"Ugh!"
Khayra woke from her sleep, wincing as a heavy pain throbbed in her head.
"Ah… I have to work," she muttered, forcing herself to sit up.
She glanced around the unfamiliar room. "Where am I?"
She tried to recall what happened yesterday, until fragmented memories began to replay in her mind.
"So, I'm at Mr. Kaivan's house," she murmured, rising from the bed.
She realized she was still wearing last night's clothes—Kaivan hadn't touched her at all.
Khayra headed to the bathroom to freshen up. She felt sticky, disgusted by the lingering sensation of Andi's touch.
She let the cold water pour over her body. She didn't care how much she shivered; she only wished the cold could freeze away the pain in her heart.
Ratna's cruel words echoed again in her head. How could they be so heartless toward her—a complete orphan? Even if she was only a stepchild, wasn't she still part of their family? Or… was she only meant to be used?
After standing under the icy water for quite some time, Khayra finally stepped out, now dressed in her work clothes. Her hair was still damp, as she had only towel-dried it.
She stopped in her tracks the moment she stepped out of the room. The first thing she saw was a broad back in casual home clothes, busy cooking in the kitchen. The house was spacious and open—no dividing walls. From her room, there was only a living area, then straight into the kitchen, separated only by a minibar counter.
Khayra walked toward Kaivan.
"Um… good morning, Sir," she greeted, making him turn around. Khayra was briefly captivated by his tousled hair—so different from his usual neat, gelled style at the office. A black apron hung over his strong frame.
"You're awake?" Kaivan's question snapped her out of her daze.
"Uh, yes. I'll head to the office first," Khayra replied.
"Sit. There's still time. It's only six o'clock," Kaivan said.
She took a seat while he finished cooking, then placed a plate of fried rice with an omelet and sausage in front of her.
"Finish it," he instructed, setting down a steaming white mug of tea.
Then, Kaivan walked away, leaving her there.
Khayra cupped the mug in both hands, letting the warmth seep into her palms. She took a small sip, feeling the heat travel down her throat and into her stomach.
"Eh?" She jumped slightly at the sudden sound of a hairdryer behind her.
"Stay still. How could you leave your hair wet?" Kaivan said, drying her hair for her.
Khayra could only sit in awkward silence, letting him do it.
"You shouldn't go to the office. Rest for today," Kaivan told her.
"I want to work—" Her words halted when his large hand touched her forehead and cheek.
"Your body's cold, but your forehead is warm. You should stay home. I'll give you the day off," Kaivan said firmly.
Khayra didn't argue. His care left her with no room to protest.
"All done. Comb it yourself. I'm going to shower," Kaivan said, placing the comb on the table before leaving the room.
She combed her hair neatly, then, realizing how hungry she was—she hadn't eaten since yesterday—she began eating the fried rice that looked so appetizing.
Fifteen minutes later, Kaivan emerged from his room and walked toward her.
"I'm heading to work. I hope you stay here and rest," he said, pulling a first aid kit from the minibar drawer. "This is for your fever and headache. Take it after you finish eating. If you feel worse, call me immediately."
"Why are you doing all this?" Khayra asked, looking at him.
"What do you mean?"
"Why are you treating me so well… and cooking for me?" she asked.
"Because I have humanity. I can't just leave someone sick—especially my employee. And one more thing… I really enjoy cooking," Kaivan replied.
"If I keep entertaining your questions, I'll be late. Finish your breakfast and rest."
With that, Kaivan left, carrying his jacket and phone. He always looked elegant and polished in work attire.
Later, after waking from another nap, Khayra left her room and went to the kitchen. Opening the fridge, she saw it was stocked full—but only with raw ingredients.
"Wow, his fridge is really full of cooking ingredients," she said to herself, impressed but not surprised given how neat and organized the house was.
The doorbell rang. Khayra went downstairs to answer it.
"Miss, here's the food Mr. Kaivan ordered," said the security guard from the main gate.
"Oh, thank you, Sir."
"You're welcome, Miss," the guard—Anton—replied before leaving.
She brought the food inside, just as a message popped up on her phone.
I don't want to keep someone sick in my house. So finish the food I ordered and take your medicine again. Make sure your fever is gone by tonight.
The words sounded sarcastic, but somehow, Khayra felt touched by his concern.
Turning around, she headed back upstairs—but paused to take in the open, expansive first floor. There was a sofa and coffee table for guests, a collection of sports motorbikes displayed inside, and from where she stood, she could see the vast backyard with a swimming pool and basketball court.
"I didn't know he liked basketball," she murmured.
"Does he live here all alone?" she wondered aloud as she climbed the stairs.
Feeling hungry again, she opened the takeout food at the minibar and began eating while scrolling through her phone.
A new message appeared—from an unknown number.
Where are you, Kay? It's me, Yuda. After you blocked my number, did you think I couldn't reach you? Kay, where are you now? I heard Aunt Ratna kicked you out?
Another message followed:
Don't block my number again. I know you're hurt because of Ziya. But did you really have to get revenge by seducing Uncle Andi?
The words instantly killed Khayra's appetite.
***