Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 103656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
“That won’t do.” She chops the carrots in perfect squares and stares at me. “You need to eat healthy food, not just anything to stop the hunger.”
“But I don’t know how to cook.”
“Learn to, then. It’s not that hard.”
Easier said than done.
The kitchen has never appealed to me, and it’s not particularly because I was spoiled by my parents or due to the fact that I was a wild tomboy.
Though I do want to learn so I can stop surviving on army food alone.
“Would you…teach me?” I ask in a small voice.
Nadia all but beams. “Why, of course! What do you think I’ve been trying to do all this time?”
I smile back, and she sighs, a nostalgic look covering her eyes. “A long time ago, I also didn’t know how to cook well, but Nicholas was so patient. He even taught me how. See, he’s the oldest in his household, and since he lost his parents when he was young, he had to make sure his younger siblings were fed and taken care of. In his teenage years, he worked a lot of jobs while studying.”
“Wow, that must’ve been hard.”
“It was.” She doesn’t stop chopping, but her gaze becomes brighter and reminiscent. “I watched him all the time. Ever since I was a little girl. He’s ten years older than me, but I knew when I was five that we’d end up together. I bugged him, of course, and he initially had no interest in me, but after I went to college and came back, we became inseparable.”
“That’s beautiful.” It’s probably been decades since they got together, but that shine in her eyes is still blazing strong.
Something tugs at my heart at the thought of what must’ve been an epic love story. I think their type of connection happens once in a lifetime. We only have one chance to seize it before it’s gone forever.
“How did you meet your husband?”
My pulse hikes again, and I shift on my feet as I carefully peel the skin of the potato. “He…saved me.”
“How so?”
“I was surrounded by some guys in a secluded place, and he happened to walk by. He lacks empathy, so he didn’t have to intervene, but he did. Not only did he manage to effectively stop them, but he also punished them for it.”
That incident feels like forever ago, but the events and details are crystal clear in my mind.
A sense of ease falls over me at not having to lie to Nadia. At least, not about this.
She hums knowingly. “He seems like the responsible type.”
“He is.”
“Those are very hard to come by. Appreciate him while you can.” She pauses and her face brightens again. “Oh, here they are.”
Through the kitchen window, I catch a glimpse of Nicholas and Kirill coming through the front door, carrying grocery bags.
Nadia wipes her hand on her apron and goes to welcome her husband. Kirill brings the grocery bags inside the house, but he soon reappears in the front yard, which faces the kitchen window.
The heavy winter coat does nothing to conceal his solid build. Sometimes, he looks no different than a beast with his harsh features and unwelcome aura.
Other times, when he’s wearing the glasses, he looks like a sophisticated gentleman.
At least, from the outside looking in.
He heads to the shed, then reemerges with an axe and several large pieces of wood. Then he proceeds to split them.
Despite the storm ending, it’s still cold and continues to snow. However, Kirill doesn’t seem to care about that since he’s removed his coat and wears only his woolen cardigan.
He continues to chop the wood in sharp, precise movements that tug on my attention.
I can’t look away from him.
Ever since the morning I shamelessly rubbed myself against his erection, it hasn’t been the same between us.
Yes, he holds my hand whenever Nadia brings out her needle of horror, but he doesn’t sleep on the bed anymore.
In fact, I don’t think he sleeps much at all, and if he does, it’s on the chair, where he spends most of the night reading some book Nicholas gave him.
He’s been making it a point to engage in physical contact only when necessary. And for some reason, that’s been making me frustrated for no apparent reason.
I place the knife on the chopping board and rub my fingers against each other. If I want to breathe properly, I have to do something about this situation.
After a moment of contemplation, I pour a cup of tea, put on my coat, and head to the front door. I smile at the distant voices of Nadia and Nicholas coming from their bedroom. She’s nagging him about not wearing enough clothes and how he needs to look out for his health.
By the time I cross the threshold, my smile disappears, and it has less to do with the freezing cold and more to do with the man outside.