Zara's stomach rumbled again, reminding her that she was still hungry. She had already spent a good amount of time unpacking, and the relaxing bath hadn't fully satisfied her hunger. She decided to check the kitchen and see if she could whip up something to eat.
The problem? Zara was far from what you'd call a chef. In fact, the only thing she knew how to cook were instant noodles, but sadly, there were none in the kitchen. With a sigh, she decided to use her "imagination" and attempt something more ambitious. She pulled out her phone, found a YouTube tutorial on how to make spaghetti and meatballs—close enough to instant noodles in her book—and set to work.
As she chopped vegetables with a knife, she found herself distracted by the video, attempting to follow along as best as she could. But in her distracted state, the knife slipped, and she accidentally sliced her hand. The sharp sting of pain hit her instantly, and she hissed as she saw the blood oozing from the wound. She quickly pulled her hand away and tried to stifle the discomfort.
Xavier, who had been lounging on the sofa with his phone, glanced over at the sound. He didn't even look up from his screen. He didn't really know what Zara was doing—he only saw her back as she faced the kitchen counter. As long as she didn't burn the house down, he didn't care much.
Zara winced again, this time from the pain, and hurried to the sink. She turned on the faucet, running cold water over her hand to rinse off the blood. The sight of it made her feel a bit lightheaded, but she quickly snapped out of it. With her hand still stinging, she wrapped it in a dish towel and walked back to her room to look for a first-aid kit.
Her room was tidy, but she wasn't exactly a fan of unnecessary clutter, so she had to dig around a bit before finding what she needed. She had always been independent and used to caring for herself. It wasn't the first time she'd had to patch herself up. Sitting down on her bed, she managed to clean the wound, apply ointment, and wrap it with a bandage—using only one hand, of course. She couldn't help but shake her head at herself, mentally scolding her for being careless.
After a moment of gathering herself, Zara sighed and returned to the kitchen, determined to continue with the meal despite the setback. She was fully aware that the outcome would likely be a disaster, but at least she was giving it a shot.
She muttered to herself as she stirred the sauce, recalling how her mom used to encourage her to learn how to cook, always telling her that it was an essential skill. Zara had never really taken her advice seriously, but now, standing in the kitchen with a bandaged hand and an impending culinary catastrophe, she found herself regretting it.
Her mother had been right. Zara should have learned how to cook.
"Guess this is what I get," she muttered under her breath as she turned to Xavier, who was still glued to his phone, barely noticing her presence.