Chapter 5 Deep Reflection

"He abruptly ended our relationship! It occurred mere moments before we were meant to exchange vows and walk down the aisle together! Who in their right mind would do such a thing?" I wailed, releasing my anguish like a banshee against the fabric of his shirt. His hand glided down my back, and he tenderly rested his chin atop my veil, as though I were his intended bride. The entire situation felt surreal, being held so intimately by a man I had only just met, particularly after committing five years exclusively to one man-Viru.

The stranger's treatment of me, as if I were his everything, his entire world, wreaked havoc on my thoughts.

"A worthless coward who didn't deserve you," he responded with an almost reverent tone. Though I barely registered his words, I continued sobbing into his shirt, leaving mascara smudges and tear stains on the exquisite fabric. How could it feel so incredibly soft and luxurious?

Time appeared to elongate indefinitely, although it probably lasted only a few minutes. I remained there, weeping into his chest, feeling utterly forlorn and rejected. His fingers continued to trace unhurried circles over my back until, at last, I couldn't contain myself any longer.

"I still love him deeply! Why? Why did this have to happen? I yearn for him with every fiber of my being! I can't bear this agony, oh my god!" His body tensed, and his fingers ceased their motion. "Forget him, mon ange." He said quietly after a moment. I barely heard him, but when his words registered in my mind, I could only frown.

"How? I was with him for five years. It isn't that easy to just fall out of love with someone. Haven't you ever been in love before?" I asked him, looking up into his face and searching for his answer. He pursed his lips before sighing and looking away. Well then...

"What are you going to do? Go back to him zen?" He asked in a tone of annoyance. I shuddered and shook my head.

"Hell no. He's fucking my mom."

I answered honestly. Micheal froze briefly before suddenly bursting out in laughter. It caught me by surprise. How dare he laugh, it was horrible not humorous! I moved away from his embrace before his arms caught me again and he quickly stopped his laughter.

"I'm sorry, mon ange, I was just not prepared to hear zat, what a putain your mother is. Waouh!"

"What is that?" I asked him with a confused indent of my brows. He grinned down at me as he said,

"A putain? Iz a whore."

I found myself nearly smiling back then.

"Oh. Ha. Yes."

Micheal bent down and firmly grasped my hand, promptly propelling us forward in a brisk pace. I looked up at him, bewildered by his sudden actions. Just as I was about to inquire about his motives, he surprised me by speaking up.

"You could use a drink. I must confess that my evening hasn't been as satisfying as I had hoped either. But now that you're here, I think it's appropriate for both of us to share a drink. Misery finds solace in companionship, doesn't it? You can confide in me. Tonight, I'll be here to listen and support you."

"I'm not sure..." I started, my stomach churning with a mix of uncertainty and anticipation. I weighed my alternatives: either join this man for a drink or return to the Shangri-La to confront the responsible parties amidst the aftermath of a ruined ceremony. At that moment, the decision seemed remarkably simple. This night couldn't become any more disastrous, but it could certainly become more intriguing, I supposed. He halted his stride and turned to face me, compelling me to meet his gaze as I looked up at him.

"Angelina...let me help you forget him. Give me ze chance." His voice murmured into my ear as he pulled me closer to him once more. The sound of my name trailing off his tongue sent hot sparks shooting through me. I could only gaze into his dark eyes and quietly answer with a meek,

"Okay. I have nothing left to lose anyway."

"Ze beauty of having nothing left to lose is ze room to have everything to gain, mon ange."

Leading his angel away from the melancholic depths of the Seine, Micheal had a precise destination etched in his mind. It aligned with what she needed, reflecting his own desires: a tranquil place that would offer a potent beverage to alleviate the anguish brought on by the loss of individuals they both harbored complex emotions for.

There was a poetic quality to their chance encounter on this particular night. While he grappled with painful recollections of his grandfather and wrestled with a tumultuous surge of grief, she wrestled with the void left by her departed fiancé. He observed her navigating a battlefield of anguish, bitterness, and the lingering presence of her love. It was as though they had been traversing parallel paths, each on opposite sides, until by some fortuitous twist of fate, they found themselves converging in the very center. His gaze wandered down the street until it settled upon La Cantine Russe-a perfect choice. His grandfather may have severed his primary source of income, but he had not considered the other assets still within Micheal's possession, he thought with a mischievous grin. Casting a glance at her, he gestured towards the warm, golden glow emanating from the restaurant across the street. She looked back at him with a faint smile and a shrug. He noticed she was hesitantly gripping her skirts, he could only assume why. Although, walking around the streets of Paris in a wedding gown was the least uncommon sight to see.

With a smooth motion, he wrapped his arm around her waist, drawing her closer to his side as they made their way across the street. Clad in a black dress shirt and pants, an attire he had chosen for his grandfather's funeral, he couldn't help but notice how closely he resembled a dashing groom. His jacket was left behind in his car, parked a few streets away, but he surprisingly relished the unspoken image they presented.

"Do you have a preference for Russian cuisine?" he inquired, turning to face her. A curious expression played upon her lips as she responded, forming a peculiar line,

"I've never tried it before."

He chuckled, rubbing his hand along her back, greedily enjoying the luxury of feeling her bare skin beneath his fingertips.

"It's vera good." He remarked as they entered the posh establishment.

Finding a table in the corner, he slipped around her and pulled a seat out for her first, before sitting directly beside her instead of across. She glanced at him with a faint telltale blush of scarlet on her face. He liked that delicate coloring, it brought life to her saddened face. He could only dream of what she looked like when she was laughing and filled with joy. It was too exquisite to imagine without actually seeing it for himself.

A server approached their table and immediately began to speak in French.

"Good evening, how may I assist you? Ah, what a lovely pair you make! I extend my best wishes and congratulations on your union!" The young woman exclaimed with a cheerful tone, beaming from Micheal to Angelina. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Angelina visibly tense, her head slightly lowered, seemingly uncertain of how to respond or what to do. He found her adorable in that moment. Taking her hand in his, he gently placed it on the table as he continued to smile at her. While still keeping his gaze fixed on Angelina, he responded to the server's inquiry."Thank you. We are incredibly happy. Just look at my bride. Isn't she beautiful?"

He knew Angelina had no idea what he was saying, therefore he took the liberty to cover for her gown while also enjoying the thrill of pretending she was actually his.

The server laughed and nodded, he quickly ordered a bottle of wine and she left with a swish of her hair. In a matter of seconds, she returned leaving the bottle and two glasses on their table before walking away.

Angelina picked up one of the glasses as Micheal uncorked the wine himself and poured. She nearly smiled as he continued to fill her cup all the way to the top of the edge before setting the bottle down.