The Not So Regular Cinderella Love Story のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 21 - チャプター 30

Lucas POV For the next utterly unexpected twist in my already confusing life, my father and my wife… actually got along. I know. I’m shocked too. Breakfast—which earlier felt like a police interrogation with me as the prime suspect—suddenly shifted. The mood softened, the air felt lighter, and somehow the food tasted ten times better. It was like someone sprinkled peace, harmony, and maybe a little magic over the scrambled eggs. And honestly? It was strangely beautiful watching two people who couldn’t be more different share stories like old friends. I couldn’t help but be impressed with Dalia. The way she handled everything—with grace, confidence, and zero panic—was unreal. My respect for her shot through the roof. She’s really something. Even if I was slightly bullied earlier… by both of them. “So you said your father was a farmer? That means you had farmland?” my dad asked, but this time his tone was curious—not interrogating.

Dalia’s POV “Um… Dalia, are you sure this is where you want to eat?” Lucas asked, his voice half-amused, half-exasperated, as we squeezed through the street jam-packed with food stalls and crowds of people jostling for the same bites I had my eyes on. “Yes! Obviously. That’s why we’re here, right?” I said, gesturing at the endless rows of skewers, barbecue, and sizzling street food. The aroma of grilled meat alone had my mouth watering, my stomach already planning a full-on feast. “But… there are so many people. Where are we even going to sit?” Lucas asked, sounding genuinely concerned as we shuffled past a man balancing a tray of fishballs and a kid holding a bright, floating balloon. “We’ll figure that out later. First, food! Let’s grab some, and we’ll think about the seating after,” I said, already stepping forward and leaving him behind. “Dalia! Wait! Damn it—oops, sorry, excuse me!” I heard him muttering as he tried to navigate the crowd, apologizing to anyone remotel

Dalia’s POV “I told you the gown fits perfectly on you, iha,” Aling Feli said, her grin wide as she stepped back to admire her handiwork. I froze, hands fidgeting at my sides. I wanted to look in the mirror, but my stomach felt like it had joined a rollercoaster ride. This was… daring. Way more daring than anything I’d ever worn. Not scandalous, mind you, but showing just a little more skin than I was used to. The neckline teased my cleavage ever so slightly, and the slit… well, it reached mid-thigh. I might as well have been waving a little “look at me” flag. “Come on, iha, look at yourself in the mirror,” Aling Feli encouraged, gently guiding me to the full-length mirror. I hesitated, taking tiny steps, feeling like a penguin learning to waddle gracefully. Slowly, I tilted my head up and stared. My reflection froze me in place. Was that me? Honestly, it felt like someone had swapped my body with a magazine model’s overnight. Elegant, confident… scary. And here I was in

Dalia POV The car ride felt like being trapped in a coffin—except I was alive, painfully aware, and sitting beside a man who suddenly forgot how to breathe like a normal human. Neither of us spoke. Neither of us moved. If a single pin dropped, I swear it would’ve echoed. I kept my eyes glued to the window, pretending the passing trees were fascinating. Spoiler: they weren’t. But they were a good distraction from the silence slowly suffocating me. Then Lucas, apparently allergic to awkward silence, cleared his throat and said, “So… ready for the party?” In the most cool-guy, nothing-bothers-me tone imaginable. I forced a smile that probably looked like I was in the middle of a dental procedure. “Yeah… sure.” He smirked. I hate that he can read me that easily. When we reached the party, I instantly regretted being born. People swarmed around us like we were on display. And then—because life hates me—his father announced our presence in front of everyone during

Dalia’s POV My fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, feeling the warmth of him underneath. His hands slid to my waist—firm, certain, as if he had already memorized the shape of me in his head long before this moment became real. The kiss wasn’t soft. It wasn’t tentative. It was the kind of kiss that pulls the air out of your lungs and replaces it with heat. I didn’t even realize I had closed my eyes until he gently broke the kiss, but only by a breath. Just far enough that I could feel his forehead almost touching mine, his breathing uneven, matching mine. “Say it again,” he whispered. The lights from the city flickered against his face, making his eyes look darker, hungrier. I could feel the intensity rolling off of him, the restrained chaos he’d been carrying all night. “Dalia.” His voice was low, almost rough. “Say it again.” My heart drummed so loudly I was certain he could feel it through my chest. “I like you,” I breathed. “I really like you.” His