Mika

Forty-Nine Asiel

That's the only thing that matters to me.

"She is just exaggerating." An anxious laugh croaks from my throat.

Mika raises her eyebrows with her hands on her hips. "Muñeco, you need to eat if you want your wound to heal. Don't be scared. I'm sorry, I wasn't there last time, but I will protect you." She releases a deep breath, stepping closer and closer. "I won't let anyone touch a hair on your head. Only me."

I let out a frustrated sigh. "Yeah, I know. It's a combination of a million things. I don't want to be weak anymore. I don't want to have my girlfriend looking out for me. It's supposed to be the other way around."

She rolls her eyes and moves my hair out of my eyes. "That's what your father wants you to think, but it's not true. There's nothing wrong with needing help from your girlfriend. You shouldn't feel guilt for needing me to fight for you. It's my choice, and I want to."

A sour look washes over my face. "But aren't you embarrassed? To be dating such a weak man?"

Mika's eyes soften, the golden specks glimmering in her irises as she drapes her arms around my neck. "There's nothing about you that's weak. So, you can't fight. It's no big deal. Having physical strength doesn't equal power. What you lack in strength is transferred to your mind, your words, your soul. Believe it or not. You're the strongest person I know."

Her rant causes a smile to take shape on my lips, flushing warmth like a brewing teapot. "That means a lot coming from you. Do you know that?"

She shrugs. "My opinion isn't anything special. I'm just one of the billion souls in this insignificant world."

"That's far from the truth."

Mika taps her chin as she goes to open the stocked refrigerator. "What's on the menu? What kind of cake are you feeling tonight?"

I do a quick glancer-over the ingredients in the refrigerator, trying to figure out what I'm able to make with them. Anything is possible. What would Mika devour in seconds? Chocolate? Nothing can go wrong with chocolate. With my one functioning hand, I grab butter, cream cheese, sour cream, and whipping cream.

"Okay, Muñeco, what are you thinking, or am I just going to follow you around like a puppy?" Mika states, giggling under her breath.

"Do you like cheesecake?" I ask, returning to the refrigerator. "I'm thinking of a chocolate-Irish cheesecake. With chocolate graham crackers barrier? Sounds tasty or no?"

Her eyes light up like a disco ball. "Ahhh, duh! Yay! I'm so excited. What should I start with first, captain?"

My lips curl into a smug smirk. "Preheat the oven to three hundred and twenty-five degrees. Combine all the ingredients to make the base in the bowl. Oh, the bowls are in that cabinet."

"Got it!" Mika announces, getting on her tippy toes to try to reach the bowl on the highest shelf.

My heart expands like a balloon full of love while I watch how adorable she is struggling to grab the bowl. Unable to hide my laughter, Mika cranes her neck and narrows her doe-eyes at me. She seizes a random cloth on the countertop and flings it at me, hitting me straight in the face. I gape at her with parted lips.

"That's what you get for laughing." Mika sticks her tongue out.

"It's not my fault that you're too short to reach the bowls," I defend myself.

She purses her lips. I could see the flame brewing in her irises. "Now, that's personal." Mika stomps over and playfully smacks the hell out of my arm. Except it's my injured arm. "I might be short, but I have the personality to make up for the rest."