Destiny's Gamble

It's A Start

A/N: And as promised, that's the video of the second song Manik sang, which is called Poison and Wine. According to me, it aptly describes MaNan's situation, even though it's not a song I would generally listen to or like. But I do, and I hope you do too.  Happy reading xx 

As I'm about to step onto the first stair, a death grip is wound around my wrist, yanking me around and into a hard chest. 

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Manik growls. This time I don't struggle because I'm well aware that my efforts will be in vain, and I'll be uselessly wasting my energy.

"Me?" I raise my eyebrows in surprise. "May I remind you that you're the one who almost ran me over with a car today?" 

"Exactly! Why didn't you back down?" He asks, his eyes trying to drag out an answer from mine. There's fury in those orbs, but it's mixed with...concern. For me? Before I know it, a smile has made its way onto my lips. 

"Because I know you won't ever harm me," I reply simply. The faded bruises that mark my arms and the tight hold that Manik has on me right now contradicts my words. But he knows it, as well as I do, that I'm not talking about these minor wounds. 

"What makes you think that? If my car hadn't stalled out there," Manik nods his head towards the front door. "Then you'd have been dead today."

I shake my head, a telltale smile spreading across my face. 

"Your car didn't stall Manik," I say. "You cut the engine. I know you well enough to know this. Don't challenge me." 

Manik lets go of my wrist, banging his fist against his forehead. He turns around, waves of frustration radiating off of him. 

"That's just the fucking goddamn issue," Manik hisses, turning back around to face me. He tilts his head downwards to meet me at eye level. "You know me. I trusted you. Fuck, I want to talk to you about this entire situation, but how? How can I bitch about my wife to you when you're her?" 

I can hear in Manik's voice that he's reached his limit. The man's broken inside. But on the outside he is putting up this facade of just being angry and that has drained him. He is an empty vessel. He needs to vent to somebody so desperately that my heart is in tears for him. 

"Why not talk to Cabir? Eva? Anyone from your gang?" I ask, wanting to reach out towards Manik and embrace him. 

"Because," he lets out a frustrated sigh, shaking his head. "That would mean badmouthing you and I...I can't bring myself to do that." Manik entangles his fingers into his hair, tugging at the ends of his strands. "I am sick of me nowadays. I disgust myself, Nandini, and it's all on you." He points an accusing finger towards my chest. "This manhandling, borderline abusive man isn't me. I...I hate myself," he mumbles, his voice cracking towards the end. "For hurting you," Manik adds as an after thought. But considering how low his tone was, I doubt he wanted me to hear it.

If a heart could break with sound, then the entire neighborhood would hear mine shattering. I didn't feel this broken when I thought Manik was going to marry Alya, and I'd lose him forever. I didn't feel such an aching sensation in my heart when he abused me after marriage and rejected me so blatantly. No. This ache is different. It's ten times worse and it's all for him, because of him. 

I stretch my hand towards Manik. My fingers barely brush his shoulder before he shrugs his shoulder roughly out of my grasp. 

"Bitch," I murmur, testing the word out on my tongue. It's rare that I use such curse words, and so according to me they sound weird coming out of my lips. "Bitch, that's what you call it, right?" I say, loud enough this time so that Manik can hear me. "Go ahead and bitch about me. I'm listening."

Manik's gaze lands on mine, surprise clouding his black orbs. 

"Have you been drinking from my stash?" He asks, raising his eyebrows questioningly. Smiling, I shake my head. 

"I'm dead serious," I say. "Go ahead and bitch about your wife to me. I'd like to know what's so bad about her that you hate her so much. She doesn't sound like such a bad lady, if you ask me." 

"Yes, well I didn't," Manik snaps. "Words cannot describe what a horrible woman she is. For fuck's sake, she wasn't even supposed to be my wife." I roll my eyes, taking a seat on the bottom step. I bring my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them.

"Other than that, Manik, what's so horrible about her?" I ask, resting my chin on my arms. He watches me unsurely, confused about what I'm doing. After a few seconds, he gives in and takes a seat in front of me, leaning his back against the wall.

"She tries too hard," he says, leaning his head back. "It's as if she thinks one breakfast could make up for the pain she's caused me. I...I really considered her a friend, you know?"

It takes every last bone of self control in me to stop my tongue from running free and defending myself. Hearing all this rubbish about myself isn't easy. Not rushing to my defense is even tougher.

"I don't know," I say, hoping I sound unbiased. "I mean, she keeps making breakfast, and so I think she's well aware that one meal just won't cut it." 

"I don't want her goddamn meals," Manik replies in a low tone. "I want her to go back to not being my wife, so she can be my friend again."

"And being both isn't an option?" Manik turns his head towards me, his eyes gazing into mine with the utmost level of seriousness. 

"No," he replies simply, but sternly. Manik stands up, dusting his palms against the sides of his jeans. "This was nice while it lasted. But I'm done with it." He bounds up the staircase, not once turning around. 

But instead of feeling dejected, I'm alive with hope. Manik actually sat down with me, had a conversation, and cracked a joke. That's great progress, considering how before he didn't even want to look at me, much less exchange a few words. I can see that his anger is decreasing as the weeks increase. 

I smile, standing up and heading towards the kitchen. Time to make another meal that will get thrown into the dustbin a few hours after it's made.