In the kitchen, I made sure to stay close to Ezekiel, taking the knife in my hand as I announced, "I can make a salad."
He gave me a playful smile. "Whatever you make, I'll taste it."
I raised my eyebrows, feeling a little more confident. As I started cutting the cucumber, Ezekiel suddenly came up behind me and slipped an apron over my head. I froze for a moment, surprised by the unexpected gesture, my heart skipping a beat as he tied it around my waist. I wasn't used to him being so close, but I wasn't about to complain.
When he stepped back, I caught his eye and smiled, trying to hide the excitement bubbling inside me. We continued cooking, working together as I helped him with ingredients, occasionally bumping into him, making sure the touches remained.
Ezekiel was busy mixing something when I rested my chin on my palm, watching him carefully, enjoying the way his hands moved as he stirred. There was something undeniably attractive about the way he focused.
Suddenly, he turned to me, holding a spoon.
"Taste this—do I need to add more sugar?"
I nodded but didn't take the spoon from him. Instead, I reached for his hand, gently holding his finger, and, without hesitation, I put it in my mouth, sucking the chocolate off in a slow, teasing manner. I wanted to see how he'd react, to push the boundaries just a little further. My heart raced, but I acted like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"It's so good," I said after, licking the chocolate off my lips.
When I looked up at him, I saw the shock on his face. He seemed almost frozen for a second, his expression shifting between surprise and something else. His cheeks flushed as he quickly averted his gaze, clearing his throat awkwardly. "I guess I'll put it in the oven then," he mumbled.
I smiled to myself, satisfied.
"Yes, go ahead. I'm going to change," I said, turning to leave, my heart still racing with the thrill of what had just happened.
I quickly rinsed my face and dabbed some essential oil onto my wrists and neck, inhaling deeply to steady my nerves. Excitement bubbled in my chest as I walked downstairs, eager to join Ezekiel for dinner. When I entered the dining area, I noticed that he had arranged everything so neatly. The thought of having dinner with just the two of us sent a thrill down my spine.
I sat beside him, and he served me the food, his movements calm and focused.
"Thank you," I said with a smile.
I took a bite and my eyes lit up. "Umm… it's so good, Mr. Professor."
Ezekiel chuckled, slicing his steak with precision. "Oh, I'm a professor now, huh?"
I grinned, still chewing. "Can you believe it? You're my professor, and here I am, having dinner with my lecturer."
He raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Unbelievable."
"If someone from my class finds out, the news will spread like wildfire," I teased, leaning in playfully.
Ezekiel raised his eyebrows in amusement. "And what exactly will spread?"
I raised mine back, keeping the playful tone. "It'll be all over—Isabella and Mr. Ezekiel have something going on."
He chuckled, narrowing his eyes at me. "And you'll be the eyesore of every girl in class, huh?"
"Exactly," I said with a mock-serious tone, laughing. "Do you even know how many girls are eager just to catch a glimpse of you?"
Ezekiel sighed, his smile fading into something more thoughtful. "I don't care much about that," he said softly.
"I know," I nodded, sensing a shift in the mood. I focused on my food, taking another bite, but the lighthearted atmosphere was different now.
Suddenly, Ezekiel's voice broke the silence. "Isabella," he began, his tone more serious than before. "What is our relationship now?"
I stopped chewing, my gaze lifting to meet his. His eyes held a question I wasn't sure how to answer.
"Can you… make me your family?" he asked, his voice low, but filled with something I hadn't expected.
I took a deep breath and looked at him intently. "I still don't want you with my mom," I said, my voice steady. Ezekiel raised his eyebrows, a small smile playing on his lips, but I wasn't joking. My expression remained serious.
"Because I know you can't be happy with her," I continued.
Ezekiel's smile faded slightly, sensing the sincerity in my words. I held his gaze. "I know my mom better than anyone else. I know you because of her, but I don't care about her relationship. I care about you. I've grown attached to you, not because of her, but because I like being around you."
I paused, letting my words sink in before continuing. "You've become important to me in just a few days. And…" I hesitated for a second before my voice grew firmer, "I hope you won't see me as your stepdaughter because I'd hate that. I don't want that kind of relationship with you."
My words came out a bit sharper than I'd intended, and I could feel my frustration bubbling up. The mere thought of being seen as his stepdaughter made my skin crawl, and I hated the idea more than anything.
Ezekiel must've sensed the shift in my tone. He quickly tried to calm me down, his voice soft. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."
"It's okay," I replied, taking a breath to steady myself. "But you haven't told me much about your family. Where are they?"
Ezekiel stood up, pushing his chair back, and said, "My mom and dad got divorced when I was seven. So, since then, I often started living alone. Nothing much to say about it." He picked up his plate and headed to the sink.
I sat there for a moment, watching him, lost in thought. Ezekiel is like me, I realized. He has his family, but it's as though he doesn't. I felt an odd connection to him, as though we were more alike than I had initially thought.
After a minute, I picked up my plate and joined him by the sink. He was washing, and I began drying the dishes. The silence between us felt heavy, but it was comfortable.
"Didn't you feel lonely?" I asked, breaking the quiet.
"Of course I did," he replied. "But it slowly became a habit."
I nodded, and he continued, "I started traveling alone."
"Your dad's okay with that?"
He chuckled. "No, he hates it. He wants me to focus on my career, to take over the family business."
I forced a smile, unsure what to say. "Don't you miss your mom?"
Ezekiel smiled, but it was tight, almost forced. "No."
After a pause, he added, "But I do miss sleeping with her. She used to caress my head until I fell asleep."
I smiled at that small, vulnerable memory.
"But your mom's not bad," he teased, chuckling as he continued washing the dishes.
I watched Ezekiel as he focused on washing the dishes. For a moment, I studied his features, taking in the way his brows furrowed slightly in concentration. Without thinking too much, I spoke in a serious tone, "My mom's not home. You can come sleep with me."
He didn't react immediately, so I added, "I don't lock the door."
Ezekiel froze, his hands pausing mid-wash as he slowly turned to look at me, shocked. His eyes searched mine, maybe trying to figure out if I meant what I said. But I didn't break my gaze. I knew exactly what I meant, and I was sure he understood it too. I blinked slowly, letting the weight of my words settle between us. Then, without saying anything else, I turned and walked out of the kitchen.
My heart was pounding, but I kept my pace steady. I knew so well what I had meant.
I made my way to my room, the silence of the house suddenly feeling louder than before. When I reached my door, I kept my word—I didn't lock it. Instead, I pushed it open just enough and lay down on my bed, staring up at the ceiling.
If he came, it would be my victory, a confirmation that something was there between us. If he didn't… well, I'd try again tomorrow. I wasn't in a rush. Winning him over was just a matter of time.
I closed my eyes, letting my thoughts drift, wondering what his next move would be, would he really accept my proposal?