"If you want to refuse, you can say it directly to Mrs. Felton," Dave replied again, his tone still unfriendly in my ears.  
Steve and I both looked at Dave when he spoke.  
"Dave," Steve admonished him.  
"What? You don't want her to stay at your family’s house either, do you?" Dave mocked.  
I tensed up when I heard that. My hands clenched together, trying to divert the sudden tightness in my chest.  
"Dave!" Steve raised his voice.  
Steve then turned to look at me, "Listen, Helen, I don’t mind if you stay at our house. As long as that’s Mom’s wish, I won’t mind. Okay?"  
I returned Steve’s gaze but didn’t respond to his words. I still couldn’t shake off the discomfort, even though Steve had said that.  
Steve continued, "So just forget what Dave said earlier. He’s always like this. That’s why no woman ever dares to get close to him."  
I blinked when I heard Steve’s last sentence.  
"Hey!" Dave protested, clearly offended.  
Did Steve just tease someone? Especially mocking his cousin, who was very close to him, in front of someone like me, who didn’t matter? Ah, I forgot, I used to be his fiancée.  
It seemed like Steve wanted to ease the discomfort caused by Dave’s words.  
Suddenly, my phone rang on my lap. I saw the caller's name on the screen: Mrs. Felton. Steve’s mom was calling.  
I automatically looked at Steve, and I could see both of the men staring at the source of the interruption to our conversation.  
"Mrs. Felton," I said, then answered the call.  
Everything I did was under the watchful eyes of Steve and Dave.  
"Hello, Helen."  
"Hello, Mom," my tongue felt stiff when I addressed Steve’s mom like that in front of her son.  
"Come over to my house tomorrow, okay?"  
"Ah," I paused for a moment to look at Steve, remembering the request we had just discussed. "Alright."  
If I wanted to refuse, I could probably do that tomorrow by speaking directly with Mrs. Felton.  
"Don’t forget to bring your clothes," she added.  
I fell silent, as Mrs. Felton seemed to be making sure I would stay at her house.  
While looking at Steve, I hesitantly replied, "Okay, Mom."  
Steve looked curious, and I felt even more uncertain and scared of my response. Before I could see how Dave would react, Steve gave a small smile. I returned a nervous smile.  
I couldn’t refuse after Mrs. Felton asked me to bring clothes to her house. I could already sense how Mrs. Felton might feel sad if I rejected her, especially since the sadness from the failed engagement of her son had not completely gone away.  
Maybe this was what Steve’s mom wanted—to ease her sorrow. And in the end, I decided to agree to her wish.  
"Mom will be waiting for you tomorrow," she said.  
"Yes, Mom."  
After the call ended, I gathered my thoughts and said to the two men in front of me, "I will visit Mrs. Felton tomorrow."  
Both of them seemed surprised as if they understood the meaning of my words.  
Dave didn’t say anything, while Steve said, "That’s better," with a warm smile on his face.  
With just that one sentence from Steve, I felt a sense of relief that night. I forgot all of Dave’s unpleasant words and remembered Steve’s smile all through the night.  
*****  
I stood beside the car's trunk, staring at the building in front of me, which was mostly white. This was the Felton family’s residence, where Steve’s mother lived with servants and other workers who served the family.  
I remembered my arrival here yesterday when I had asked to cancel the engagement.  
"Let me carry that," a voice startled me.  
Steve took the suitcase from my hand. I wasn’t paying attention and let Steve carry my suitcase, not having the chance to stop him.  
I was still frozen, staring at his back as he walked ahead toward the front door of the building.  
"Don’t get carried away." The voice beside me startled me again.  
"What?" I didn’t understand why Dave always said something that annoyed me.  
Dave took a bag from the trunk and placed it on his right shoulder before closing the trunk.  
"Steve is always nice to everyone, don’t expect too much," Dave added, then walked away without waiting for my reply.  
I frowned as I watched his back.  
But then, my frown turned into surprise as I noticed the bag that Dave was carrying.  
How could I forget that there was one more bag besides the suitcase I had?  
And Dave was going to carry it, even though it was mine.  
It seemed like I should thank both of these men.  
"Helen, dear," Mrs. Felton called out my name, hugging me tightly as I walked in.  
"Mom," I murmured, returning her hug.  
Mrs. Felton seemed happy, and I felt like I had made the right decision. Seeing someone else happy because of me made me happy as well.  
After talking about a few things in the living room, Steve’s mother led me to a room.  
"This is your room. I’ve prepared it since yesterday."  
I couldn’t help but feel touched by Mrs. Felton’s kindness.  
"Thank you, Mom," I said, smiling with warmth in my heart.  
Mrs. Felton didn’t stop at just one room. She took me on a tour of her house, introducing me to almost all the workers who served the Felton family.  
It seemed like Mrs. Felton was introducing me to the house while also introducing me to everyone who lived there.  
"The last room," Mrs. Felton said as she opened the door to a room.  
I was stunned when the door opened to reveal a large, white-walled room. Something caught my attention. My eyes locked on an object in the center of the room.  
My mouth opened, "What’s that?"  
I looked at Mrs. Felton curiously, and she smiled back.  
"A piano?" I asked.  
I didn’t understand why there was a piano in this room. But it made me think of my mother.  
Mrs. Felton guided me inside, saying, "This is my piano."  
"Really? You can play the piano? I mean, Mom, you can play the piano?" I asked, amazed.  
But Mrs. Felton shook her head.  
"I can’t play the piano," she said, leaving me truly confused.  
Mrs. Felton continued, "Did you know, I used to be a ballet dancer?"  
I was surprised, "What?"  
She laughed at my expression.  
"I used to dance to the music of the piano played by my husband. Then, after my husband passed away, your mother often played it for me."  
I had no idea about this. I could see Mrs. Felton smiling warmly as she touched the surface of the piano.  
"I hoped you could play this piano for me, but your mother said you can’t."  
I scratched my cheek, feeling embarrassed. "I’m tone-deaf."  
Mrs. Felton chuckled. I also wondered why. My mother was a famous pianist, but her daughter was tone-deaf. And I ended up living in the world of painting. We were both artists, but our artistic talents were very different.  
"You like to paint, right?" she asked.  
I nodded.  
"You can use this room as your studio."  
I was stunned. I knew this room was very meaningful to Mrs. Felton. From her story, this was the room where she channeled her passion for dancing. This place was probably one of the places that held sweet memories of her late husband.  
And now, this studio was being offered to me?