Marrying The Supposed Gold Digger (Valerie)

“Did you cut yourself? Let’s get you to the hospital!” Matthew’s expression darkened with concern as he quickly reached for her hand, guiding her toward the door.

Valerie was startled by his reaction and quickly reassured him, “It’s okay, Mr. Grant. It’s just a small cut. I’ll wash it off and put a band–aid on it.”

It was a common mishap for anyone who spent time in the kitchen. Valerie had been handling kitchen knives since she was twelve. Back then, she was so small that handling the heavy knives was a clumsy affair, often leading to nicks and cuts.

The worst incident happened when she was trying to peel a potato. The knife slipped, slicing deeply into the palm of her left hand, the cut so severe that it nearly removed the skin, blood pouring profusely.

In the rural household where she grew up, medical supplies were scarce. Her grandmother managed to stop the bleeding with a strip of cloth before they could get her to a clinic in the nearby village. There, the wound was cleaned and bandaged, taking nearly two weeks to heal properly.

The only lingering consequence was a grayish mark on her palm, a remnant of the dirt from the potato that had embedded itself into her skin during the healing process. As a child, Valerie had been terrified that her hand might become infected or worse.

It wasn’t until she was older and had her first job that she could afford to see a doctor about it. The doctor explained that the dirt was non–toxic, which finally put her fears to rest. Nôvel/Dr(a)ma.Org - Content owner.

The doctor had been amazed at her fortune in avoiding tetanus with such a deep wound. That experience had taught Valerie how lucky she had been. Now, facing such a minor cut, she saw it as

trivial compared to her past injuries.

After her previous mishap, however, Valerie knew the importance of cleaning a wound properly. She quickly swabbed the cut with alcohol and applied a band–aid. As she turned around, she noticed Matthew still lingering behind her, looking noticeably worried about her cut.

He hesitantly offered, “Can I do anything to help?” Despite his usual stoic expression, Valerie could see a flicker of anxiety in his eyes. It was a side of him she hadn’t seen before. She wondered if he might be squeamish about blood. It seemed likely; after all, everyone had their fears, and being tall didn’t make one immune to them.

Grateful for his concern yet wanting to ease his worry, Valerie smiled warmly. “Actually, Mr. Grant, now that I’ve got this band–aid on, I shouldn’t get it wet. Could you help me by washing some vegetables?”

Matthew glanced at the sink brimming with greens. He briefly considered calling a housekeeper but dismissed the thought almost immediately. Instead, he rolled up his sleeves.

His experience in the kitchen was minimal, but he knew the basics. Washing vegetables shouldn’t be that hard.

Valerie had already done most of the prep work, including handling the seafood and meat. She had left only the vegetables. Following her lead, Matthew filled the sink, meticulously removed any wilted leaves, and began washing them.

Meanwhile, Valerie seized the chance to focus on cooking the meat. Just as she placed it on the stove, Matthew announced he was done.

Valerie was inwardly astonished. Given how awkwardly he had handled the dishes earlier, she hadn’t expected such efficiency with the vegetables.

However, when she turned to inspect his work, she found that the vegetables were indeed washed, but they looked hardly different from when they were purchased. It dawned on her that she might have overestimated his kitchen skills.

Sometimes, her husband seemed too distant from ordinary people, as if daily chores like washing vegetables were beneath his notice.