Endgame | ✓

7. The Art Of Manipulation.

~ VIRAT ~

7. The Art Of Manipulation.

IF ONE ASKS ME, what was the most life-altering sequence that ever happened in my life a month ago, you would've a short and simple answer: Nikita. Her words when I was seventeen-which made me fall in love with her.

But if one asks me right now, what is the most life-altering sequence that ever happened in my life, you'll have to brace yourself for an extremely long answer.

And if I was to condense it into something so it would be easier like my previous answer, it would be Anushka Sharma.

Two words. Thirteen letters. Two hazel eyes. Enticing smile. Soft touch. Playful banters. Past lives. Honest confessions. Broken hearts. Strained heartbeats.

She wasn't like Nikita; smooth latte, but a bittersweet shot of espresso. We weren't part of a perfect tale of queasy-knees love story, but we were comrates cavorting and sometimes sharing things which we might not share with anyone else. Anushka wasn't flawless, but that was the beauty inside her. She was imperfectly perfect. Honestly, Anushka made me rebellious, she made me realize that life wasn't worth breathing without a bit of chaos, a bit of rebellion.

And currently, she was uncoiling herself. In front of me. I was seeing her break, I was seeing her heart break. The shadows of the sarcastic, humorous girl ricocheting in the corners of a dark alley. She was now submissive, shattering without any warning.

It was fast-steadily approaching monsoon winds. The moonlight which fell daintily on the lake previously was disappearing, as the fat rolls of clouds ambled by-covering the moon.

"We were supposed to camp today. And we are getting all sentimental." Anushka broke the silence, giving me a goofy expression.

"I know," I muttered, rolling my eyes. Stop thinking about her, Virat. We were laughing together until Anushka brought her hand to her face and slapped it. Before I could make a remark on her actions, she started scratching her hands, leaving me more confused.

"What happened?" I queried, looking at her arms which were all red by now.

"Mosquitoes," Anushka complained with a pout. "I don't even have a mosquito repellant. What am I going to do? Let them suck all my precious blood!?" she sniffled dramatically, and I rolled my eyes. I pondered over, before an idea struck me.

"Do you have a paper?" I asked, arching a brow at her. Anushka looked confused but dug into her bag to find some tissue papers.

I took out my lighter and burnt them, thus resulting into paper converting to ash. Once the paper was thoroughly combusted, I applied the ash on Anushka's skin. At first, Anushka was hesitant about her getting touched so intimately. "What are you doing, Virat?" she asked me, her eyebrows knitted in confusion.

"Ash helps in getting rid of mosquitoes and all other insects," I told her, applying it against her shoulders which were bare because of the sleeveless jumpsuit she wore. My stomach exploded with warm, fuzzy feelings of all sorts as soon as my hands made contact with her. This was something inexplicable because I had no idea what exactly it was. Probably rulebooks of intimacy and attraction couldn't explain it either what I felt for Anushka. Or why I was always concerned for her.

"Thank you so much. You always make me feel better," Anushka told me, her eyes focusing on mine. Our faces were too close, just a little lean and our lips might just touch each others. "But why? Why do you've to do this? Why do you've to say things which makes me fa-"

She stopped mid-sentence, getting away from me.

I arched a brow at her, "Makes you what?" I ask, scepticism etched in my thick-voice.