More than all the stars in the sky - An Addicted Prequel

Sacrifices

Virat's POV:

These days there is a persistent panic inside my head - a panic that I am not going to make it - a panic that everyone around me is right - that my Dad is right when he says that I need to accept a good job and settle down and be satisfied with it - that I need to follow the rules that everybody do which eventually rewards them with mediocrity - that I am nothing but a selfish arrogant bastard who thinks he is better than the rest.

I wake up in my bed alone. I look around restlessly - my breath was racing. God, what is happening to me these days? I never doubted myself like this ever before. I look beside me at the empty bed. Where is Manvi? I need those eyes that allay all my fears. She is like the only thing that offers me any peace of mind these days.

I get out of bed and step outside. The light was on in the living room and she was sitting in the corner, working on her canvas. God, she has been working on that since the last two weeks. I sit quietly at the kitchen counter looking at her. It's crazy how I instantly relax - watching her work always does that to me - she transforms into this whole other person when she is painting - her soft gentle gaze turns into laser sharp one. She hardly blinks and you can feel a fountain on creativity around her. The focus in her eyes is just phenomenal - it travels all the way to her long skillful fingers that hold the brush with such confidence that it leaves me utterly enthralled. Everything around her is pure perfection - the master strokes of her brush, the way she forgets the brush sometimes and uses her bare fingers blending in the colors, the way she suddenly stops and goes completely still as if waiting for something to come to her, the frown that squiggles in between her eyebrows when she is not happy with something and the more rare smile that her lips curve into when she is satisfied about a part that had turned out exactly like she wanted. It is pure passion at work and there is something so raw and sexy about it.

Sometimes it scares me that she may not even notice if we get robbed when she is at her easel. I go back inside finding a strange calm inside me. My girl always does that to me - the best part of it is that she does not even have to try.

As I step into the shower and warm water falls on my face, I close my eyes and her beautiful face does not leave my head. I keep thinking of the way she changes from a person to 'her work'. She really does - she is so completely overcome by her desire that she becomes that desire.

Sometimes, I would so love to be her. She gives a damn about the world. She just goes on a wave - she lets her heart control her. She paints because she cannot not paint. She doesn't care about what happens to her work - if people will like it - if she will be a successful artist - she does whatever she does for the pure joy of doing it. Maybe I should just focus on my work and stop thinking about what the fuck it would result in.

I walk out to my closet looking for something casual. All I have to do today is complete this paperwork at the records office. I am almost certain that I want to accept this job at an upcoming small firm. I like the work. The people are smart and innovative. Manvi is right. I should just go for it. I pull up a pair of jeans and look for a shirt. A small box rolls out from behind the stack of my shirts. I open it and see the engagement ring I got her.

I sigh - I bought it a few months back. First, I couldn't propose because of her father's death. Then, it took her a while to at least get back to normal - she just wasn't ready for it then. Now, the uncertainty of my job. I hide the box carefully within my clothes.

"What are you hiding?" I hear her sweet voice. She was standing at the door with her hands on her hips cocking her head sideways playfully.

I smile grabbing a polo sweater. "Nothing that concerns you." I reply in an equally playful voice turning towards her as she looks away shyly. Gosh, she still cannot look at my bare body.