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."

Delia felt her chest tighten with regret.

In her past life, she'd been blind-pushed away the man who truly loved her in silence, and got played like a fool by Nathan and that venomous Isabelle.

That mix of guilt and relief brought tears to her eyes.

Curtis's fingers twitched slightly, unsure if he should reach out and wipe her tears away.

She sniffled and rubbed her face messily with the back of her hand.

"Curtis, I was a total jerk before. But from today on, I just wanna live properly with you."

"And you...stop bottling everything up, okay? Don't keep everything to yourself."

"I really love you. I never wanna see you all alone again."

Curtis's heart skipped a beat.

For a moment, reality felt shaky, like he wasn't quite awake.

Was he dreaming? Otherwise, why would Delia say something so honest, so full of love?

Off to the side, Noah and Edith shot each other a look, both stunned beyond words.

Was this really the same Delia who used to treat Curtis like her worst enemy?

Curtis didn't say anything, still staring at her in disbelief, but Delia didn't seem the least discouraged.

She walked over, tears still on her face, and looked up at him. "Babe, say something, will you? I wanna hear your voice, wanna know what you're thinking. You're always so quiet, I can't read your mind..."

Curtis was caught off guard by how close she got, and her words made his ears turn red.

"...Right. I get it." He mumbled, awkwardly looking away.

Noah kept a straight face but once again exchanged a worried glance with Edith.

Delia hadn't done anything wrong yet. That wasn't the issue.

What worried them was the way Curtis looked-like he'd already fallen all over again.

Was he really letting her sweet words melt him just like that?

If this was all an act...he'd end up heartbroken.

Better to keep a closer eye on things, just in case.

*****

Dinner finally wrapped up in a weird, kind-of-flirty vibe.

Curtis had to discuss something with Noah in the study.

Delia, though clearly reluctant, didn't make a fuss.

She watched Curtis leave the dining room with Noah, took a deep breath, and turned to Edith, who'd been quietly standing by.

"Edith, could you arrange to move my stuff back to the master bedroom?"

Delia's tone was steady, but there was no mistaking the firmness beneath it. "I don't think it's healthy for a married couple to live separately for so long."

Edith blinked, clearly taken aback, but she quickly composed herself and offered a respectful nod. "Of course, ma'am. Though-"

She hesitated briefly before continuing, "Mr. Stockton actually instructed us not to touch anything in the master suite. He wanted everything left exactly as it was."

"So all we'll need to do is move your day-to-day items and clothing. Nothing else has to change."

Delia froze. Her breath hitched, and a flush of warmth rushed to her eyes.

He hadn't moved a thing. He'd been waiting for her all along.

Even after everything, even knowing she probably wouldn't come back, he'd still held on?

That wave of bittersweet emotion hit her hard, nearly knocking the wind out of her.

It hurt, realizing how foolish she'd been last time around-but at least now she had a chance to fix it.

This second chance really was a gift from above.

He never left. He just waited-quietly, patiently-for her to turn around.

"...Got it." Her voice cracked a little.

She pulled herself together, forced a smile, and looked at Edith. "Thanks. Please move it all back as soon as you can."

This time, going back to that room wasn't just about where she slept.

It was going home-to the man she loved.

*****

In the study, the mood was heavy.

Noah closed the door firmly, his usual respectful demeanor replaced by seriousness."Mr. Stockton, we've got the intel."

"Talk," Curtis said, wheeling closer to his desk.

"It wasn't easy-the site was cleaned up pretty thoroughly. But tracking the money trail gave us more than a few clues." Noah paused, a flash of disgust crossing his face. "It's Matthew again."

Curtis sat quietly, his fingers tapping lightly on the desk.

The light outlined his silhouette, cold and sharp-edged.

Hearing that name, his eyes barely twitched, and his brows knitted slightly.

A cold glint passed through his dark eyes.

Matthew Stockton-his half-brother from his father's second marriage.

Mediocre at best, sly as a snake, always eyeing Stockton Group like it was his birthright.

Pulling shady moves wasn't new to him.

But this time? The guy actually dared to go lethal.

"Handle it," Curtis said calmly. "Those shell companies under his name? Time they got a wake-up call."

"No need to make this incident obvious. Just keep him too busy cleaning up his own mess."

"Yes, sir," Noah replied, already plotting the plan out in his head.

Matthew had been playing games with Curtis for a while now. They'd gotten pretty practiced at clapping back.

"I'll keep it low-key, make sure he's running around like a headless chicken. He won't have time to stir the pot again for a while."

Honestly, he'd had it with that do-nothing party boy who stabbed Curtis in the back when no one was looking.

Their previous attempts to shut him down weren't strong enough. That always sat wrong with Noah.

Matthew kept crossing lines, and Curtis turned a blind eye more often than not.

Which only made the guy cockier-until now.

This time, they were going to hit him where it hurt.

Once business was handled, silence settled in the study.

Noah glanced at Curtis's worn-out profile and hesitated before speaking.

"Sir, can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead," Curtis said, lifting his head.

Noah drew a breath, then spit it out.

"Why are you so invested in Delia?"

"What do you mean?" Curtis's brows creased.

Sensing his boss's mood shift, Noah corrected himself, but the questioning tone stayed. "You know what she used to be like. I saw it all, and honestly, I couldn't stand it. Now she's acting like a whole different person. It's... off."

"Noah," Curtis cut in, voice suddenly cold. "She's my wife. The woman of this household."

"I expect you to remember that, along with what she's owed in respect."

His tone was sharp, no room for argument.

Noah froze, the rest of his warning stuck in his throat.

He lowered his eyes, muttering, "Understood."

But deep down, he was fuming.

Why did that woman deserve this level of protection from Curtis?

Curtis turned his wheelchair toward the window, the night outside casting a quiet shadow over him.

After a long pause, his voice was calm again.

"I know it might just be an act. She might go back to her old ways eventually."

"But even so, I still can't..."

His words trailed off, ending in a faint, bitter laugh.

Curtis couldn't turn away from the tenderness Delia showed now.

Was it self-inflicted poison, or a lifeline?

He knew how real her hatred had been in the past.

Now all the warmth she gave felt wrong and out of place.

His brain screamed this was a trap, while his heart couldn't help but cling to it.

He was diving in, fully aware he might drown.

Noah looked at Curtis's lonely silhouette, full of conflict.

All he could do was let out a long sigh.

At the end of the day, he just hoped Delia truly cared about Curtis this time.

Meanwhile, in the master bedroom.

Delia had already asked Edith to help move her stuff back in.

She lay sprawled out on the big, soft bed, hugging his usual pillow, breathing in deeply.

The scent of Curtis lingered faintly at the tip of her nose - cool and familiar.

Her head was full of thoughts about him.

It was only then that her whole body finally relaxed.

Only a day had passed since she'd been reborn, yet it felt like forever.

She knew now - all she needed to do was love him.

That was enough.

But the path to revenge was still long.

Even so, now that she had Curtis back within reach, she wouldn't let go again.

"Curtis... such a hard nut to crack," she mumbled with a wry smile.

But deep down, she knew it never took much to win his heart.

Even after all the hurt between them.

All it took was one glance back, and he'd still be there waiting.

She didn't think she had done much, yet Curtis forgave her anyway.

And not just forgave-he was starting to trust her again.

Delia couldn't believe a man this good was actually her husband.

The thought filled her with a quiet joy.

Before she realized it, fatigue began to creep in, and she gradually drifted into a light nap.

She didn't know how much time had passed when a soft sound stirred her.

The door opening quietly.

The slight friction of wheelchair wheels drew nearer.

Curtis had just wrapped up some work and rolled into the bedroom.

Suddenly, he paused at the doorway, frowning.

There was a faint, unfamiliar sweetness in the air.

His eyes darkened as he looked toward the bed.

In the dim light, he could make out the shape of someone lying there.

"Who's there?" His voice was low, with a hint of irritation.

The cold tone startled Delia awake.

She sat up, rubbing her eyes in confusion, her voice still soft from sleep.

"Honey? You're back... it's me."

The moment he realized it was her, the tension in Curtis eased.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, pausing before softening his voice.

As he looked at her dazed face, something flickered in his expression.

This wasn't like her at all. In the past, she wouldn't even agree to share a bed with him, let alone do it on her own.

He flipped the light on and wheeled himself over slowly. "Thought you'd head to the guest room," he said.

"You haven't slept here in a while."

There was a trace of... something in his voice. Maybe sadness. Maybe frustration.

"Well, don't you want me here?" Delia got out of bed, barefoot, stepping in front of him.

She gave him a gentle smile and looked up at his tense profile.

"We're married. We should sleep in the same bed."

"That was the past. Now, I just want to be close to you."

She reached out and gently tugged his sleeve, her tone soft and coaxing.

Curtis looked into her expectant eyes - bright and nervous.

Part of him wanted to keep his guard up, but he couldn't ignore the voice inside him getting louder.

He still wanted her. More than just a physical closeness.

The kind of love he thought he'd already buried.

But her presence was stirring it all up again.

"You might not be used to sleeping here," he said finally.

Then added as an afterthought, "You've never come here on your own before."

Ever since their reluctant marriage, Delia had done everything to stay away from him, even in the same house.That, of course, included the master bedroom that newlyweds were supposed to share.

Curtis hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "If you really want to go back..."

He figured Delia might've just had a sudden change of heart.

"Don't say that. As long as you're with me, anywhere feels like home," Delia cut him off without missing a beat, her voice firm and clear.

"Honey, if I insist on sleeping here, would you actually kick me out?"

Curtis fell silent, his lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

Truthfully, part of him had always hoped for this.

But given how sarcastic Delia had been with him before, he never dared to wish she'd change her mind.

She didn't seem bothered by his silence. Instead, she leaned in eagerly.

"Come on, I've already napped on the bed. Don't act all shy," she teased.

Then she reached out and started helping him from the wheelchair to the bed, a bit clumsy but surprisingly earnest.

Curtis watched her struggling with it-awkward, but so serious-and the words to turn her away just wouldn't come.

Eventually, he let her help him, settling uneasily on the other side of the bed.

He purposely kept some space between them.

But Delia's soft scent lingered in the air, making muscle memory tense up on instinct.

Right as he got comfortable, Delia scooted closer like a little cat, curling around him without warning.

She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek to his back, snuggling in close.

It was an unguarded kind of embrace, warm and natural.

She squinted her eyes, murmuring, "Yup, this... this feels right."

"Your hugs are my melatonin, babe."

Curtis froze, his breath catching for a second.

A rush of heat shot straight to his face, ears practically burning.

He was so nervous, he didn't dare move a muscle.

Delia could feel how stiff he was, which made her want to laugh-but also warmed her heart.

He was adorably flustered. So innocent, this man.

"Delia," he finally sighed, "you... this is making me really nervous."

His awkwardness was written all over his face-impossible to miss. So Curtis just gave up and spoke his mind.

She tightened her arms around him, rubbing her nose gently on his back.

In a lazy, sweet voice right by his ear, she whispered, "Don't be so tense, hubby."

"I'll hug you like this every night 'til you get used to it."

"We're a couple-being close is normal."

"I love you so much, you know?"

Her words, light as air, brushed right over his raw nerves.

The warmth and reliance in her touch were almost too real to believe.

It was a far cry from the sharp, distant version of Delia he remembered.

In her arms, Curtis' body gradually relaxed.

He shut his eyes, listening to her steady breathing behind him.

A rare sense of peace filled him from the inside out.

Maybe this was just a dream after all.

But if it was-he'd rather not wake up, ever.

In the stillness, wrapped in darkness and warmth-

For the first time, Curtis could feel her love so clearly.

"Delia... what are you really after?" he muttered to himself.

How was it possible that the woman who once hurt him had now come back to him, like this?

He turned his head slightly, leaning in to catch the faint scent from her hair.

She didn't seem like the same person-and yet, she was unmistakably her.

His breath trembled a little as he hugged her back, like holding something too precious to let go.

Whatever this was... even if it was fake, he just wanted it to last a bit longer.