The window rolled down, revealing Ethan's profile.
He tilted his head toward her, signaling her to get in.
People moved in and out of the building entrance, and more than a few eyes drifted over — some curious, some just glancing, a few carrying that faint barely-there disdain that was worse for being subtle.
She could feel all of it. The spotlight feeling. She hated it.
But the hesitation only lasted a second. She took a breath, walked over, pulled the passenger door open, and got in.
"Seatbelt." Ethan's voice came the moment she pulled the door shut.
Her heart jumped and her hand shot out for the seatbelt immediately.
She was absolutely not going through what happened last time — him leaning across to help her fasten it, her face going red, her heart doing something embarrassing.
She moved fast. Click. Buckled.
She let out a quiet breath.
Ethan glanced over. The faintest smile at the corner of his mouth. He started the car and pulled into traffic.
The car came to a stop in the underground parking structure of a large grocery store a few minutes later.
Ethan took Nora straight to the fresh food section.
What followed was a small earthquake for her.
Ethan pushed the cart with a clear goal and zero hesitation — fresh black bone chicken, live shrimp, expensive sea fish, carefully packaged bird's nest, premium goji and astragalus... The cart filled up fast. The numbers on those price tags made Nora quietly terrified.
She didn't even breathe too hard, afraid of somehow making things worse.
At checkout, the receipt that rolled out was long. The total hit $800 and she felt her stomach drop.
She helped carry several heavy bags, fingers aching from the handles, walking with the specific care of someone transporting something irreplaceable.
Bags loaded into the trunk. She got back into the passenger seat, palms still slightly damp.
The car started again.
Ethan drove out of the parking structure and asked casually: "Nora. You can cook, right?"
She was still quietly mourning the eight hundred dollars. The question caught her off guard and she answered on instinct: "I... I can make some basic things..."
True. She had been taking care of herself since she was small. Cooking was a necessity. But the basics — potatoes, eggs and tomato, simple things like that.
Most of what had gone into that cart just now she had never cooked in her life. Half of it she had barely seen before.
She felt uncertain. Quietly afraid of ruining something expensive.
Though — and this was a fact she had no way of knowing yet — she had a real gift for cooking. Once she learned something she picked it up fast.
But that was a story for later.
Ethan glanced over at her, easy smile on his face: "Good. Come cook for me for a while. Eating dining hall food every day is getting old — I need something that tastes like actual food."
He paused, then added more naturally: "I have to eat anyway. You cook, we eat together. Think of it as me covering your meals."
Nora felt something warm move through her chest, almost said yes on the spot.
She wanted to cook for him. Really wanted to. It felt like the one concrete thing she could do — something small and real to give back even a little. And just cooking, that was within the range of what she could understand and accept.
But then — eating together.
The bird's nest. The expensive fish. The shrimp.
We're supposed to eat that together?
The panic hit fast.
"No, no!" Her hands went up, voice coming out urgent: "I really don't need — I'm fine — really!"
Ethan raised an eyebrow, seeming genuinely puzzled: "You don't need to eat?" He thought for a moment, then his tone went businesslike: "So how much should I pay you per day?"
"Huh?" Nora stared at him, completely thrown, eyes wide like a startled deer. Pay her? She had never once thought about that.
"Right. My original idea was — you cook, I cover the food, fair trade, nobody owes anybody anything. Now that you won't eat with me I lose that side of the deal. Can't take something for nothing. So I'll pay you market rate." He shrugged, the picture of reasonableness.
Nora's thoughts were completely scrambled. Taking advantage. Market rate. Fair trade. These words existed in a different world from the one she lived in.
Her face went red and she stumbled over her words: "No — I didn't — that's not what I meant — I don't want to be paid, I really don't—"
"Oh?" Ethan drew it out, nodding slowly like something had just clicked. "I see."
"Huh?" She had no idea what he thought he understood.
Ethan picked up his phone and started opening a search for housekeeping services.
Right then Robert's call came through.
Ethan's eyes lit up. Perfect timing. He answered immediately.
"Yeah, is this the housekeeping agency?" He spoke loudly and clearly into the phone.
Robert on the other end went silent for a full two seconds. "...what housekeeping agency? It's Robert. Did you seriously not save my number? What is wrong with you?"
Ethan ignored this completely and kept going in full negotiation mode: "Lunch and dinner only, and the monthly rate is that high? Any experienced options that are cheaper?"
Robert: "I AM NOT A HOUSEKEEPER. I'm Robert. Your actual friend. Are you sick?"
Ethan kept going like he hadn't heard: "That's the lowest you've got? Alright... it's a little steep but..."
He dragged it out deliberately.
Then —
A cold, slightly shaky finger poked him carefully but firmly on the shoulder.
He turned.
Nora was sitting there, face completely red, eyes full of urgency and something close to desperation. She was shaking her head at him hard, lips moving in a silent plea — don't. Don't hire anyone.
Ethan looked at her face and quietly wanted to laugh. He kept his expression completely straight.
He pointed at the phone and said in a tone of mild regret: "Actually — let's hold off for now. I'll think about it and call back if I need to."
He ended the call.
Just before it disconnected, he could faintly hear Robert starting with: "What the hell, Ethan—"
Gone.
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