MY MYSTERIOUS MAN

Chapter 22

"Manik taught me so much about life. He showed me the beauty of savoring what I enjoy eating. He empowered me to make my own decisions. He made me feel cherished, seen and heard.

But why, Manik? Why are you doing this?"

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The days have been rushing past since Manik left this room. Ever since I came back here, things have been quite different. I've found a new appreciation for enjoying my meals and have been diligent about getting regular health checkups. Occasionally, a doctor visits to make sure everything's okay. But in the midst of all this, there's a lot weighing on my mind, and I can't seem to find Manik anywhere to get the answers I need.

The maid who looks after me has had a complete change in attitude. When we first met, she seemed quite haughty, but now it's like she sees me as the one in charge of the house. Her behavior has shifted a lot, and it's a stark contrast from how things started between us.

She took the tray of food from the trolley and carefully set it on the table. As she reached for a glass, her hand slipped, and the glass crashed to the ground, shattering. A shard grazed my skin, causing a sharp hiss of pain to escape my lips.

"Madam! I am so sorry!" She panicked, falling to the ground in distress. Hastily, she attempted to tend to the wound, her hands shaking as she tried to clean the blood from my feet. But as she apologized and fumbled to assist, her voice suddenly ceased, leaving the room enveloped in an eerie silence, interrupted only by the sound of my racing heartbeat.

"What's wrong?" I inquired, but she remained silent, her actions halted mid-motion, a frozen statue of apology and alarm. The abrupt cessation of her movements created a void in the room, a palpable silence that spoke volumes, leaving me filled with apprehension and an unnerving sense of uncertainty.

"Please, move... It's fine," I stammered, a sense of unease creeping in.

As the tension mounted, the door suddenly swung open, revealing Manik standing at the entrance.

"Manik!" I exclaimed.

"Get out," he commanded the maid, who hastily fled the room.

"Where have you been all this time? Leaving me with countless questions. Why did you abandon me here? Why am I being treated well? What is your purpose?" I fired off my barrage of questions, but he remained silent, his expression unreadable as he calmly approached, kneeling before me.

"Show me your leg," he requested, taking my foot in his palm and retrieving a kerchief from his pocket. With a composed demeanor, he gently wiped away the blood from my feet and skillfully tied a cloth around the wound.

"Can you even hear me? Say something, Manik," I implored.

"I am not ready to give you any answers right now. So, stop wasting your breath," he replied sternly.

It's a strange mix of emotions I have towards him—hatred and fondness. He's been the most significant person I've ever known, a genuinely good individual. Despite this, if there's a purpose behind bringing me here, should I calmly accept it or raise a fuss?

My attempts at making a fuss have led me nowhere in the weeks I've spent here. There's a strange sense of trust I've developed in Manik. Perhaps he doesn't harbor any ill intentions toward me.

"Fine. I won't ask anything, but please, stay with me," I relented, but his demeanor remained cold, his face devoid of expression. It's as if he's turned into a robot. What could have changed him so drastically during the few weeks he was away?

"Alright," he responded, his voice measured and devoid of emotion. With deliberate steps, he crossed the room and settled into a chair positioned at the corner, directly facing the round window.

Never much I thought about this room but, looking at Manik now, his cold behavior set the theme of this room. 

The room exuded an air of brooding elegance, cloaked in deep, velvety hues that swallowed the light that filtered in through the round window. The walls, painted in shades of midnight blue and charcoal, absorbed the soft glow that dared to enter, casting a muted, mysterious ambiance.

Heavy, draping curtains, crafted from rich, obsidian fabric, hung over the window, obscuring much of the natural light. The room embraced a chiaroscuro effect, with pockets of dim illumination accentuating specific areas while shrouding others in shadow.

Furniture, elegantly crafted yet with a somber undertone, was strategically placed amidst the darkness. A large, tufted sofa stood against a wall, upholstered in midnight-black fabric, a stark contrast to the room's overall dimness. A solitary, low-lit lamp on a side table cast an eerie glow, adding a hint of eerie allure to the surroundings.

In one corner, a tall, ebony bookshelf loomed, its shelves adorned with leather-bound tomes and volumes steeped in mystery. Some books bore weathered spines, suggesting age and wisdom, while others exuded an air of obscurity, their titles unread and their secrets untold.

An imposing, wrought-iron chandelier hung from the ceiling, its intricate design casting intricate, twisted shadows across the room when dimly lit. Its somber metalwork added a touch of gothic elegance, lending an air of sophistication to the darkness that enveloped the space.

The round window, framed by heavy drapes, offered a tantalizing glimpse of the outside world, albeit obscured by the room's dusky interior. It served as a mysterious portal, hinting at an enigmatic realm beyond the shadows.

This room, steeped in a dark, enigmatic allure, seemed to embrace the unknown, a sanctuary where secrets whispered in the dimness, inviting exploration and curiosity amid its moody ambiance.

I keep wondering about him every day. He seems so different, almost like he's not just a regular person. It's hard to believe, but there's something unusual about him that makes me doubt if he's entirely human.