Marriage is a gamble, let's be honest. — Yoko Ono

( Unedited )

Angelik POV

Clamping my teeth together, I flung the coverlet off me.

I grumbled under my breath as I pulled myself up and swung my legs out of bed.

I narrowed my eyes at him and spoke in the same condescending tone.

"Of course, your highness. I apologize. I forgot it's one of the perks of being married to a king!" I gritted out. "Serve the king of assholes!" I supplied, eyes turning into slits.

He sneered as he pushed himself away from the doorframe, his hand holding his coat dropped to his side. The hem of his expensive pinstripe tweed coat touched the floor.

He made his way to me.

No. To put it right, he lurched forward.

A sudden fast forward step, swaying and almost tripping over his coat, he dragged with him.

A pang of sympathy washed over me, and then he opened his mouth.

With a wide, irritating smirk, he slurred. "That's my wife!" He grinned boyishly, so innocently, my heart clenched at its sight.

He halted, and he staggered. His hands proffered outward, trying to stay on his feet and not drop on his face-first on the floor.

He reminded me of Jack Sparrow on the Cruis of the Caribbean.

I want to laugh, cry in frustration, and at the same time, strangle him to death.

But he's intoxicated, and I'm not a cruel person.

I tamped down the urge to leave him here and tend to himself. Instead, I helped him get to my bed since it's the closest. Rather than drag him out of my room and down to his bedroom.

He dropped his body on my bed, grinning like a fool, and it annoyed me to no end.

I sighed.

He looked at me thoughtfully. Then he grinned again, so innocently, he seemed pretty amused.

Then, his eyes closed, and he's out, snoring softly.

I shook my head as I decided to help him out of his clothes from yesterday.

I struggled to pull his shirt off him after undoing all the buttons. He stirred and rolled to his side, which helped me pull the first sleeve off, then I pushed him, moving him to the other side, and he groaned softly. He rolled again to the other side, mumbling incoherent words.

I yanked the shirt off him. I pulled his pants off next and left only his undergarment.

Seeing his bulging organ, I glared at it like I had lost my mind.

Why would I ever think of blaming the innocent organ?

I sighed, pulled the covers up, and tucked the drunk under the blanket.

I grabbed his coat and wrinkled my nose when I smelled the whiskey that clung to the fabric.

I threw his coat in the hamper in my washroom. I didn't care that it was supposed to be dry cleaned. And Max usually collected all his dry-cleaned clothing in his dry cleaning hamper.

After washing my face and rinsing my mouth, I decided to make breakfast. My gaze briefly ran over the small alarm machine on my right side table as I walked towards the door.

My eyes fleetingly glanced over him on my way out, and my jaws clamped tighter.

I might have been wrong in believing he was astute.

Well, he can have himself. I may love him, but I'm not the martyr kind. He can fuck himself for all I care.

It hurts.

It hurts a lot.

I furiously wiped the tears that had somehow escaped my eyes.

For my twenty-eight years of existence, I can count it that I'd cried with my fingers. And that's when I was a kid when I wanted something and only tears the solution.

I shut my eyes tight as I held on to the handrail, my nails absentmindedly digging onto the wood as I tried to chase Max Away from my mind.

He had been residing in my head since the other night and had kept me awake late last night.

Don't think about him. Please don't waste your tears and time on him! He doesn't deserve it, and I deserve better. I chanted in my head.

Mom's words of wisdom rang in my ears.

"The main concern of every man is their ego. Nothing is more important to them than that."

When I got downstairs, I headed straight to the kitchen. A few yawns escaped my lips, and I grumbled under my breath.

My head started to pound.

I made my breakfast, moving like a robot. I've been making egg sandwiches all my life since I moved here, and even if my mind is wandering elsewhere, my hands seem like a robot, synchronized with the recipe.

I decided to call Elle.

I can't call Iya again. She's on a honeymoon.

I should have taken a leave and flown to Russia and attended my best friend's wedding. I might have avoided this sham of a marriage.

There's no point fussing over it. It's done, Angel.

"Hello," came Elle's sweet voice over the line.

I smiled.

Suddenly, my cloudy vision cleared up.

"Hey, hey!" I said with a forced cheerful tone.

"What's up, Angel?" she giggled. "You got nothing to do?" she teased, and I smiled.

"You got it right! I can't bug Iya. She's on her honeymoon. Might as well find out what are you doing?" I asked, chuckling.

I turned off the stove, took a plate, and popped the toast from the toaster. I assembled my breakfast sandwich with my free hand while listening to Elle.

I realized I was jealous of what she had. A stinging realization struck me in the chest.

And I thought, would I have that kind of life?

With Max?

I quickly erased the unwelcomed thought out of my head.

I chuckled.

It's always I do.

Veiling the ached in my heart with smiles or laughter.

"...sleep whenever you want." She sighed.

I laughed.

She was complaining about sleep deprivation.

I laughed, not because I found her story funny, but because she had no clue that I'd not sleep better since my family had caught us. And perhaps I will never have a good sleep until that douche Max apologizes to me, and we can think about what to do with our current position.

"Hey!"

Elle's sharp tone broke into my thoughts.

"You're so quiet, Angel. It's so unlike you. Is everything alright?" Elle probed. Worry tinged her tender tone.

"No, no." I quickly replied in a reassuring tone.

I didn't want to convey yet about our predicament. Elle already has a lot of things in her mind.

I'll tell her, but not today.

"How is Nico?" I asked.

"He's been a good husband," Elle gushed.

I smiled. I'm so happy for her and Iya.

They ended up with the men they loved.

"There were times when his overprotectiveness was irritating, but I can't blame him. It all stemmed from what happened to me before we married," Elle explained, and I smiled.

"Lucky you, bitch!" I laughed, and Elle burst into a peal of laughter.

"Your still our sweetest friend," Elle sarcastically quipped in a playful tone, and I laughed.

"Someone has to be," I rolled my eyes playfully, my tone light and jesting.

"Always the practical, Angel," Elle chuckled.

I smiled.

"That I am," I laughed.

"You got everything except the laugh lines. It's all I could give," I laughed, and Elle's laughter was louder than ever. 

The time flew by fast, and soon, I was preparing to go to work.

Max was still sprawled on my bed, softly snoring, and the bed looked smaller with him lying on it.

He seemed so innocent in his sleep.

My eyes surveyed his face, and I sighed.

He's like one of Michael Angelo's sculptures brought to life. A well-defined jaws, dimpled stubborn chin, aquiline nose, thick dark brows, and a pair of hypnotizing blue eyes.

And his good looks matched with a body that befitted a highlander and not a surgeon. He can rival Henry Cavill's ripped body.

He looked devastatingly hot, and I hadn't met someone that surpassed him.

I could look at his chest all day.

My eyes unconsciously darted to the time.

It's half-past one.

"Shit!" I hastily scurried to my drawers and pulled out a pair of pink scrubs.

I dashed out of the house with my big purse hoisted on my shoulder—one hand rummaging through the bag, looking for my car key.

I grumbled.

Finally, I found it. And soon, I was racing with the other drivers on the road to the hospital.

I'm late.

Fortunately, the traffic wasn't as bad, and as soon as I swiped my card, the long hand pointed at six.

I started at two-thirty.

My friend at work, Lisa, was approaching my direction in the hallway, hands in her floral patterned scrub's pockets.

A wide smile broke on her thin lips.

Lisa is a blonde, short woman, a little rounded on the side but has the face of an angel.

She's forty-one and married, with two kids. 

Her cheery and positive attitude drew me to her company. It was the reason why we clicked, and we became closer.

We worked together too in the operating room.

"You look rather hopeless," Lisa laughed as soon as she was close.

She stopped a few paces away.

I laughed.

"I rushed here, so imagine what I've gone through," I rolled my eyes.

She laughed.

Lisa chuckled. "Mr. Greystone's surgery this afternoon. We should head to the operating room. I believe Ben is there," Lisa rambled on, and I nodded.

I know Mr. Greystone's heart bypass is today. And I realized it was supposed to be Max performing the surgery.

Shit!

And we need to prepare the surgical tools and make sure the checklist gets completed, which will then get rechecked during a timeout by the captain surgeon.

Before touching the sterile surgical tools, we had to don the proper uniform; an operating gown and a glove.

The team helped each other to gown up each one, to keep everything sterile.

Waves of laughter and soft clickings of the surgical tools soon filled the four walls of the operating room as the exchanging of banters kept going on.

Suddenly, Mrs. Heimdel, our nurse leader of our team, a 60 years old tall and willowy lady, spoke.

"Just to remind everyone that Doctor Monroe's gonna perform the surgery." A loud groan of disappointment was the response.

While I stiffened, drifting my eyes at the checklist written on the bulletin board.

I know no one suspects our intimate relationship and Max, and I'm feeling silly right now.

"What happened to Doctor Demakis?"

Everyone loves Max. He's easygoing in the operating room.

Doctor Hendrick Monroe hated loud noises when performing the surgery, except for his lullaby music.

And I groaned inwardly. It's going to be a long day for me.

"He's exhausted, I heard," Mrs. Heimdel replied briefly.

"Well, he did four surgeries yesterday," Ben supplied, and everyone agreed.

"This is the first time," one commented.

My mind wandered again. The conversations just passed through my ears, not registering.

"There's always a first time," one remarked.

Soon, the patient was in the room and the Cardiac operative team.

After the timeout process, the operation started, so Doctor Monroe's music.

The operation took less than six hours, performed by two cardiac surgeons with the Cardiac operative team. Doctor Monroe lead the surgeries.

He's like the captain of the boat. And on the ship, we have nurses in scrubs (Mrs. Heimdel and I), including the circulating nurses (Lisa), Anesthesiologist. Ben left for his break.

Soon, another patient was scheduled next with Aortic stenosis. It took an hour.

I got home before eleven at night, and I was ready to hit the bed.

Max was in the living room, on his lounging pants and shirt, laptop on his lap.

Our eyes met as soon as I walked into the living, dropping my purse on the entryway table.

He was facing the entryway.

I rolled my eyes as I headed straight to the kitchen. The sleep miraculously left my system. My heartbeat picked up speed by the second.

"Did you eat?" I heard him ask behind me.

I stopped halfway to the kitchen. I turned, and Max was approaching me.

His face held no emotion, so I thought about what might be running in his head.

He stopped in front of me, and his eyes perused my face, making my heart cavort at the close sight. I could see the zit turning darker as it dried out.

"I made dinner. You looked..." he paused. His eyes held mine.

I sucked in my breath, forgetting everything that happened in the twenty-four hours.

"Exhausted," I supplied.

"No," he murmured.

His thumb touched my under-eye. Suddenly, I felt unconscious under his scrutiny.

I didn't have time to conceal my dark eyebags before leaving for work.

I sighed.

"You didn't get much sleep?" he asked in a soft, perhaps a little tender?

I stared at him intently.

Was he going to apologize?

"Go get a shower, and let us have dinner," he suddenly said before turning on his back, and I gaped at him.

What's happening?

.......