That night, the air in the mansion felt different. As soon as Zeya opened the door, she was immediately greeted by an unusual atmosphere. The crystal chandelier on the living room ceiling shone brighter than usual.
The maids were busy going back and forth, carrying trays, arranging glasses, arranging flowers, and arranging small dishes on the long table.
Their hurried footsteps mingled with anxious whispers and hisses. The mansion looked as if it were preparing to welcome a distinguished guest.
Zeya stood in the doorway, furrowing her brows. What's going on? Who would be coming tonight? she thought, confused.
Slowly he stepped into the living room, and from the direction of the stairs, Larin's figure appeared—graceful and striking in a sparkling, sexy dress, as if her body was wrapped in luxury and arrogance at the same time.
The dress clung to her body tightly, and a faint smile stretched across her lips, as if she knew the whole world was watching her. Behind him, appeared Scopuso and Yana, their father and mother, came down with him with serious faces.
"You just got back? Where have you been?" Scopuso's voice broke the silence, his tone harsh and sharp. It wasn't a sincere question, but a stinging accusation.
Zeya sighed softly, holding back the surge of emotions that began to rise in her chest. She wanted to go straight up to her room and get away from all this. But just as she reached the first step, Scopuso's hand grabbed her arm roughly, making her flinch in pain.
"After this, your sister's future husband's family will be here. Get ready quickly, and don't embarrass our family!" he ordered, his tone unyielding.
Zeya slapped her father's hand away, the pain in her arm making her breath quicken. Her eyes blazed with the anger she had been suppressing.
"Larin's the one getting married, why does Papa care about me? I have the night shift. I can't come," Zeya refused coldly, trying to stay calm even though her heart was pounding.
But before he could take another step, Yana grabbed his arm, this time with a gentle but no less restrictive grip.
"What's so hard about obeying us, Zeya? Don't embarrass your father. Your sister's future husband is a respected man. It would be very embarrassing if they had a bad impression of our family."
Zeya stared at her mother. Her eyes were blank. She slowly let go of her mother's hand, her voice soft but sharp, full of wounds she'd held in for too long.
"Have you ever thought that I existed all this time?"
Silence. The room suddenly felt tense. But only for a moment, because Scopuso immediately shot him an angry glare. His face flushed red.
"Don't talk about unimportant things! This isn't the time to listen to your nonsense! Hurry up and clean yourself up and come down to greet your sister's future husband's family!" he shouted loudly, full of pressure.
Zeya bit her lip, holding back tears in front of them. Those words weren't new—she'd had enough of her parents' yelling, neglect, and pressure. But tonight, the hurt felt even deeper.
Without answering a word, Zeya turned around and walked upstairs. His shoulders trembled a little. He knew, if he spoke again-he would cry. And he was too tired to cry in front of people who never really cared about him.
Despite all the fakery of tonight's party, Zeya knew one thing for certain: she had to leave this place. Hurry.
Minutes after the final preparations were completed, the tinkling of the bell at the main door echoed throughout the mansion. The maids stood at attention in unison, and shortly afterward, the large door swung open to welcome the long-awaited arrival of the family. The atmosphere suddenly turned warm yet tense.
Mr. Scopuso stood tall to greet the charismatic middle-aged man who stepped in—Mr. Weather, his longtime friend and future in-law of his dreams. The two smiled broadly at each other and embraced warmly, as if their relationship had become more than a mere formality.
"Welcome, my friend," greeted Scopuso enthusiastically.
"Thank you for the welcome," Weather replied with a warm nod.
With great respect, Scopuso invited the family into the living room, where various light dishes were neatly laid out on the marble table.
The crystal light from the chandelier reflected off the crystal glasses and porcelain plates, adding to the elegant and luxurious feel of the evening.
Larin, standing at the bottom of the stairs, greeted them with a shy smile. Her eyes quickly glanced at the man now standing not far from her father. He was tall, with broad shoulders, a strong jaw, and piercing blue eyes that seemed to pierce anyone who looked at him. Truly handsome.
So sexy. Her heart warmed, her eyes sparkled.
She doesn't regret this arranged marriage. Even from the start, when her father asked if she was single and an acquaintance wanted to introduce her son, Larin was excited. She asked to see a photo of the man, and upon seeing him... she fell in love. Now, the real person before her far exceeded her expectations.
"Oh my... is this Larin?" muttered Tanus, the mother of the groom-to-be, when she saw the beautiful girl standing gracefully.
"Yes, that's my second daughter," Yana replied with a proud smile.
Tanus nodded, then looked around, his eyes sweeping the vast space. "Then... where is your eldest daughter?"
Yana glanced at the stairs and smiled sweetly. "Getting ready. After this, he'll be coming down."
Tanus nodded again, this time without comment.
There was a moment of silence before Yana broke it with a warm voice, her eyes fixed on the blue-eyed young man sitting not far from her. "Delson... what are you busy with now?"
Delson glanced up briefly, his expression blank. "Just taking care of Papa's company," he replied briefly, before his eyes returned to his phone screen.
A polite response, but one that clearly shows a lack of interest in the conversation.
Yana simply nodded slowly in response, though she felt a little disappointed. Meanwhile, Larin sat not far from Delson, staring at him silently, blushing furiously. It didn't matter that Delson hadn't even glanced at her; to her, he was perfect.
But the atmosphere changed drastically when the sound of footsteps was heard coming down the stairs.
All eyes turned to the source of the voice. A soft, pale blue dress swept up the steps, and Zeya appeared, fully prepared. Her hair was simply down, her face bare, but she still exuded a calm and elegant charm.
Delson, who had initially been indifferent, suddenly gasped. His eyes widened. His breath hitched.
Wow... Zeya?!
Her body stiffened. She seemed to lose her balance for a moment, as if she had been hit by a sudden, massive wave. Her face contorted. Her expression was torn between shock, nervousness, and... some inexplicable fear.
Zeya was also stuck. His steps stopped at the last step. His eyes are round. Nope. This is not possible. Delson? Delson Larin's future husband? he muttered in his heart, hardly believing what he was seeing with his own eyes.
Zeya's chest began to pound violently. The room seemed to freeze. All sound vanished, only their gazes locked sharply amidst the hustle and bustle of this evening of introductions. And in that silence, everything changed.