Nara returned to the penthouse with two large plastic bags hanging from her hands, filled with ingredients for cooking—vegetables, meat, fruit, and seasonings too.
Happily, she began arranging the groceries in Arka’s refrigerator. She was thrilled to see all the vegetables and meat she had never been able to get in the village. But she was also annoyed by how expensive everything was. If she wanted vegetables, all Nara had to do was pick them from behind the house.
Nara was going to make fried chicken and shrimp paste chili sauce. Just imagining it made her even hungrier.
The smile never left Nara’s face. She even hummed softly as she cooked.
The elevator doors opened again, revealing Arka arriving with a sour look on his face. He immediately covered his nose when he caught the overpowering smell in his home.
“What is that smell?” he asked Nara.
Nara, who had been focused on cooking, turned around and saw Arka covering his nose. “Oh, that’s shrimp paste. Smells good, right?” she said casually.
“What’s good about it? The whole place smells like that weird food!” Arka protested, his expression growing even sourer. He tossed his work bag carelessly onto the sofa and loosened the tie that felt like it was choking him after his exhausting argument with Fahri Wijaya earlier.
Nara shrugged as if she didn’t care. She turned back toward the counter to slice the apple she had just bought for dessert. But her hand accidentally slipped and struck the sharp steel tip of the knife.
“Ouch!” she cried.
At the same time, the sound of a steel object crashing onto the marble floor rang out.
Arka closed his eyes for a moment, then immediately headed toward the source of the sound. When he reached the kitchen, his attention went straight to Nara’s thumb, which was oozing red.
Arka pulled out a tall barstool for Nara to sit on. “Sit down and stay still for a minute!” Arka ordered. His voice wasn’t arrogant and irritating as usual. Instead, it was low and calm.
Arka opened one of the kitchen cabinets and took out a first-aid kit. He removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves to his elbows. Then he went to the sink and washed his hands thoroughly before taking Nara’s injured finger.
Nara grimaced against the sting in her hand and focused on Arka. He examined her wound with sharp, concentrated eyes, exactly like a professional.
“The cut is fairly deep, but luckily it didn’t hit any major blood vessels. This is going to sting a little when I clean it,” Arka said quietly. He took some antiseptic and began wiping the blood around Nara’s wound.
Nara could only watch as Arka tended to her injured thumb. There wasn’t a hint of hesitation in any of his movements. The way he held the bandage, applied the ointment, and wrapped Nara’s wound was precise and incredibly careful.
“You’re... really good at this,” Nara said, breaking the silence between them.
Arka’s body tensed at her words. His hand stopped for a moment. But then his attention returned to wrapping Nara’s wound with the bandage.
“It’s nothing important,” Arka replied coldly, trying to rebuild the wall between them that had briefly crumbled. He stood and put the remaining first-aid supplies back into the kit, his movements stiff and once again as rigid as before.
“Next time, if you don’t know how to use the equipment here, don’t use it! You’re such a nuisance,” he said, holding back his irritation before finally heading up the stairs to the second floor of the house.
Nara stared at the bandage around her finger. She almost felt as if she had gone to a clinic. Arka had looked incredibly skilled and practiced at wrapping her wound, like someone who had done it countless times before.
Now Nara was beginning to wonder what kind of person Arkana Wijaya really was.