Three days have gone by since our wedding, and yet I've not seen Manik even once since the night he stormed out of the car.
During the second day, I realized that I possess no way to contact Manik, other than his phone number. That, however, is useless right now as he refuses to answer any of my calls. I don't even know where else to look for him, or who else to contact. This realization also led me to understand just how little I know about the man.
Contrary to what I thought before our wedding, Manik and I aren't close at all. In fact, one could even categorize us as mere acquaintances. Such thoughts lead me to believe that marrying him was one of the biggest mistakes I could've made.
After all, decisions made in haste and impulsiveness are never meant to give positive results.
The night the driver brought me to Manik's house, putting aside all my stress and worries, I came in awe of his house. Calling it a house is an insult because this place is definitely a mansion.
Upon entering through the grand gates, one's eyes immediately fall upon a ceramic fountain in the middle of the driveway. A baby angel spews out water from the top of the fountain into its main bowl.
To the left side of this structure spans a spacious garden, which wraps around till the back of the house, where it stops only to be met by a rectangular pool. The tiles at the base of the pool are placed together in such a manner that they portray a guitar.
The interior of the house has three floors: a basement, the first and second floor. Manik's room is located at the second floor, with a balcony which overlooks the poolside, and has a pool of its own, along with a jacuzzi.
As far as I can tell, his room is the most spacious one out of all the six rooms in this house. It has its very own living room, mini bar and walk-in-closet, which leads into a bathroom which is the size of my old room.
The night I arrived here, Sateesh - Manik's cook - was going to place my belongings in my husband's room. However, after the reaction I received in the car, moving into Manik's room seemed like I was doing something wrong. As if I was breaching his privacy and willingly poking the Devil even further.
Therefore, I asked Sateesh about the extra rooms in this house. Turns out that the room right beside Manik's is unused, and so I got my stuff taken in there. It's a beautiful room, with a walk-in-closet, bathroom and square balcony. In fact this room is more than enough to keep me happy. If only the one who owns it was with me.
"Ma'am, I've washed all of the new glasses and put them to dry," Sateesh says, stepping into the lounge.
"Great, thank you. I'll handle the rest on my own," I tell him, gathering up the discarded styrofoam. "You can rest for the night now."
He smiles, giving me a polite nod. I'm ever grateful to this man for helping me for the past three days.
On my first day in here, I realized that Manik's house is just a house, and not a warm home. That's why to eradicate my boredom, I've been putting in my level best efforts to bring about a homely feel to this place.
But considering how huge this place is, every minor change takes a ton of energy from my end.
"Now for the kitchen," I murmur to myself, taking hold of the cutlery trays and standing up.
*****
After three hours, I'm finally done unpacking the crockery and cutlery that I brought with, setting it up in properly allocatted places - unlike what Manik had done with his - and rearranging all the other items in the kitchen.
I stand in the kitchen doorway, admiring my work. This kitchen now seems like it belongs to that of a house, and not a hotel, in which few items are scattered here and there, making it seem completely impersonal.
I must also pay a visit to a grocery store tomorrow, and stock up the now empty fridge. God knows how Manik survives. I grab a Coke can from the fridge and head to my room.
My online course is starting from tomorrow and so I will finally have something to occupy my time with. Sitting at home doing nothing is definitely not my cup of tea. Now that everything is done and over with - thankfully - I can begin a normal routine.
I turn on the tv, wrapping a blanket around myself. Just as I'm about to play the show I want to watch, I hear a door slam downstairs. Is the Devil home? I grip the blanket tighter than before, unsure of whether I should go and check.
My heart is telling me to go and check up on Manik, and see if he's in one piece. However, my brain is chiding me for even thinking such a foolish thought. Stay put, it's saying.
I'm sure Babu - the guard - won't just allow anyone to come in.
More doors slam, the sounds making me wince every time they resonate in my ear. Silence ensues after a while. Maybe Manik's gone to bed.
My room door is suddenly shoved open, the handle banging against the wall behind. I jump, Coke spilling onto my lap.
A frightened yelp escapes my lips.
"Where is all my stuff?" Manik yells, his eyes wide with anger.
"What stuff?" I ask, confused. For some reason, although I should be mad and upset, I feel a certain sense of relief at the sight of him. At least he's alive and safe.
"My kitchen shit!"
"In the dustbin," I reply simply.
"Listen, I'm not in the mood for jokes." Manik warns, shoving an index finger in my direction.
Huffing dramatically, I kick my legs off the bed and stand up, placing my drink on the bedside table.
"Follow," I order, making my way out of the room. "Oh, and you're welcome in advance. As I step off the last stair, a furry body emerges in front of me, making me halt.
"Oh my God," I say, getting down on my knees in front of the cute hairy figure. "And who is this handsome one?" I ask the dog, fondling his ears. He sniffs my feet for a few seconds, before lovingly showering sloppy kisses along my hands. "Alex, isn't it?"
"How do you know my dog's name?" Manik asks cautiously from behind. I spare him a quick glance over my shoulder.
"It's on his collar tag," I explain. Alex plops himself down on the floor in front of my feet, silently telling me to continue petting him.
"You were supposed to show me where my stuff is at."
"Oh, yeah." I say, coming back to the present. I stand up, Alex sticking to my legs. His fur tickles the bare skin of my ankles, as the three of us make our way towards the kitchen.
"All your stuff's here, just slightly rearranged," I explain, opening a cabinet. "Glasses," I nod towards the interior of it.
In this manner, I guide Manik throughout the kitchen, informing him about the items the cabinets carry. Alex follows me like a shadow, his tail constantly at work.
Once I've opened and shut the last cabinet, I turn around to face Manik, leaning against a counter.
"So that's about it," I say, drumming my fingers against the counter-top. I'm quite proud with what I've accomplished tonight. However, Manik's expression is the polar opposite of mine.
"Who the fuck gave you the right to mess with my things?" He asks, his voice dangerously low.
"Because it was a tornado hit room," I gesture around the place with my hands. "And now look at it." Manik fists his left hand, banging it against the door of a cabinet.
"You're a nobody!" His voice booms across the room, shaking the very foundation of this place. "You have no right whatsoever to fuck up my things. My life," Manik clenches his jaw.
His words strike my heart like a hot branding knife. After the past few days of sharing such a beautiful bond with him, such harsh sentences affect me much more than I like.
In fact, I don't even understand the issue. Manik was perfectly okay with our marriage until the car set off. If only he would be open to having a decent conversation with me, so that I can clear out this cloud of confusion in my head.
"I am your wife," I retory, equal strength displayed in my tone. "You might not wish to accept that, but it's a fact. We've signed a marriage contract."
"One which I don't accept. Get that in your head!"
"You will have to learn how to. I'll be cooking inside our kitchen and that's why I re-arranged the items to bring myself some ease." I begin to make my way through the kitchen and towards the door.
The backdoor creaks open and both our heads turn to see Sateesh entering.
"Sorry, Sir." He says, bowing down a bit, when he realizes that the two of us are inside. I bet he can feel the tension which is crackling through the air. I continue to make my way towards the door, Alex close beside my heels.
As I'm about to cross paths with Manik, he grabs hold of my forearm, his nails digging into my skin.
"Don't push it," he whispers in my ear, as I struggle to get his death grip off of me.
Manik's breath reeks of alcohol. Aiyappa, the man's drunk.
"Then get used to it," I say through gritted teeth, yanking my arm away from him. I need to get away from him as soon as I can.
Quite frankly, I don't trust him in such a state, simply because he has no control over his actions.
Tucking the hem of my shirt back into place, I march past Manik, my shoulder bumping against his.