Destiny's Gamble

Breakfast Fiascos

Manik didn't know? Chachi didn't tell him? I broke his trust?

A thousand different unanswered questions and hurricanes of confusion, all revolving around Manik, are wreaking havoc inside my head.

I need to dissect what went down between Manik and myself in the last few minutes. Everything took place so fast, like a whirlwind, that I need to sit down calmly and pick his words apart to make sense of the situation.

The only thing that's continuously ringing a bell in my head is Manik saying that he didn't know. How can he say that? Chachi said she told him about the bride swap and that he was perfectly alright with it.

In fact, like he said, we even spoke before the wedding and he was on board with the plan then as well. Wait...we never directly discussed me being his new bride.

Aiyappa, did Chachi really tell Manik? Or did she lie to me? But why would she hide the truth from him? Is it because she thought he wouldn't accept me?

Would he have gone through with the wedding if he knew I was the bride?

I squeeze my eyes shut, placing the heels of my palms on either side of my head. All these unanswered, head hurting questions will cause me a mental breakdown.

I need a distraction. Yeah, occupying myself will help and then I will sit down calmly at a later time and give this entire matter some serious thought.

You're only procrastinating, a voice yells at me. Crushing that voice under the soles of my feet, I head out of the lounge and straight into the kitchen.

Cooking is always an activity which provides me with pleasant distractions at much needed hours, like right now.

"I'll handle today's breakfast." I tell Sateesh, as I grab an apron off the hook behind the kitchen door. "You can rest for now. Thank you." My tone is curt and dismissive, but I can't help it.

I'm undergoing a ton of different emotions, coupled with a bunch of unanswered questions, and so being polite is the least of my concerns.

Yanking open the cabinet beside the fridge, I pull out a glass bowl and slam it onto the countertop. As I'm staring at the inside of the bowl, a tear slips down its surface, staining the otherwise dry dish.

What has my life turned into?

*****

"Sateesh! Where is my shake?" Manik yells, storming into the kitchen, his eyes fixated on his phone screen.

"I've made some fresh orange juice instead," I say, placing the pitcher beside the rest of the breakfast dishes. Thereby completing today's morning meal.

Manik looks up, his eyes first landing on my face and then scanning the variety of dishes I've displayed across the breakfast counter.

"You made this?" Manik asks, arching an eyebrow. I nod, trying to read the emotions he's hiding in those black orbs of his. "All of this?" I nod again, lacing my fingers together.

Manik slides his phone into the back pocket of his jeans and casually takes a few steps towards the counter.

"I didn't know what you preferred, so I made a selection of dishes," I explain.

Manik nods, smiling at me.

"It all smells divine," he comments, shutting his eyes and inhaling a deep breath. "The scrambled eggs, the French toasts, and oh, those freshly cut fruits." Manik eyes the dishes as if he can't wait to devour them in one breath. "Must've taken a heck of effort on your behalf, huh?"

"Well, I mean, cooking is my hobby," I say cautiously. "Um...so the work, as you must think it is, doesn't really feel like work to me at all. For me, all this got done within the blink of an eye."

Manik is still smiling, although now his smile is creeping me out. He continues his painfully slow walk towards the counter.

"There's so much to learn about you," Manik says, reaching the counter. His fingers skim the edges of the pitcher of juice, while his other hand picks up the plate of scrambled eggs.

I watch his actions unsurely, my eyes narrowing as I try to figure out what his true intentions are.

I didn't make breakfast solely for him, but I did also make it keeping him in mind. God knows why I'm still trying to please him, even after all he's done. This makes me purely pathetic.

"This isn't the rightful place for these dishes," Manik says, removing his fingers from the pitcher and grabbing the plate of French toasts.

"W-What..." I trail off, as I watch Manik head past the breakfast counter and towards the trash can. He presses down on the lever with his right foot, the steel lid popping open.

"No!" I exclaim, just as Manik tilts the plate of eggs over the mouth of the bin, the contents slipping into the steel structure like a waterfall. "Don't do that!"

Manik slides the now empty plate onto a counter and drops the contents of the other plate into the bin as well.

"That's the rightful place for food made by you," Manik announces, turning around and facing me.

"Why...Why would you do that?" I exclaim, gripping the back of the bar stool, my knuckles turning white.

"Because anything made by trash belongs in the trash," the Devil replies simply. He picks up the plate of fruit and omelettes, making his way back towards the dustbin.

I'm well aware of his intentions now and so I march towards him, gripping his shoulder tightly.

"You will not throw the remainder of the food I made into the dustbin," I say sternly.

"Watch me," Manik offers me a quick glance over his shoulder, before he yanks it out of my grasp and stands in front of the dustbin.

He pops the lid open, but doesn't drop the food into it. Instead he cocks his head to the side and tsks, shaking his head.

"Oh, would you look at that?" Manik says, sounding disappointed. "The dustbin's all full."

I furrow my brows together in confusion. What does he mean? While I was cooking, I kept throwing in trash and the bag is not even a quarter full.

"But that's okay," Manik continues. "Because considering you're standing there, I guess we are collecting garbage on that spot."

Before I can register a word of what he said, Manik walks over to me and dumps the contents of the plates on my head.

The cold juices of the fruits trickle down my shoulders and bare arms, soaking up the front of my clothes. While the yolks of the eggs stick in my hair, assuring me a long lasting stench.

"Much better," Manik sighs in satisfaction, as he takes a step back to admire his work. "There's a lot of trash remaining though."

The Devil picks up another plate and empties its contents over my head once more. Next, he picks up the pitcher of juice, but before he can do the honors for that, I splay my palms across his chest and give him a shove.

"Get away from me!" I yell, bolting out of the kitchen and towards the stairs.