Chapter Three :"Two Worlds, One Table"
The engagement ring shimmered against Nuria's hand as she stirred sugar into her tea. She sat at Asa's dining table, legs crossed under the white linen cloth, glancing out the tall windows of his penthouse kitchen.
Below, the city hummed like an open secret, she had been shocked the first time Asa brought her here, she knew she was in for a surprise, but it was far from that, it was Fabulous and beautiful.
Since then she had come over about once or twice a week in order to either finish a work Asa had told her to come over and complete due to the urgent need of it or come over there to hang out with him, like watch movies or play video games.
Even though they haven't been in any kind of intimate activities apart from kissing since she told Asa she wanted to wait till they got married, he has always respected and always tried not to cross that boundary.
It had been three weeks since Asa proposed.
They hadn't announced it. Not yet.
Today would be the first step: meeting the families. First hers, then his.
Nuria wasn't sure which terrified her more.
Mirelle's Apartment – Late Afternoon
The hallway smelled of lavender and lemon cleaner. Asa straightened his collar for the fifth time before knocking. He wore a pale-blue button-up and black slacks, the top button undone in deliberate effort to appear 'normal.' Nuria stood beside him, fiddling with her bracelet.
"You nervous?" he asked quietly.
She gave him a look. "I am the one who is suppose to ask you that, but anyway you're about to meet the woman who'd still ground me at twenty-two. Nervous doesn't cover it."
He smiled. "Let her try. I brought pie."
The door swung open.
Mirelle stood in the frame, wiping her hands on a towel. She wore a simple floral blouse, silver strands gleaming through her tight braid. She raised an eyebrow at Asa.
"You must be Asa."
"Yes, ma'am."
"You're taller than I imagined."
"Ma'am, I assure you I've been this height since I was sixteen."
A pause — and then Mirelle chuckled. "Come in."
The apartment was small, warm, and filled with the comforting smell of slow-cooked stew and ginger. Asa looked around politely. Family photos covered the walls: Nuria at different ages, Mirelle in her nurse's uniform, holidays with distant cousins.
They sat around the table. Mirelle poured tea while Asa placed the bakery box gently on the counter.
"I didn't bake it," he said. "But I paid someone who knows how."
Mirelle smirked. "Points for honesty."
"Yes", Asa said like a goofy teenager.
Nuria held her breath, but it went better than she expected. Asa asked Mirelle about her work. He praised her cooking with unforced charm. He laughed — not too loud, not too showy. When he touched Nuria's hand, it was subtle. Gentle.
"So," Mirelle said at last, leaning back. "You love my daughter."
Asa's eyes flicked to Nuria, softening. "Yes, ma'am. With every version of myself."
Mirelle studied him for a long beat. Then she stood up and opened the drawer.
"I have a taser," she said, reaching inside.
"Mama!" Nuria yelped.
Mirelle pulled out a folded napkin. "But I'm using it on this pie. It's unfairly good."
Laughter broke the tension like sunlight through clouds.
Asa stayed until dusk. When he kissed Mirelle's cheek goodbye, she actually smiled.
"He's not what I expected," she said after the door closed.
"Better or worse?" Nuria asked.
Mirelle glanced toward the empty plate on the table. "Sneaky. In a good way."
---
The Leclair Estate – Evening
Nuria had never seen anything like it.
The gate alone looked like it belonged to a foreign embassy. Inside, the grounds were manicured to near perfection, lanterns glowing along gravel paths. Asa's car curved around the driveway until they stopped before a house that looked more like a villa.
He turned to her.
"They're going to love you," he said.
"Excuse my words, but do they even... do love?" she asked.
Asa chuckled but didn't answer. That laugh again — warm, but never quite reaching his eyes.
The door opened before they could knock.
A man in his fifties, lean and silver-haired, stood with a glass of something amber in one hand. His presence was smooth, composed. Like Asa, but more... rehearsed.
"Asa," he said, voice precise. "And this must be the Nuria we've heard so little about."
"Dad, this is Nuria Cael. Nuria, this is my father, Dorian Leclair."
"Mr. Leclair," Nuria said politely, offering her hand.
He took it. His grip was firm, not aggressive, but enough to register.
"I see what my son sees," he said, then stepped aside. "Come in."
The inside of the house was even more stunning. Modern, sleek. Not cold, but curated. Asa's mother, Vivienne Leclair, descended the staircase in a pale grey dress and pearls that looked old as time.
She kissed Asa's cheek, then turned to Nuria.
"My son's been smiling too much," she said. "That means trouble."
"I'll try to be less charming," Nuria offered.
Vivienne blinked, then gave the smallest nod of approval.
Dinner was served in the smaller dining room — which still felt like a museum. A crystal chandelier hung above. Silverware was real silver. Nuria had never felt so aware of her own breath.
But the conversation... flowed.
Dorian asked questions about her studies. Vivienne asked about Mirelle. Asa sat beside Nuria, holding her hand under the table like an anchor.
At one point, Nuria cracked a joke about college cafeteria food.
"I swear they made soup out of despair."
Vivienne actually laughed. A short, amused sound like crystal breaking.
Asa leaned in and whispered, "You're magic."
---
After dessert, Dorian poured brandy and took Asa aside, leaving Nuria with Vivienne.
"You've softened him," Vivienne said.
Nuria wasn't sure what to say.
"Don't mistake that for weakness," Vivienne added. "Asa... he's always had more underneath than he showed. You should know that."
"I do," Nuria said quietly.
Vivienne's gaze held her a second longer. Then she nodded.
"I hope you stay."
Asa returned, his fingers brushing Nuria's wrist. "Let's go."
---
Outside, in the car, Nuria finally exhaled.
"Well?" he asked, hands on the wheel.
"I think your mom might secretly run the mafia," she said.
"She does. She just lets Dad pretend he's in charge."
Nuria laughed. Asa glanced over at her. The streetlights painted fleeting stripes across his face. For a moment, the edges of his smile faltered.
"You really loved me at first sight?" she asked.
"I did."
"Even though I looked like a librarian lost on a public school tour?"
Asa's laugh was real this time. "Especially then."
She leaned her head on his shoulder.
As they drove through the darkened city, Nuria didn't see the way Asa's fingers tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles whitening for just a moment — then letting go.
Letting go.