anwhile, she was stuck in the bathtub, totally lost in her thoughts. The water was still running from the tap; she had completely forgotten to turn it off. Her mind was off in another world, and soon enough, tears started streaming down her cheeks. She couldn’t help but sob softly to herself, "When am I going to get out of this ss? When?" She kept wondering, "I’ve lost everything. Who do I have now? There’s no one around to protect or rely on. What am I even doing here with this stranger? Because of , he could also be in danger. I can’t just leave, I’m stuck here. He’s been protecting as he knows . He’s provided shelter, food, clothes, and everything I need to feel secure. But instead of feeling grateful, I’m just putting him at risk. He doesn’t have a clue who I really am, and still, he’s there for , refusing to throw out."
She shut her eyes, feeling embarrassed as her cheeks and ears grew warm. mories from the previous night ca flooding back, sitting alone in the kitchen, crying as two intruders barged in and shattered her sense of safety. The whole thing at the cabin haunted her, and she didn’t want to think about it. She wondered if Zayden would ask her about it. "What am I going to say? How do I explain? He probably knows sothing went down. I was out cold, but even then, I’m sure he could tell sothing was off."
After what felt like forever, she finally got out of the tub and washed herself off.
About ten minutes later, she was done with her bath, feeling refreshed and her skin tingling from the warm water. Rubbing her hair with a small towel she found, she carefully detangled it with her fingers. Feeling a bit better, she made her way to the kitchen, nerves fluttering in her stomach about what would happen next.
When she walked in, she saw Zayden pouring coffee into the mug, and the rich sll filled the air. As soon as he noticed her, he gave her a warm smile and said, "Sit down; the fried rice is ready, and I’m just finishing up your coffee. The soup will be ready shortly, too."
She smiled and plopped down in the chair. He set the steaming mug of coffee on the table, the delicious aroma filling the air, and then grabbed a big pan from the counter. He plopped it down and served her so fluffy rice on her plate, saying, "Eat!"
At first, she hesitated, feeling a bit awkward because he was the one cooking and serving her while she just sat there. Sensing her reluctance, he nudged her again, "What are you thinking? Just dig in!"
Finally, she picked up the spoon and started tasting the fried rice. It was incredibly tasty, and the addition of deer at gave it a unique taste that made it even better. She gave him a thumbs-up, and he grinned back, but his mind was racing with questions.
He wanted to ask her what went down the night before and how she ended up passed out on the floor, blood all over the place, an injury on the head, a knife in her hands, and her clothes wrinkled. It bugged him, but then he rembered what Leo had said: "I need to head to Manhattan and start digging into this. But rember, Z, keep a close watch on Zeynep. Please don’t ask her anything until I co. If she’s a target for William or if she is connected to William, we could easily lose her if she senses trouble and decides to run." With that in mind, he figured it was best to stay quiet for now, even though his head was spinning with questions.
As he started eating, the sll of the soup bubbling away filled the kitchen, which helped distract him for a mont. When he finished his plate, he noticed Zeynep had already finished hers, too. Getting up with a quiet scrape of his chair on the tiled floor, he took his plate and hers. He headed to the sink, the sound of the plates clinking echoing in the calm cabin as he tossed them in the sink.
Glancing back at the stove, he checked the pot of soup. It was just right, steam rising lazily. He carefully lifted the pot off the burner and started ladling the steaming soup into two bowls, sprinkling so fresh herbs on top for good asure. He figured she’d appreciate the warmth and comfort of the al, especially on a chilly afternoon.
With the bowls balanced on a tray, he brought them to the table, placing one in front of her and keeping the other for himself. As he sat down beside her, he hoped that sharing this simple al would lighten the mood, at least for a bit.
She took a spoonful of the soup and thought, "Wow, this is really good." He’s an aweso chef, she realized, and considered asking him what he does for work. But then she decided against it, worried he might ask her the sa question, and she wasn’t ready for that. While she was tasting the soup, he kept an eye on her, noticing how her expressions changed with each bite. He held back a smile, knowing she was probably thinking about whether to share anything about her night, but it seed like she’d keep it to herself.
After finishing her soup, she pushed her chair back and got up. She grabbed her empty bowl from the table and set it in the sink. He was sitting on the chair, watching her every move while he enjoyed his own soup. She rolled up her sleeves and started washing the plates and bowls, the sound of running water filling the kitchen. After that, she walked over to the counter where the pots were stacked, lifted both of them, and brought them to the sink to wash them as well.
anwhile, he wrapped up his soup and set his bowl down with a soft clink. He stood up, holding the empty bowl in one hand and a steaming coffee mug in the other, taking a sip as he walked over to her. When he reached the sink, he placed his bowl in the sink. Leaning against the counter, he crossed one arm and held the mug in the other, watching her wash the pots.
She felt a little nervous; her hands trembled a little when she noticed him standing there, and for a mont, she thought he might speak up. But he stayed quiet, just sipping his coffee. She finished washing all the dishes, plates, pots, and bowls. Just as she was about to walk away, he called her, "Zeynep."
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