Chapter 4

THE BEGGAR

There was the heavy atmosphere of the remnants of a moment, the mess adding to the tension lingering in the air. Women's underwear scattered the room with a mixture of men's shirt and tie, boxers slung over the bedside.

Aria's cheeks grew hotter as she sat on the bed, her gaze blank and unfocused at the ceiling. She had sacrificed herself to another man apart from her husband and now there was no going back.The soft hiss of the bathroom water stopped short, and the man emerged, his presence filling the room. With a towel hanging loosely across his waist, his broad shoulders and thin waist were a heavenly contrast, showing muscles that were defined to perfection. Each movement was confident, and for an instant, she could do nothing but gawk.

With his irresistible smile, he leaned in closer, the one droplet of water from his chest dropping into her body, low and flirtatious his voice an unmistakable temptation dangled in the air.'Do you like What you see?' he asked, never looking away from her. He rested on the bedside, his body a perfect blend of confidence and sex appeal. 'Want to do it again?'

Aria's vision cleared and she sat up immediately. "He wants to go again? Isn't he tired from being tired? My back and headaches constitute the alcohol that I had!" She told herself.

'No more,' she said sternly.

His gaze followed her every move, as she plucked her bag from off the lamp Stand and rapidly but carefully drew out her phone and transferred with a figure of five zeroes- The agreed amount.

Having transferred, she waved her phone in the air, extremely conspicuous. 'It's done.'"

He tried to understand what is happening,trying to make the pieces of her performance fit together but he couldn't."What was that for? He asked as curiosity clouded his eyes when he looked at her.

Her nerves were protruding but she managed to cover it.up with a strand of annoyance, "I'm always generous," she stated, though she could feel her voice quivering slightly. She never found herself in such a predicament before, and she didn't want him to see that she was lost, or laugh at her.

Her digits swooshed hard on the screen of the phone as she abruptly interrupted him, before his eyes.

His brow contracted instantly, his look of shock evident on his face. "What do you mean?" he asked, his confusion growing deeper.

Taking her dress, Aria fastened it up without even a glance in his direction. "We're square now," she spoke icily, but with her heart pounding under.

"We're square now?" The man grew confused as he attempted to decipher her words. Then it struck him. It was like she had mistaken him for an entirely different individual.

When Aria was dressing up, he went to the other side of the bed, his gaze not wavering from her purse. He was curious and reached for it, rummaging inside. His fingers trailed over something cool and slick— a pink jade pendant. His heart skipped a beat.

"You don't know me?" he queried, his tone gentle now, with some sadness, incredulity and hopes, as he locked eyes on her.

The query brought about a moment of silence and embarrassment. Nevertheless, his eyes demanded an answer- something good he wished.

She nibbled on the lower lips as a grin slipped off her lips, "Is there a need for that?" She inquired without looking at him.

Their transaction. The mutual intimacy, the agreed-on payment. Words became unnecessary.

"You saved me," he whispered, his fist clenched around the pendant that rested on his chest.

Ariana lifted her eyes at that, for just a moment. A soft, laughing sound escaped her lips—

"Yes, the pendant? Want it? You can have it!

Aria narrowed an eye, half skeptical. He was probably trying to flirt—clumsily, as it happened. Another looking to ride the coattails of success, she conjectured with a silent sigh.

But then his expression changed—serious, haunted almost.

"A year ago," he announced, voice firm but low,  

" 11th April, on State Road 315. I was dying. You took me to the hospital. Did you forget?"

Her smile faltered on her lips. Her heart jumped once, jarringly, at the mention of that date—April 11. Of course, she recalled.

It wasn't but a few months ago that they'd gotten married, but on her birthday—the day he never missed observing with her throughout their courtship—her husband was nowhere to be found.

She took a walk to escape the misery of loneliness that more or less seeped in on her. She wandered aimlessly under the weak illumination that came from the street when something caught her eye—a figure slumped by an alley. Her heart skipped a beat. She approached it running and gasped. A man there, his lips twitching as he winced in agony, his bloodstained shirt as red as velvet, fear ran through her veins but instinct took charge. She did not hesitate. She flagged down a passing cab and took him to the hospital.

Besides the medium bed, Aria sat at the edge several hours later. When he finally stirred, the realization hit him. The clothes, the tattered shoes, the hollowed eyes—it all made sense. He was not a stranger at all. He was a beggar. And now she understands why he does what he does in the club… out of necessity, not choice.