Third person POV:
Zak re-entered the dining room, with a small first-aid kit in his hand.
"Let me see," he said softly yet firmly - there was no room for argument.
Slowly, she held out her wrist. He grabbed her wrist gently, inspecting the cut. Luckily, it was not a deep cut. He sank to one knee in front of her, the hem of his tailored trousers brushing the black carpet. He opened the box, pulling out an antiseptic and cotton pad.
"It's just a small cut. He did not mean to hurt me," Alya said. He did not respond. Instead, soaked the cotton with antiseptic, applying it on her wrist.
Immediately, she flinched at the sting.
"Sorry," he murmured, blowing air on the wound and continuing to address the wound.
He was too close. Again. His jet black hair looked so soft and Alya had to suppress the urge to touch it. She could smell his expensive cologne, it smelt nice. Really nice. She wanted to bury her face in his neck. Yet, again she repressed the urge.
"You did not deserve this. I should have raised him better. I'm sorry, " he said quietly. He felt ashamed at his son's behaviour and partly responsible.
"It's okay. It was an accident," she whispered reassuringly.
His jaw tightened at her words. He applied the bandage carefully, his finger brushing her soft skin.
"You're my wife. It's my responsibility to take care of you and make sure you're not hurt," he said quietly.
Her breath caught. She did not know what to say. She felt her cheeks warm and her heart was racing rapidly.
He was finished taking care of the wound.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"You don't need to thank me. Go rest. I'll talk to Aiden after returning from work," he informed her. She nodded in response and he kissed her forehead before leaving.
After he left, she made her way upstairs. She looked around the bedrooms, wondering which one belonged to Aiden.
"Do you need help, madam?" asked an elderly maid calmly, with a warm smile.
"Yes please. Where is Aiden's room?" she asked curiously. The elderly maid was surprised at the strange request, yet nonetheless, directed Alya to Aiden's room.
Outside the door to Aiden's room, Alya knocked once. There was no answer. She knocked again.
A few seconds passed after the second knock before Alya heard light footsteps towards the door. Aiden opened the door. He looked confused to find Alya in front of his bedroom door, expecting his father or the maid. He glanced at the bandage on Alya's hand. Immediately, his stomach twisted in knots and his tongue felt dry and bitter. He tried to muster up some words to say, but all he came up with was an incomprehensible, "urmm."
He gulped, unable to find the words he wanted to say. He expected her to be angry. He expected her to throw things, hit or scold him. Yet, she did nothing.
"Can I come into your room?" she asked with a warm smile.
It was the same smile she wore after his father told her to sit down. It looked genuine and so warm, yet he was not sure if it was real.
He nodded.
"Can I sit on your bed?" she said softly.
He nodded again.
"That's a really pretty car you've got there. It's a ferrari, right?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity and excitement.
"Yeah. I have a bugatti over there." He told her, excitedly.
"Wow, that's really cool! What type of car is that?" she asked pointing at a toy car.
"Mercedes," he responded, his voice full of excitement.
"I'm sorry I hurt you. I did not mean to hurt you, " he told her, looking at the floor. He was too ashamed and guilty to look her in the eyes.
"It's okay. Accidents happen," she said softly. "But… I really want to be friends."
His eyes widened at the word ' friends'. He was still suspicious of her.
Finally, he mumbled, "Okay. But if you're lying, I won't forgive you."
"Okay, deal," she said excitedly, with a big smile, full of warmth.