Setting the phone down gently on the table beside me, I took a moment to stand up and stretch my limbs a little after sitting for a while. As I mulled over my next steps, I made my way back to my closet, where I took my time selecting a stylish cross-body fanny pack in gleaming metallic silver. Alongside it, I also picked out a similar one that was adorned with jewels, which my husband had thoughtfully commissioned just for me.
With my phone securely placed inside one compartment and my purse nestled beside it, I made my way down the stairs, ready to embrace the day ahead.
Placing my hand against my mouth, I released a yawn. Walking to the kitchen, I found my husband and his father wearing an apron; if this was an anime, I would have had a nosebleed from the visual impact alone.
Ehm.
Oh, this feels like a wonderful dream that has finally become a vivid reality. Oh dear great creator, I can truly say this moment makes me feel incredibly blessed. As I fully entered the kitchen, I began to silently lend my hands to sorting the various dishes—plates, bowls, spoons, and even chopsticks, each having their own special place. For the next ten minutes, we worked together in comfortable silence, our movements synchronized as we cooperated to create an inviting dining experience until every last piece of food was artfully arranged on the table. My husband, ever the gentleman, gently pulled out my chair, and I gracefully settled into my seat, flanked on either side by the two other men who were equally involved in this delightful gathering.
"Let us begin," the father-in-law said in a serious tone, bringing a bowl closer and spooning out some steaming hot soup. He lifted the bowl to his lips, savoring the rich aroma, before taking his first sip. I observed him intently for a few moments, captivated by the way he swallowed, noticing the subtle movements of his throat as his Adam's apple bobbed gracefully. It struck me that this older version of my husband reflected a future that would be equally striking; a testament to the fact that even at this age, he exuded a charm and handsomeness that would undoubtedly prevail. I imagined the years passing, yet his allure remaining intact, a clear indication that time could not diminish his good looks.
Subconsciously, I rubbed my legs together, trying to calm the treacherous area between my legs.
"Try the soup first." My dog husband held a small bowl filled with soup, effectively distracting me with the wonderful aroma. Taking it, I lifted my spoon and began to take a few sips slowly until it was finished before placing the small bowl down.
So good!
As I gazed at the plate before me, filled with perfectly cooked rice, and the array of three delectable meat dishes, a vibrant selection of vegetables, and an assortment of rich sauces, I reached for the nearest dish with eagerness. With a small movement, I gently nudged my husband seated beside me, signaling him to move the meat closer within my reach so that I could select a few pieces to enjoy. The atmosphere of the meal was predominantly quiet, a serene ambience that allowed me to savor each bite. I found myself happily lost in the flavors as my family members engaged in soft-spoken conversation around me. Their voices were so harmonious and similar in tone that, at times, it felt almost impossible to distinguish between them.
"The business will be passed to you; you should return to the main house," my father-in-law's voice suddenly rang out, cutting through the quiet atmosphere. I felt a strong urge to pause my eating and remind the two of them that I was still present at the table, but I chose to ignore that impulse and continued with my meal instead. This is something I had missed in my last life and should pay heed to. "My stepmother is there," my dog husband replied in a low and measured tone, as he carefully passed me a spoonful of rice along with a few pieces of assorted vegetables that looked fresh and inviting. "She has been moved to the small villa a long time ago; in fact, it was around the time when I married—" My father-in-law attempted to interject with a response, but my husband, perhaps sensing the tension, turned away from me and spoke up, effectively cutting him off with his words. "I am fully aware of that situation. I help you keep this secret by referring to her as mother. Just make sure that girl stays away from my wife."
I almost spat out the meat in my mouth. I am not so unlucky, right?
I have to judge her today? She is in the competition.
Should they be aware I know this?
What should I do?
Pretend to be deaf and dumb?
Ayye, that won't work!
What the hell is this drama before me?! Ahh!
I was inwardly panicking but my dog husband rubbed my leg as if in assurance. I continued to eat, pretending to play a 'deafian'.
The father-in-law resumed his conversation after a brief pause, the air thick with anticipation. "Speaking of which, I had invested a considerable amount…" His voice trailed off, and I found myself making a concerted effort to block out most of their ongoing conversation. Instead, I tried to focus on my breathing, taking slow, deep breaths to help steady my racing heart. "Wife, are you feeling alright?" My husband leaned in even closer, his concern etched deeply on his face, his eyes searching mine for any sign of distress. Dog man I have become so good at hiding my stress I can become best actress. I simply nodded in response, all the while battling the swirling thoughts in my mind, which seemed to multiply with each passing second.
"Have you taken the time to prepare the gifts for the old lady?" My father-in-law suddenly posed the question, his tone shifting to a more serious note that caught my attention. It was as if the atmosphere had changed, and I could feel the weight of his inquiry pressing down on me. "Um," I replied softly, still while trying to calm myself down and gather my thoughts. The food that this husband of mine—and his father, of course—had prepared was genuinely delicious, a fact that helped me to ignore their words.
Ah, these men are so good at it!
There is no need to list to what I should not. It's not my business, okay?