't feeling well?" he asked softly.

Delia's cheeks flushed. She quickly cleared her throat. "I took the meds in the car. I'm feeling way better now."

Noah had grabbed some medicine earlier, but honestly, she hadn't even waited for it to kick in. She'd been so wrapped up in figuring out how to win Curtis over that she completely forgot she was supposed to still be 'sick.'

Curtis just gave her a small, unreadable smile.

Delia hurried to park his wheelchair near the sofa.

"Alright then, tell me what you're craving. I'll whip it up for you," she said with a playful tone.

Before Curtis could even reply, Noah nearly jumped out of his skin.

Delia? Cooking?

Since they got married, she hadn't lifted a finger in the kitchen. Cooking, to her, was practically a foreign language. She always claimed smoke from the stove would ruin her 'delicate' skin.

And now she wanted to cook? Something was definitely up.

Noah quickly chimed in, "Ma'am, you really should just take it easy. We've got a chef at the villa, no need for you to wear yourself out."

Edith added cautiously, "Exactly, ma'am. Just let me know what you'd like, and I'll have the kitchen staff prepare it right away."

The two of them tried hard to steer her away, while Curtis just stayed quiet, his face unreadable.

But Delia had expected that kind of reaction. She didn't waver, meeting Curtis' eyes directly.

"I've been learning a few recipes on my own. I want to cook something special for you."

Curtis blinked, his gaze lingering on her for several long seconds.

Even though his mind was swarming with doubt, there was something about her words that stirred something in him. A tiny flicker of warmth in a place that had been cold for too long.

"If it's made by you, I'll eat anything," he finally said, voice as calm as ever.

No emotion really showed, but there was this subtle note of indulgence hiding in his words.

"Boss..." Noah looked like he wanted to say more, clearly freaking out. "You seriously think she knows how to cook?"

She'd never done it before-what kind of miracle were they expecting?

But Curtis gently raised a hand to cut him off. "Let her."

Delia's face lit up with a goofy grin. She looked like she'd won the lottery.

"Just wait, you guys!" she beamed, already making a dash toward the kitchen-only to double back after a few steps.

Turning back to Edith, she asked seriously, "Edith, does Curtis have any food restrictions?"

Once again, Noah and Edith were caught off guard.

Did the sun rise from the west today? Did she actually just ask about Curtis' preferences?

Edith hesitated for a second, then answered truthfully.

"Mr. Stockton prefers dishes that are sweet and spicy, but he shouldn't eat too much of them."

Delia made a mental note, nodded, then went straight into the kitchen, tying on an apron and diving in.

She was clearly out of practice-movements awkward, fumbling with utensils like she was defusing a bomb.

But the focus on her face? That wasn't fake.

Edith stood by the kitchen door for a while, quietly stunned.

Honestly? She didn't look half bad in there.

*****

By dinner, Delia proudly carried out a few homemade dishes and set them on the table.

Curtis looked at the plates, obviously seeing the effort she had poured into each one.

A strange, unfamiliar warmth crept into his chest.

He took up his fork, picked up a bite, and really tasted it.

Not bad. Actually... better than expected.

The whole table was quiet.

Curtis set his fork down slowly. Then he looked her straight in the eye.

"When did you learn to cook?"

Delia felt her heart lurch.

She knew her sudden change would definitely raise some eyebrows.

"Well, I married you, didn't I? I can't stay clueless forever. And..."

She paused, her cheeks flushing just the right amount. Her voice softened, almost shy. "I just figured... maybe I could do something for you once in a while."

Curtis stared at her for a beat but didn't question it further.

Edith, watching from the side, let a bit of wariness slide off his expression.

At least today, Mrs. Stockton seemed to be heading in a better direction.

As long as Mr. Stockton was pleased, that was what mattered.

Noah, though, stayed tense, picking at his food without tasting it.

He kept glancing at Delia, more than a little suspicious.

Did she seriously have a change of heart?

Well, if that's true, maybe it's a good thing. At least Mr. Stockton might stop looking so hurt all the time.

Dinner rolled on under an odd but not unpleasant haze.

Curtis ate quietly, but his calm face didn't match the thoughts spinning in his head.

He could feel her excited gaze, like a puppy waiting for praise, tugging at his heart.

He pushed all that aside and kept his tone even.

Taking a napkin to his lips, he said simply, "Tastes good."

Delia lit up like a switch had been flipped.

Her eyes sparkled, and she leaned in, full of energy.

"Really? I'm so glad you liked it!"

She leaned in closer, eager. "Tell me what else you like to eat-I'll learn how to make everything you love!"

Curtis' fingers tightened slightly around his fork.

He didn't answer right away, pausing like he was weighing something big.

Then he looked up, voice lower than before, and listed two dishes-bold flavors with a bit of spice.

He watched her face carefully, anxiety creeping in despite himself.

He'd only mentioned them once before, offhand, and she'd responded with an eye-roll: "You think I'd actually remember that?"

Curtis shut his eyes briefly. He was bracing for disappointment again.

But her reaction caught him completely off guard.

She blinked at him, surprised, then a big grin took over.

"Seriously? You like those kinds of dishes? But..."

Curtis' stomach tensed.

Her tone dipped, softer now. "The chefs here always make everything so bland. I thought you didn't like strong flavors."

As she spoke, her eyes drifted off. She looked like she was remembering something.

In her past life, she hardly ever came home for meals. It was all parties with Isabelle or chasing after Nathan.

She had no clue what Curtis liked to eat, or how his days went.

When she did show up, meals were always made to suit her own taste.

Guilt and regret rushed in hard and fast.

Seeing her eyes dim, Curtis felt a jolt in his chest, like he'd just been hit.

His voice came out before he even thought about it. "You... didn't like the food before?"

That snapped Delia out of her thoughts.

She looked up, right into Curtis' eyes, deep and searching.

This man, after all that, still remembered what she liked-but she'd never once tried to understand him.

The remorse hit her like a wave.

"No." She fought back tears, forcing a shaky smile. "I'm just... really thankful. Thank you... honey."

"You always remembered what I liked, but I never cared enough to ask about you."

Curtis froze, seeing her eyes getting red.

He'd never seen her look so fragile.

Awkward, unsure, he softened his voice, trying to comfort her.

"That's what I should've done... Don't cry."