Forbiddenly Bound To You
Chapter 72: Insecurity to Perfection

Chapter 72: Insecurity to Perfection

"You’re unbelievable," Mira muttered, her cheeks warm, before grabbing the cloth and heading to the bathroom. She decided to unwind with a hot bath. The warm water soothed her tired muscles and helped her relax after a long day. After some time, she stepped out, drying her body with a soft towel. Once done, she dried her hair, though the evening air was cool outside from the bathroom small window at the side.

She had already taken her bath earlier than usual, knowing it would be some time before night fell.

Slipping into a large shirt that stopped just above her knees, she couldn’t help but wonder just how tall Zamian really was. His towering figure always left her feeling a bit small. Without giving too much thought to Zamian’s earlier words, she put on her lingerie, hoping it would distract her from the chaos of her thoughts. As she stepped out of the bathroom, she slipped into the cute flip-flops by the door, the soft padding making little noise on the tiled floor.

Her eyes widened when she entered the kitchen. Was Zamian... cooking? That was impossible. She almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of the thought. But as she walked closer, her surprise only deepened. Of course—what was she thinking? The kitchen was a complete disaster. Tomatoes and various ingredients were scattered everywhere, the countertop littered with remnants of his attempts at cooking.

"What was he even doing?" Mira thought, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. He was just wasting food, and that was something she hated, especially coming from a home where such things were not tolerated. Her mind raced with disbelief. Zamian cooking? It felt surreal. Even the way he wore the apron showed just how much of a novice he was in the kitchen. The fabric was awkwardly tied, hanging loosely around his broad frame.

"Stop," Mira said,clearly surprised, as she grabbed another apron and tied it around her own waist, determined to regain control of the situation.

Zamian finally turned around, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead, his hair sticking to his skin. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing his muscular arms, a sight that made Mira gulp involuntarily. This was a rare glimpse of him, and she quickly shifted her gaze, trying to focus on anything but him.

"You know what? Just sit. I’ll handle the rest," she said, trying to sound authoritative.

At that point, Zamian had no idea how difficult cooking really was.

"I want to help," he insisted, his tone earnest. Mira glanced at the mess he had already made, sighing deeply.

"Okay, fine. You can assist by making the fruit salad," she relented, wanting to keep him occupied while she took charge of the kitchen.

As Zamian moved to grab the fruit, she added,"Wait," Mira walked behind him and tied the apron properly around his waist. It was then that she realized just how tall he really was, standing close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him.

"Done," she finally said, stepping back to admire her handiwork. "But first, let’s clean up this mess."

She grabbed the kitchen towels and handed one to Zamian. ’Good thing I know how to cook, she thought, relieved. Otherwise, neither of us would be eating today.’

As she began cleaning, she suddenly felt Zamian’s body close behind her again. Her heart raced, and she froze. Why was he so close? She refused to move, and then he spoke softly, breaking the tension.

"Let me help you tie your hair," he offered, gently gathering her hair into a loose ponytail. He took the hair band and tied it for her. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do for now. Mira remained still, caught off guard by the unexpected intimacy of the moment, wondering when he had even gotten the hair band.

"Better," Zamian said as he gently held her waist and turned her to face him. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, and her cheeks flushed at the proximity.

"So adorable," he murmured, pinching her nose lightly, and Mira felt a rush of warmth flood her face. Could someone please explain why Zamian was acting so different today? His playful demeanor was a refreshing change, but it left her feeling bewildered.

"L-let’s clean," she managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper.

Zamian simply turned and continued cleaning, as if nothing had happened earlier, leaving Mira to ponder the strange tension that lingered in the air.

Mira stared at what he was doing and then walked toward him. "Not like that," she said, taking the towels from him and moving them in a particular direction. "Like this," she finally instructed, demonstrating the proper way to wipe down the counters.

At that point, they looked like MeTube influencers. It was clear that if they had a channel, they would easily garner millions of subscribers.

"Move your hands..." Her words faltered as she felt Zamian’s body press against her back again. He bent slightly, placing his hand on top of hers as he tried to follow her lead.

"Like this?"he asked, his voice low and slightly breathy, but Mira was too distracted to respond. He was so close she could feel his breath against her neck, and the warmth of his body pressed against hers sent her heart racing. At that moment, she didn’t know how to react.

She simply nodded, even though she didn’t really know what he was doing. His large hands enveloped her smaller ones, sending her heart into a frenzy. His breath on her ear and the weight of his body pressing against her back were overwhelming, sending her thoughts spiraling.

Finally, she snapped back to reality.

"G-good job," she stammered as she slowly pulled her hands away and began to walk back to the spot she had been cleaning earlier.

Was Zamian trying to kill her before her time? She needed to stop thinking like that. He was simply trying to learn. ’Mira, stop thinking dirty,’ her inner voice scolded her. She finally shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. Once she was done cleaning, she grabbed the fruits to wash them. After rinsing them off, she arranged them on the tray.

"I will show you how to cut them. You do the same with the rest," she instructed. Zamian nodded, and for some reason, he had been unusually obedient today, which made her suprised but also relieved.

As she began to cut, she explained,

"Cut it into squares." She cut a piece and handed it to him, watching as he took the watermelon, his face a mixture of concentration and determination. At that moment, he looked like a child in elementary school learning a new rhyme.

"Good boy," Mira said without thinking, feeling a smile tug at her lips. But before she could move on to the next task, Zamian pulled her back.

"Boy?" he echoed, a teasing tone in his voice.

Mira’s cheeks flushed, realizing her mistake.

"I mean, ’good man.’"

’Gosh, what am I even saying?’

"For some reason, I have the urge to prove you wrong," Zamian said huskily yet seriously. What was he talking about? Mira wondered.

"I—I changed it to m-man," she stammered.

Her body pressed against Zamian as he rested his hands on her waist.

"Oh really? But you said I’m good," he spoke.

"I am not Good." He finished

"I... I..." Mira’s voice refused to come out. What was she supposed to say at this point? Her cheeks flushed when she felt his hands on her thick, bare thighs.

"You have a really small waist, which makes people wonder if you eat at all. But you have a large butt, which would make people think you’re fat. You’re amusing; you’re slim thick." As he spoke, he trailed his hands around her thigh.

She was very aware of that—so why was he saying it? Her cheeks flushed even more. She felt insecure about her shape because she noticed her peers with long, slim legs. Though hers was different, she felt like a Pixar character coming to life. It was actually what many people dreamed of, but not her, as it garnered unwanted attention.

"I love it," he finished. What was he talking about? Was it her being slim thick, or was it when she called him a good boy or a good man? Which one did he mean?

"I love your figure."

Mira’s body froze. She felt as if he had transformed one of her insecurities into perfection. She had always been so insecure about her figure, but what was there to be insecure about? She was practically perfect, though she didn’t know it.

"L-Let’s continue t-the c-cooking," she stammered. She was sure that if not for all this interaction, they would have been halfway through the cooking by now.

Zamian hugged her from behind, bending his head to her ear.

"I want to prove to you that the word ’man’ is an understatement when addressing me."

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