The kitchen buzzed with the rhythm of preparation. Steam hissed from boiling pots, spices crackled on hot pans, and voices overlapped as Daniel's mother and grandmother barked orders to the younger women bustling about. In the far corner, Linda stood at the chopping board, sleeves rolled up, knife moving steadily through a pile of onions.
Her hands were busy, but her mind was not here.
Every time she blinked, she saw David's smirk. Heard his silky voice murmuring about the book fair. "Come with me, Linda. It'll be fun."
And layered over that, Daniel's sharp scolding from the night before: "Where were you? Why weren't you helping for my sister's wedding like everyone else?"
Her chest tightened. What if Daniel found out the truth? What if David…
"Ah—"
The knife slipped. A thin red line opened on her finger, and blood welled up.
Immediately, Daniel's mother swooped in like a hawk.
"Careless girl!" she snapped. "You can't even chop vegetables properly? You're Daniel's wife , the first daughter in law of family .. you should be the most careful one!"
His grandmother tsked loudly, grabbing Linda's wrist to inspect the cut. "Dreaming while holding a knife? What nonsense! Do you want to ruin tonight's dinner as well?"
Heat rose in Linda's cheeks. She bowed her head, muttering, "I-I'm sorry. It won't happen again."
But their voices rose like a storm around her, words stinging sharper than the cut itself.
And then—
"Enough."
The single word sliced through the kitchen noise.
Everyone froze. Linda's eyes darted toward the doorway. Daniel stood there, tall and rigid, his arms crossed over his chest. His gaze was fixed on her hand, and for once, it wasn't filled with his usual cold fire.
"It's just a scratch," he said firmly. "She's not a servant to be scolded over every small thing."
The silence that followed was deafening.
Daniel's mother blinked, utterly taken aback. His grandmother pursed her lips, as though she'd never heard such audacity. The other women exchanged wide-eyed glances, then quickly bit back their smiles.
"Ohhh," one of his cousins cooed from the corner, "since when does Daniel defend anyone?"
Another giggled. "Protecting her already? My, my."
"Careful, Daniel," his grandmother said sharply, but her tone was tinged with amusement, "your heart is showing."
The kitchen burst into muffled laughter.
Daniel's jaw tightened, a muscle ticking. "Tch. Say what you want," he muttered, but he didn't take his eyes off Linda. Instead, he stepped forward, grabbed her injured hand, and tugged her toward the door.
"Come with me."
She gasped, stumbling after him as the women's whispers and laughter followed them out into the hall.
Daniel didn't stop until they were inside their room. The door slammed shut behind them, muting the world outside.
"Sit." His voice was curt, but not cruel. He guided her to the bed with a firmness that brooked no argument.
Linda obeyed, her heart pounding. She watched as he rummaged through a drawer until he found a small first-aid kit. He dragged a chair close and sat, pulling her hand gently into his lap.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. His hands, usually so commanding and cold, were strangely tender as he dabbed at the wound with antiseptic. The sting made her wince.
"Idiot," he muttered under his breath.
Her lips parted. "Excuse me?"
His eyes flicked up to hers, sharp as always, but softer around the edges. "What were you thinking? Daydreaming while holding a knife? You could've done worse than this."
She bit her lip. "I was just… distracted."
"By what?" His tone sharpened again.
She quickly looked away, hiding the flicker of panic in her eyes. "It doesn't matter. I'll be careful from now on."
Daniel studied her for a long moment, as though weighing whether to push further. But then he exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "Hopeless woman," he murmured.
He wrapped the bandage around her finger, his thumb brushing the pad of her hand far longer than necessary. The warmth of his skin sent a shiver up her arm.
Linda's breath caught. Her heart hammered. She dared a glance at him, only to find his face so close, his brow furrowed in concentration. The intensity in his eyes was different this time — not anger, not coldness… something else entirely.
Is he… worried about me?
The thought made her chest ache.
When he tied the bandage, his hand lingered. His thumb traced lightly across her knuckles, absentmindedly, almost tenderly. Linda swallowed hard, not daring to move.
"Thank you," she whispered, her voice trembling.
Daniel leaned back slightly, smirk tugging at his lips, though the softness in his eyes betrayed him. "Don't make me do this again," he said. "Next time, I won't save you from their nagging."
She managed a small smile, her cheeks burning. "Next time, I'll be careful."
He rose, closing the first-aid kit with a snap. But before turning away, he glanced back at her once more. For a heartbeat, something unspoken hung between them — something fragile, dangerous, and thrilling.
And then, as always, Daniel broke it with a scoff.
"Hopeless," he repeated under his breath, though his hand brushed her shoulder as he passed by — a touch so brief she almost wondered if she imagined it.
Linda stared down at her bandaged hand, her lips curving despite herself. Her heart, traitorous as ever, refused to calm.
Daniel didn't stop until they were inside their room. The door slammed shut behind them, muting the world outside.
"Sit." His voice was curt, but not cruel. He guided her to the bed with a firmness that brooked no argument.
Linda obeyed, her heart pounding. She watched as he rummaged through a drawer until he found a small first-aid kit. He dragged a chair close and sat, pulling her hand gently into his lap.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. His hands, usually so commanding and cold, were strangely tender as he dabbed at the wound with antiseptic. The sting made her wince.
"Idiot," he muttered under his breath.
Her lips parted. "Excuse me?"
His eyes flicked up to hers, sharp as always, but softer around the edges. "What were you thinking? Daydreaming while holding a knife? You could've done worse than this."
She bit her lip. "I was just… distracted."
"By what?" His tone sharpened again.
She quickly looked away, hiding the flicker of panic in her eyes. "It doesn't matter. I'll be careful from now on."
Daniel studied her for a long moment, as though weighing whether to push further. But then he exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "Hopeless woman," he murmured.
He wrapped the bandage around her finger, his thumb brushing the pad of her hand far longer than necessary. The warmth of his skin sent a shiver up her arm.
Linda's breath caught. Her heart hammered. She dared a glance at him, only to find his face so close, his brow furrowed in concentration. The intensity in his eyes was different this time — not anger, not coldness… something else entirely.
Is he… worried about me?
The thought made her chest ache.
When he tied the bandage, his hand lingered. His thumb traced lightly across her knuckles, absentmindedly, almost tenderly. Linda swallowed hard, not daring to move.
"Thank you," she whispered, her voice trembling.
Daniel leaned back slightly, smirk tugging at his lips, though the softness in his eyes betrayed him. "Don't make me do this again," he said. "Next time, I won't save you from their nagging."
She managed a small smile, her cheeks burning. "Next time, I'll be careful."
He rose, closing the first-aid kit with a snap. But before turning away, he glanced back at her once more. For a heartbeat, something unspoken hung between them — something fragile, dangerous, and thrilling.
And then, as always, Daniel broke it with a scoff.
"Hopeless," he repeated under his breath, though his hand brushed her shoulder as he passed by — a touch so brief she almost wondered if she imagined it.
Linda stared down at her bandaged hand, her lips curving despite herself. Her heart, traitorous as ever, refused to calm.