"Zeya, come here and say hello to Mr. Weather!" Scopuso's voice was loud, breaking Zeya's reverie as she remained rooted to the steps, still trying to comprehend the fact that Delson, the man who had almost bought her that night, was now sitting in her living room as her own sister's future husband.
Zeya gasped, swallowing hard. She nodded quickly and recomposed herself. With graceful steps but a troubled heart, she walked into the living room, politely greeting Mr. Weather and his wife, Tanus, while hiding the turmoil that was welling up in her chest.
"Good evening, Mr. Weather, Aunt Tanus," he said as politely as possible, bowing slightly politely.
Zeya passed Delson without even a glance, as if he never existed. As if there was no history, no shame, and no fear that had gripped her just a few nights ago.
Tanus turned to Yana, his eyes wide with amazement.
"Oh my God... is this your eldest daughter?" he asked in near disbelief.
Yana smiled proudly and nodded. "Yes, this is Zeya, my eldest daughter."
Zeya sat gracefully on the left side of the sofa, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, arranging her sitting position neatly.
"Your eldest daughter is so beautiful." Tanus stared at Zeya as if he were looking at an expensive painting. "What are you busy with now, my child?"
Zeya smiled faintly. "Still in college, Auntie. Final semester."
"Oh really?" Tanus became even more curious. "Which university?"
"Howard University, Auntie."
Hearing that, Tanus turned quickly and patted Delson's thigh, who was sitting next to him, instantly snapping him out of his reverie. Delson had been staring at Zeya in silence, captivated by her appearance tonight—so stunning, so mature, so graceful... and so, so sexy. But Zeya never once returned his gaze.
"Oh! Delson teaches there too!" Tanus exclaimed happily. "He just moved to Howard this morning. Did you get his class?"
Zeya bowed slightly, embarrassed. "Yes, Aunt."
Larin, sitting not far from Delson, stared in disbelief. His heart felt like it was sinking.
Delson is a lecturer? And... teaching in her sister's class? she muttered bitterly to herself. Suddenly, the night that was supposed to be hers felt bland. She wanted to be angry. She wanted to scream. But she could only grit her teeth in silence.
Yana noticed the change in Larin's expression, immediately grabbed her daughter's hand and changed the subject.
"What about our son and daughter's matchmaking, Aunt Tanus?" he asked with a smile, hoping the conversation would return to Larin's focus.
Tanus smiled patiently and patted Delson's arm.
"Ah, we just want them to get to know each other first. It's not a forced matchmaking, just an approach. If it's a good fit, then we can continue. If not, that's okay."
Delson lifted one corner of his lips, playing with his tongue subtly, loving how his mother always gave him loose ends. But before he could say anything, the weather interrupted him firmly.
"No. We want them to get married."
Her voice was steady. Her eyes fixed on Scopuso. "We've agreed to match them, haven't we?"
Scopuso chuckled. "Sure. That was the original plan, wasn't it?"
Delson's expression immediately changed. His face returned to cold, his jaw tightening. But out of the corner of his eye, his gaze never left Zeya.
He noticed how Zeya had refused to look at him, even earlier. Their gazes hadn't met since the first moment she descended the stairs. It was as if Zeya had built an invisible wall, separating herself from Delson. And that only further provoked Delson.
Zeya wasn't just beautiful tonight. He is amazing.
Sexy. Elegant. Mature. Perfect.
Delson gripped his thighs gently behind the table, trying to restrain himself. The figure before him... made his blood boil. But it also made him feel punished.
Why won't you look at me, Zeya? he asked himself, but didn't dare to voice it.
Amidst the heated, somewhat forced conversation in the living room, Delson suddenly spoke. His voice was calm yet loud enough to immediately draw everyone's attention.
"Do I have to marry Mr. Scopuso's daughter?" he asked without hesitation, his tone flat but with a striking boldness.
Weather nodded firmly, his face serious. "That was our plan."
Scopuso chuckled, patting his own knee confidently. "Of course. Larin has been waiting for this day for a long time."
Delson stared ahead, his eyes calm but blazing. He then leaned back and spoke again, more firmly than before.
"Okay. I'll get married."
Every face in the room tensed. Larin looked up with a wide smile, certain his name would soon be called.
But his smile quickly faded as Delson continued, very bluntly:
"But change the bride. I want to marry Zeya."
The entire room fell silent. It was as if time had frozen.
Larin glared, his eyes wide with anger and disbelief. His breath hitched, and his face instantly paled.
Tanus, on the other hand, smiled casually, as if he had guessed his son's reaction.
Yana gasped, her face stiffening. Scopuso also froze in unexpected shock.
Zeya, who had been sitting quietly before, now stared at Delson in shock. Her heart seemed to skip a beat. But she quickly lowered her head, refusing to make eye contact. She knew that if she stared at Delson for too long, her defenses could crumble at any moment.
Yana quickly intervened, trying to calm the situation.
"Sorry, Son Delson... Zeya is already engaged to someone."
Delson's eyes narrowed sharply. There was a glint of anger that he couldn't hide.
"With who?" he asked quickly, insistently, as if he wouldn't accept rejection.
Tanus patted his son's thigh gently as a warning to restrain himself.
"Delson," he whispered quietly but firmly.
Meanwhile, Weather shot his son a sharp glare, clearly displeased with Delson's impulsive behavior that could embarrass them in front of the extended family.
To break the tension, Weather changed the subject, looking at Larin who was still sitting with an uncertain expression.
"Larin, if we start preparing for the wedding the day after tomorrow, are you ready?"
Larin, who was still shaken, immediately nodded quickly, although his voice was a little shaky.
"Yes... ready, Uncle."
A forced smile appeared on her lips, though deep down, she still harbored a burning anger over Delson's earlier remark. But what mattered to her right now was status. Marriage.
Delson just stared at Larin out of the corner of his eye, coldly. He didn't approve of anything that happened that night. Little did either of them know, deep down, he only wanted to marry one name: Zeya.
Meanwhile, Zeya herself still sat silently, her fingers gripping the hem of her dress. Her thoughts were still in disarray. Delson's words echoed in her mind. "I want to marry Zeya..."
He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. This was too crazy. Too fast. And too dangerous.
Why did he say that in front of everyone? Why did he say my name? Zeya's mind was in turmoil, but she knew... after this, her life would never be the same.
-----
As soon as the main door closed to mark the departure of the Weather family, the atmosphere of the house instantly turned warm. The silence that had previously enveloped the middle room was broken by Larin's sharp voice that glided without restraint:
"Did you deliberately dress up like this to attract my future husband's attention?!"
Larin's voice echoed, full of accusation and anger. His sharp gaze pierced Zeya from head to toe, as if trying to expose her sister's hidden intentions.
Zeya slowly stood up from the sofa. Her eyes narrowed, but remained calm. She stared at her sister, who was burning with emotion, then opened her mouth in a flat yet cold voice:
"I always look like this."
Zeya stepped closer a little, then added, "I don't have that kind of ability... to take what isn't mine."
A sharp jab—so subtle yet so on target. A powerful blow, recalling their past, when Larin casually stole the man Zeya loved without a shred of guilt.
Larin, hearing the sarcasm, clenched his fists tightly. His jaw clenched. His face flushed with a mix of anger and embarrassment. He didn't reply, but his body immediately moved quickly, climbing the stairs with heavy steps.
Yana hurriedly chased her daughter upstairs, calling her name, trying to quell the flames of anger that were starting to burn.
But before Zeya could leave, Scopuso approached her. His face was grim and filled with anger. His voice boomed, sounding like a thunderclap:
"You're really too much, Zeya! Can't you protect your sister's heart? Why are you dressed like this? Is this on purpose? Do you want to embarrass us?!"
Zeya turned slowly toward her father. A small smile graced her lips—a lopsided, bitter smile. Not one of joy, but of disgust.
Funny. He always gets blamed, even for things he didn't plan.
"It's up to you, Dad. You can think whatever you want."
Her voice was low, but clear and steady. "Zeya is tired."
Without waiting for an answer, she turned and walked upstairs, calmly climbing the stairs despite her boiling heart. She refused to argue any longer. Because it was pointless—this family had never seen her as one of their own.
And that night, behind all the luxury of the mansion, the rift in the family sounded the loudest in Zeya's heart.