Destiny's Gamble

Hide And Seek

Manik's POV

Angel's petite frame is shivering ever so slightly in my arms. Sushant knows better than anyone that my wife isn't in such a stable state that she can withstand great levels of emotional and mental stress. And yet the asshole is mistreating her in this manner. Had Angel not been in this condition, my fist would be getting friendly with Sushant's face right now. Murderous thoughts clouding my head, I direct my gaze towards the gate of the asshole's house. No! I mentally scold myself. Sushant can wait. 

"It's getting chilly out here," I say. "Let's get you seated in the car." Angel doesn't respond, and neither does she move a muscle to step out of my embrace. Unable to suppress my urge, I lightly rest my chin on Angel's head. My eyes shut on their own volition, the woman in my arms sending waves of relaxation through me. I tighten my grip on Angel's figure, a low hum echoing in my throat. If only I had the power to pause time and stay like this for just a while longer. 

"I-I'm sorry." Angel manages to choke out in a cracked whisper. "Give m-me another s-second." Take an entire hour, I mentally wish. How do I tell my wife that my favourite place to be is wrapped in her arms? 

"You're strong," I tell her. "I have full faith that you can come out of this stronger. A man like Sushant, someone who doesn't appreciate the gem of a person you are, doesn't deserve you. I know for sure that there's another out there, who knows of your rarity and the immense pain that is felt upon losing you." Me! "There's hope for someone better." Me! Possessing zero credibility on myself, I purposely bite down on my tongue to keep myself from voicing out my thoughts. As the metallic taste of blood touches my palette, Angel sniffs and steps out of my arms. 

"M-Manik," she says, glancing away from me, as she wipes away her tears. "I...I don't know where to go. This was the only home I knew of." Her shoulders slouching forwards, Angel turns around to glance at Sushant's house. This was never your home, Angel. But yes, other than this you have two homes to turn towards. I follow her line of sight with a disgusted gaze. This house was just that - a house. A home is constructed with warmth and care. But the owner of this particular residence is full of so much ruthlessness and bullshit, that he can never help turn it into a home for you.

"Do you remember the promise you made my mother earlier this evening?" I ask, instead of saying all that I'd thought of. "I believe it's time you fulfil it." Angel jerks her head towards me, eyes wide. 

"I - "

"Now we can stand here - chilly as hell - and argue about how you will feel intrusive if you came over and put our hospitality to the test," I interrupt her. "Or you can make this easy for me and quietly accept my invitation. Truth be told, it's late and I'm tired." As if to further enforce my point, I wrap my arms around myself. Angel opens her mouth, ready to argue. "Before you say anything, let me warn you that I'm stubborn as hell. Trust me, you'll end up conceding." She pouts, frown lines creasing her forehead. I clench my itching fist to keep myself from reaching out and smoothing those lines with the pad of my thumb.

"Manik, I shouldn't," Angel says, glancing over reluctantly at my vehicle. 

"Oh, you should. You most definitely should." I insist, heading backwards towards my car. Smiling, I nod at it. "Get in. I can assure you that our guest bedroom is bug free." The sound of a motorbike revving fills the silence around us, making Angel jump. She glances around with fear stricken eyes. 

"O-Okay," she agrees, hurriedly heading towards the passenger side of the car. 

Although I'm finding this state of Angel's comical, I cannot even begin to imagine what she's going through. Sushant was the only person who she trusted and knew in this world full of strangers. But I bet tonight has changed that. The details regarding what took place inside the confines of his house are unknown to me. Yet, I can make a rough guess, gauging from Angel's state, as to what happened. Truth be told, though, I am not entirely surprised. A nagging gut feeling was telling me not to leave. As I usually do, I gave it the benefit of the doubt, and thank the Lord for that. Otherwise, only Angel's Aiyappa knows where she would've gone at this hour, and who she would've turned to for help. Heck, she's someone who doesn't even wish to seek favours from others, no matter how desperately she's in need of them. The mere thought of Angel roaming the streets of Mumbai, alone, has a shudder rushing down my spine and rage spreading through my veins. Although I am letting Sushant off the hook tonight, his unlucky day will come for him very soon. I will come for him.

*****

"Morning." Angel says from behind me, as I'm passing the pad of my index finger over the canvas, to check if it's dry. Smiling, I turn around.

"Good morning!" I greet her enthusiastically. Puzzled, she offers me a confused smile.

"Why do you sound so excited?" My wife asks. 

"Because it's not just a good morning, but a great one." I nod to myself. "After all, I get to see your face." Picking up the canvas, I take a step towards Angel, before stopping. "You have brushed, right?" Thank the Lords above, a grin breaks out across my wife's face at my pathetic attempt at a joke. Tilting my head to the side, I allow myself the liberty to admire her gorgeous face.

"You look beautiful when smiling," I say truthfully. "Don't allow any ass to come along and wipe this look off your face." Clearing her throat, Angel purses her lips together, diverting her gaze away from mine. And I've ruined the moment! I'm an idiot. 

"Manik, what's that?" Angel asks, nodding towards the canvas in my hands. Coming back to the present, I hold the rectangular object out towards her, the painted side facing downwards.

"It's for you," I say. "Remember when I told you that I'm a not-so-good artist?" Excitedly, Angel nods her head. 

"Is this really what I think it is?" She asks, her eyes sparkling. 

"Don't get your hopes up too high." I warn, as she takes the canvas from my hands. Flipping it over, Angel holds it up in front of her face, thereby concealing herself from my view. Furrowing my brows, I move to the left, so that my eyes can once again feast upon Angel's radiant grin. 

"This is...This is beautiful," she says in awe. "I don't mean to sound self conceited, but you make me look like a true work of art." Her eyes are full of disbelief, as they scan the entirety of the canvas.

"I guess when one's got the right muse - " I begin to say.

"The brush and canvas begin to speak a language of their own," Angel completes.

"Exactly," I smile in satisfaction.  "That's exactly what I was going to say." Pouting, she lowers the canvas, the gears in her head at work again. "Last night, when we reached home, you told me that you look ugly while crying." I add hurriedly, so as to halt her brain from working overtime. It's quite obvious that the past is playing hide and seek with Angel, and she's trying her level best to seek it out as soon as she can. "I painted this, so I could show you the beauty that I witnessed last night. Truth be told, your beauty shines at any given time, be it night or day." And I hope that forevermore, I am fortunate enough to bear witness to it. 

A gasp escapes Angel's lips, as her eyes land on mine. Oh fuck, have I allowed my tongue to spew more than it should? But it's such a fucking task to treat this woman - my wife - as a friend, when she has always been more than that. Even when I used to date Alya, Angel was never just a friend, or just my girlfriend's sister. There was always something more to us. Sure, I didn't realise it at the time, but I do now. And I feel like such a fucking idiot for not understanding that I had met a gem the second I first laid eyes on Angel. 

"Sir, please let me ask them first." The guard's loud voice enters my ears. What's going on? I have never heard this man speak above a whisper, much less yell. 

"She's my fucking girlfriend!" Sushant's voice follows, as a door bangs. At once, Angel's face falls, her fingers latching onto the necklace she's wearing. This is her house. Anyone who makes her feel nervous, or uncomfortable, is most certainly not welcome.