Days passed by in absolutely the same way, so much, that Sofia could not differentiate one day from another. The only change, however, was Max's myriad abilities to tiptoe around her, dodging her queries, confusing her confusions, numbing her ever present suspicions—but all of it only when he was present before her in person. The moment he would walk away was the moment the set of logic in her mind would solidify again.

It was a tiring game—the push and pull of her thoughts. And so, by the seventh day, she became restless enough to storm out the room with as much speed her injured foot allowed her to use. She travelled down the corridor and halted at the end of the staircase, looking down again at the flight of stairs beneath her.

She repositioned herself so that she was now standing with her side facing the stairs, holding the banister tight with one hand. Sucking in a long breath she lowered her crutch to the next step, she released her breath when she put her good foot beside the crutch, then her injured foot's toes next with as less pressure on her ankle as possible. She slowly began climbing down the stairs this way.

It's been a week now and she should be able to do this, she thought firmly.

Climbing down the stairs was an absolute hassle no matter how much her confidence and excitement was. Sofia felt like a mountain goat doing the task sideways so that she wouldn't have to reach the ground floor face first and then gain another crutch on the other hand.

Debbie threw up her arms to cover her mouth in shock, when Sofia nonchalantly entered the kitchen.

Leaning against the counter Sofia took a moment to catch her breath, then lifted her crutch and pointed at Debbie with it, her face damn serious as she spoke, "Not a word to Max."

With the help of Debbie again, Sofia then began her own version of meditation in the well equipped kitchen. Cooking.

Just like Dr. Bethany had said at one point of the session, "Meditation is not particularly sitting in lotus pose, it's more doing something that one enjoys the most." That was one of her blockbuster lines. Sofia was soon becoming quite fond of the wise doc, much like she was of her grampa.

So, for the next hour and a half more, Sofia sat on a bar stool before the stoves and relished on doing what she could do the best.

The sound of knife on the chopping board and spatula in the pan; the feeling of heat and sweat; the nice smell of herbs and spices and at last a well prepared meal brought a grin so wide on her face that even Debbie beamed at the sight of her employer's wife.

Bean, the security guard, was summoned inside the house along with all other staff of the household whose names Sofia just got to know. Debbie was flabbergasted when Sofia told them all to enjoy dinner while she took a quick shower. While leaving for upstairs Sofia had a feeling that she had just unexpectedly moved all of Max's staff to her side, the look all those people gave her was of sheer loyalty. Or maybe she had just imagined that.

--

"I've got information that you were cooking in the kitchen for nearly two hours. What do you have to say about that?" Max was in one of his darkest moods, sitting across from Sofia at the medium sized table. The furniture was earlier wrestled into the room by two of the staff who avoided looking at Sofia in the eye.

Sofia almost scoffed but held herself back. Instead, she replied calmly, "That you should stop terrorizing your staff into giving you data about my daily activities. They help with the household works, stop treating them like amateur members of the FBI."

Corners of Max's mouth twitched, and then the impossible happened, they lifted up into a smile.

Sofia's mouth fell open in shock.

Her shot back was supposed to rile him up, was she dreaming that he was instead smiling at that. Holy hell!

There was definitely something wrong here. Things wouldn't have been like this just a couple days ago. What had changed?

The smile disappeared slowly but still left behind some kind of a glow on his tired face.

Max sighed and said, "You're just out of the hospital, sporting bruised limbs, limping around with a crutch. The doctor clearly suggested you to rest and the medications you're having are also quite powerful. What on earth possessed you that you went into the kitchen? Forget kitchen. You shouldn't have even walked down that staircase!"

"Then how was I supposed to go down the stairs?" Sofia asked, getting irritated. "As much as you like to think the otherwise, I'm very much capable of taking care of myself. It's been a bloody week. Please go back to being normal, I've had enough of your drama."

"Drama," Max repeated, unimpressed.

While Sofia stood up and bent forward to drag the bowls and trays closer to her, Max opened and closed his mouth like he was about to say something but decided against it at the last moment.

Ignoring his antics she concentrated on lifting the lids off the bowls one by one.

Max cleared his throat demanding to be noticed. "What is that?" he asked coolly.

"Hmmm?" Sofia glanced up briefly his way. "Oh, roast lemon chicken."

Craning her neck down she took a long sniff of the heaven of a chicken before her, the magical smell made her mouth water.

Even after all the staff had their fair shares of what all she cooked, there were still so much more left. That was even better, she loved left-over as a snack the next day too.

Sofia was just about to put the first morsel in her mouth when again Max cleared his throat, louder this time.

"Then why I've pizza in front of me?" he asked, pointing down at his own plate looking annoyed.

Because you deserve a repeat telecast, Sofia thought mischievously.

Fork still paused before her mouth, Sofia raised a brow. "Because you prefer take outs from reputed five star restaurants over food cooked by chefs of small and cheap diners."

Nailed it!

Finally, without considering someone's dark glare across the table, she put the fork in her mouth and her taste buds rejoiced at the flavor. She heard a distinct sigh and couldn't help but feel pleased.

--

Sofia held her hand between them, stopping Max.

"I can do it on my own," she said.

Max scoffed and looked down at her foot and then towards the flight of stairs. "I know you can, but the doctor suggested you not to put any pressure on the injured foot."

"I've got this elbow crutch for that reason," she tapped the bottom of the crutch against the wooden banister to drag his stubborn attention to it. "Besides, I've been climbing the stairs since yesterday fairly well all-by-myself."

"Which I clearly didn't give my consent to. And yet I find you cooking up a bloody storm the moment I come home after a day of hard work—"

Hold on a second.

Sofia cut in, "How could you even think that I would need your consent for anything I do!"

Max harrumphed. "Imagine for one second you rolling down the staircase like a stray pumpkin. Now do you grasp what I'm trying to point out here?"

Sofia straightened to her full height, yet sadly it couldn't match his.

"I do not give you my consent to carry me up the stairs, you've done enough of that already. That's it," she announced it firmly.

"Then, please, consider giving me your consent to help you limp your bloody damn way up there."

Didn't it sound a bit familiar?

But why the hell he was being so adamant, even now.

Without another word he slid an arm around her waist, hauled her almost halfway up his body and propelled her forward. Her feet and crutch barely touched the ground anymore.

In the absence of even a fair warning, she shrieked in surprise. "Oi. Are you bloody insane!"

"I refuse to waste another moment at the bottom of the stairs, arguing."

It was not like she did not know it before, but she got to know it again—Max had the strength of a stubborn bull and he was not wasting a single chance to show it.

Sofia was almost certain he was striking his vainglory over her this way, demonstrating how weak she was than him in every aspect. His base purpose might be to subdue her, which could very well be part of his next sinister trap.

Damn, she was conjuring up newer theories to describe his behaviors regarding her.

Nonetheless, she was not going to be fooled. She decided.

Her walls this time were going to be stronger than his attempts.