"Hey, stop daydreaming!" The sharp yell yanked her back to reality.
"It'll burn," he added, his voice tinged with frustration.
She nearly toppled off the chair, her heart racing. With an urgent cry of, "No!" she scrambled to open the oven door. She knew it would only take a few more seconds for everything to be ruined.
Please, don't burn, she silently pleaded.
But another sharp cry rang out, this time not from Ice. It was Fire. In her panic, she'd pulled the hot tray from the oven. Instinctively, she dropped it, lucky that it hadn't completely escaped her grasp.
Realizing her mistake, she cringed, bracing for Ice's anger. How could I forget the oven mitts? Stupid, stupid...
But the situation unfolded very differently than expected.
"How could you be so careless?" Ice rushed to her side, his voice laced not with anger, but with concern. His hands gripped hers as he checked for burns, his fingers carefully tracing every inch of her skin.
Gosh, I hope he doesn't see my face turning red. She turned away, flustered by the unexpected tenderness in his touch. He'd spent the whole day snapping at her, and now, here he was, acting like this? Not fair!
Embarrassed, she tried to pull her hand back, but Ice held it firmly. His gaze softened, though his brow remained furrowed in worry.
"I'm fine," she muttered, her voice barely a whisper. But his unwavering stare made it clear that he wasn't buying it. He wasn't letting go.
Do you really think this is okay? That's what his expression said to her—like an older brother, overprotective and insistent.
Please don't blush, please! She begged herself. Why am I so embarrassed?
"I'm f-fine," she stammered, struggling to maintain her composure as she tried to look anywhere but at him. What is going on with me?
Finally, Ice let go of her hand, his eyes still locked on her. He turned toward his bag and pulled something out, though she couldn't see what it was—she was too busy trying to calm the storm of thoughts in her head.
I'm not in love with him! she scolded herself. It's just a normal reaction to the situation. That's all. Nothing more.
It's not Ice, she reminded herself firmly. It's just the situation. This is exactly the kind of scenario I've always imagined—those romantic scenes that make me blush when I daydream about them.
She'd always been a fan of those moments, the kind of gestures that seemed so sweet in the movies. It's just that… this is happening to me, she thought, trying to convince herself. That's all. It's not Ice making me feel this way. It's the moment itself.
She was lost in thought, her mind drifting as she daydreamed, until reality suddenly hit her. She felt his hands gently applying ointment to her burned fingers. She wanted to speak, but no words came. She just watched him, his focus complete as he carefully spread the burn cream, as if his entire attention depended on it.
He looks so calm now, she thought, the contrast to his earlier frustration striking her.
"Ah!" She flinched, feeling the sting as one part of the burn was exposed more than the others.
Ice pulled her hand back, steadying it with a firm grip. "Bear with it. It's your fault."
"You're so mean!" she protested, though her mind was filled with an argument she couldn't voice. I rushed because I was scared of you. So really, it's your fault... She kept the words to herself, frustration bubbling quietly within.
"Try being more careful. And act more mature," he added, his voice flat as he let go of her hand.
Part of her wanted to argue, but another part was just... relieved. It had been difficult to hide the blush creeping across her face.
He turned his attention to cleaning up the kitchen, a cold air settling between them. "Just sit there. I'll finish up here, and then I'll drive you home. We'll finish decorating the cake tomorrow." His voice was clipped, and she could sense his irritation.
If I hadn't been hurt and I burned that cake, I'd be dead, she silently protested to herself while watching Ice clean up.
It was past 8 p.m. when Ice finally drove her home. The car ride was thick with silence. She was too afraid to say anything that might make him angrier, so Fire kept quiet.
This is so boring, she thought, stealing glances at him from the corner of her eye. She tried to gauge if he was still upset, but his stoic face gave nothing away.
The calmness of the night, paired with the quiet between them, started to lull her into a drowsy haze. I'm so tired. Maybe I'll just take a nap, she thought, leaning her head against the cool window. Before she knew it, she was drifting off to sleep.
The day had drained her—school, work, and all the extra activities had left her exhausted. She hadn't realized just how tired she was until now. And, maybe... too tired to stay awake.
The next time she opened her eyes, the car had stopped. Ice's voice greeted her softly.
"Good morning. Breakfast is ready."