Too old.
Too tall.
Too rich.
Too out of my league.
That's Aryan Arora, the billionaire CEO for me. But apparently, he is the perfect marriage material guy according to the world's pushiest parents of mine.
Getting married was neve...
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"Can you please relax? It's just a small cut." I assured patiently.
"But, Ria, there is so much blood! Am I going to need stitches? God, that will require needles right? And what if the blood never stops?!" He talked nonsensically.
"It will stop in a few minutes, just wait," I said, cleaning his wound with the antiseptic. He still didn't sit straight and continued to be jittery. "Aryan, you are the next best version of Hulk. And small cuts or needles don't harm Hulk-like people. I won't be able to do anything to stop the bleeding if you continue to panic so much."
"But it's so much blood!"
I swabbed the cotton to clean the blood which continued to pour enormously from the small gash.
When I had gone to take a bath, Aryan had cut his finger with precise expertise, trying to experiment with the working of the chopper. I couldn't even imagine what bodily harm he would cause himself if he tried to work directly with the knife.
I had asked for his help in chopping to reduce my workload, but now it appears to have been magnified. Because now I needed to take care of his man-baby tendencies of wounding himself with the smallest of things and then acting like a Class-A drama queen as if he had been chopped into pieces with a sword instead of just a tiny normal bruise with a kitchen blade.
I took out another blob of cotton from the first-aid box and pressed it on his finger where the cut was and instructed, "Hold it gently. I will be back in a bit."
I quickly went to the closet and found the small bag containing my nail paints. I picked the silver one and rushed outside.
I pressed the cotton a little more firmly to restrict the flow temporarily as he winced. "I am going to apply a coat of silver nail paint over this okay?"
"What!? Are you crazy? It's like giving an open invitation to infection!" He exclaimed with a shaky voice.
"Trust me. It would stop the blood flow. And no infection would be there."
"Are you sure?" He asked unsurely.
"Hundred and ten percent."
Removing the cotton, I applied a thick layer of nail paint around his wound as he cursed at the burn it must have brought to his finger.
The blood stopped oozing out immediately and I sighed in relief.
"I felt like I was going to die of the blood loss." Aryan slumped on the bed.
Like I said, Drama Queen.
"A person can't die from a measly scratch, you know that right?"
"I think I am feeling dizzy with the high amount of blood I have lost today." He whimpered, rolling his head into the mattress.
