Love Me, Mikayla

VII

BARAK

. . .

"Tomorrow is your engagement with Mikayla Uriel, the girl you hate to the core. She burns your entire existence but you're ready to let her be your wife."

Through the narrow ways of my eyes that find no interest in the sight before me, I dart my attention to Arad. His arm raises leisurely as to hold the white stick between his fingers and let the gray smoke be released through his mouth. The ashy odor is sick.

"Strange, isn't it?"

"Love is not only blind..."

"It's dumb, deaf and crazy, too."

Humorless laughter spills throughout the silent cabin of mine, caged by the glass walls.

"But here, it's hatred, right?"

"What runs through his mind, I wonder."

"You better not know," I finally chip in, lowering my eyelids to the screen of my phone that burns my eyes.

I scroll down, having nothing else to do and her picture pops in. The one that was sent to me when I was in America. My heart hushes to the soul of mine about her beauty.

"Why? Is it dark or funny?"

"No, it's madness. Dawood's madness. Don't blame him for he himself is trying to know."

Asaf talks to stand by my side, I know that. His words always catch my attention, being so out of the world yet so impressive.

Gentleness is poured on my lips. I shut down my phone and put it on the table.

"Can you talk about something else?" I want them to shut their mouths about it, simple. I don't know what is so interesting about this.

"No, we want you to change your decision—"

"Why would he deny Mikayla? She's an extraordinary beauty!"

"So she finally charmed him, yeah?"

"Aww, Barak Dawood is under spell; his enemy's spell."

I don't say anything. Just listen to them. It's stupidity to even say anything to drunkards. Remaining those who don't drink, like me, have left hours ago. Why would they even wait? It's already past midnight.

"Under a witch's spell," Arad grumbles in his outdated jealousy as if correcting the other while crushing the head of his cigarette and taking a sip of wine. "Aren't you?" He arches his brow at me.

"You say anything," I shake my head, "Outer appearance may fascinate my eyes but my heart reacts to what my Lord wills."

"Then why her? Why would you ruin your life?"

"Having a beautiful wife like Mikayla in one's embrace is a ruin of life? Explain, Mr Silvanus?"

I pick up the lid of my pen and shoot it right between his eyebrows. So hard and sharp that he groans.

Rufus laughs, collapsing on the floor. The wine spills over the tiled floor of my cabin while Rufus is rolling beside it. I hope he doesn't get hurt because of the shards of the glass.

"What was that for?" Rosh, who got the reward for his over-slipping tongue, asks, caressing his forehead which has turned pink now.

"Am I not aware of your dirty mind?" Confusion masks his face. "Go to sleep, you're tired." He obeys, going towards the couch and embracing the small pillow.

"You hurt him badly." Arad scratches his brow, his lips curling up in a very subtle smirk. And none of us is sympathizing with Rosh.

"He'll forget everything by the morning," I remind Arad, "And I couldn't remain mum, listening to him talking nonsense."