Emperor of Mayhem

t h i r t y - s e v e n

//  T  H  E   J  E W E  L   T  H  I  E  F \\

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As hours bled into days, days into weeks and weeks into months, I realised that the more time spent with Mikhail, the more it started to seem that I might I have liked him a little bit too much.

My heart had begun to beat faster around him now, and my cheeks wouldn't take a second to flame up at the laziest of touches from him or the littlest of adoring glance my way.

It had been two months now since I woke up from the coma, two months since I found myself living with this strange, though beautiful man who I should probably be wary of as I didn't exactly know him other than the picture of himself that he painted for my blank mind; a fiercely loyal friend of mine who felt such deep love for me though I could never find it in me to reciprocate.

Did he truly love me? I wasn't sure, but the way he treated me, I didn't think there was more a man could do for the woman he loved so greatly that he wouldn't or hadn't done for me.

Was he really my friend like he said he was? I wasn't sure either. Whatever defined friendship from enmity was a puzzle I couldn't solve yet. But I just knew he took good care of me. He was older than me but he was always ready to turn himself into some teenage boy just for me.

Was he pretending? I didn't know. I just knew I loved every moment with him. I didn't want to ever hate him. And I didn't want to find out too why I said I hated him before my unfortunate accident.

I also didn't want to know what he does for a living. I didn't want to know because I had a hunch it was something really bad.

I was a coward who wasn't ready to confront the nature of man he was because at this point, I had found myself caring about him a little bit more than I should for a man that was as good as a stranger to me. I had started to think about him way too much than I thought about my past. I had begun to crave his presence, yearn for his touch and constantly listen up for the sound of his husky voice all too earnestly.

I had started to desire his darkness a little bit more than I should.

He had been gone for the stupid meeting for over two hours now and I didn't know how much more I could use the clock app to hold myself back from charging out of this room and going in search of him.

I had taken a break from tiktok because one, I was tired and two, his phone's battery was already on red. Leaving it to charge made me idle again and I thought exploring his room would be nice.

But it didn't help the littlest bit. It was his room after all. Every inch of it had a hint of him in it. The bathroom smelt like his shampoo and his after shave. All the clothes in the walk-in closet smelt of him...and a hint of me too since him and I were sharing the space.

Every corner had a shadow of him in it—dark as night with the mesmerizing scent of flower and wood...a little bit loamy.

My feet explored around the corner where his study desk was. My nosey attitude I readily blamed on boredom when I found my fast fingers pulling out each of the drawers by the table. Some had wads of crispy notes; money. Some were travelling documents and identity cards. 

The last drawer had a sketchpad in it. Curiosity did make me open it and what I saw on the very first page made me wonder. It was a handwritten note which read—From Rana with Love. Now that didn't bother me much. What caused an evident pang, I supposed jealousy, in my chest was that every page till the very end had a sketch of a girl exactly my age. I supposed she was Rana as he always signed her name at the end of every page.