Chapter 22: Pretending to Be Decent

After Maggie and Nathael went upstairs, she looked for a pair of men's slippers but found none. Joseph, despite his wealthy upbringing, hadn't visited Maggie since she moved out of the Camerons' house. This wasn't due to any animosity; her apartment was simply too small—a two-bedroom, one-living-room space, probably smaller than a single bedroom in the Camerons' mansion. She worried Nathael might look down on it.

Subconsciously, Maggie glanced at his expression. Nathael's face remained calm, betraying no disdain. Instead, he said, "I'm fine barefoot."

"I'm sorry, I forgot there are no men's slippers. I'll buy a pair tomorrow," she apologized, placing her bag on the entrance cabinet and changing her shoes.

Nathael listened, paused, and looked up at her.

"What would you like to eat?" Maggie asked gently. She went to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator without looking back.

She'd bought groceries a few days ago. Though the selection wasn't vast, there was plenty of food. Yet, gazing at the full refrigerator, she felt a pang of disorientation. She'd been with Nathael for years, yet she didn't know his preferences.

Lost in thought, Nathael's voice broke through her reverie. "Anything is fine."

Maggie nodded. Checking the time, she decided on stir-fried vegetables, green bamboo shoots, braised ribs, and seafood curry. She quickly gathered the ingredients.

After entering her apartment, Nathael looked around. He was familiar with the layout—it was his house. However, it was Maggie's private space, a place he'd never been permitted to enter.

The apartment was decorated in a retro American style, featuring high-quality, dark tones. It was clearly well-designed. Large floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked a canal; the city lights reflected on the water, and a cruise ship glided by, its sounds occasionally reaching them.

Nathael stood at the window, aware he'd lost control again. From the joy of finding her handbag to inexplicably entering her home, he always seemed to lose control around her. His famed self-control felt laughably inadequate.

Maggie, busy preparing dinner, noticed Nathael's prolonged silence. She poured a glass of water and went to the living room, finding him by the window.

"I really like this river," he said, his voice calm and quiet, a stark contrast to his usual aloofness.

Nathael turned; Maggie's eyes reflected the canal lights, more beautiful than any stars. Her pupils shone brightly, her cool demeanor somehow alluring, like the most captivating poison. "When I wanted to buy a house, I couldn't afford it. The landlord was leaving the country, and the rent was low, so I moved in here," Maggie explained gently, handing him the water.

In truth, she'd earned considerable money over the years. But her youthful recklessness and pride led her, at eighteen, to leave the Camerons without taking a penny. She worked part-time and studied, using most of her earnings to repay their kindness. How foolish she'd been.

"You will someday," Nathael said deeply, taking the water.

The warm glass felt comforting, a soothing warmth spreading through him.

"Thank you," Maggie smiled. She realized that, in both her past and present lives, she'd rarely had a meaningful conversation with Nathael. This felt…pleasant.

She looked at him. He'd removed his jacket; his tie hung loosely. He seemed relaxed and captivating, a stark contrast to his usual impassivity. "What's on your mind?" he asked, noticing her gaze.

She smiled. "I suddenly thought of a phrase."

"Hmm?"

"Pretending to be decent."

His expression registered surprise.

Before he could respond, Maggie stuck out her tongue, spun around, and fled to the kitchen. It was a joke, but she had to admit Nathael's handsomeness was infuriating. No wonder she'd been "blind" in her past life—divine retribution for wasting such a handsome man!

Nathael withdrew his gaze, rolled up his sleeves, and offered to help.

Passing the living room, he paused at a photo on the coffee table. It showed a younger, innocent Maggie and Joseph, both in school uniforms—he in a white shirt and trousers, she in a white shirt and plaid skirt. Nathael stared, his expression somber.

He slowly clenched his fist. Jealousy roared within him. He couldn't change the past, a past where she likely didn't even know him.

He picked up the photo, his gaze fixated on Maggie. The young girl was both stubborn and intelligent, her chestnut hair flowing softly. She smiled, her eyes pure and cold, with a touch of girlish shyness. He ignored Joseph.

Maggie's phone rang. She quickly washed her hands and saw it was Joseph. Rolling her eyes, she hung up, considering blocking him. But, remembering the Camerons' upcoming plans and Joseph's likely attempts to "influence" her, she hesitated. He was impatient and couldn't tolerate being ignored; it was best to let him be.

Joseph called repeatedly from downstairs, receiving no answer. His frustration mounted. Seeing the lights on, he went upstairs.

Finally, the insistent calls ceased. A sigh of relief escaped Maggie. Then, the doorbell rang.

Joseph's voice boomed from outside, "Maggie, open the door! Maggie, I know you're home! Open the door! Let's talk. Don't be angry!"

Maggie rushed from the kitchen, meeting Nathael's dark gaze. He stood by the coffee table, holding the photo of her and Joseph. His eyes were unreadable. Maggie was speechless.

She was in deep trouble.