What if angels lived among us — not as saints, but as exhausted souls with KPIs, field reports, and just enough magic left to save one life at a time?
Alex has been an angel for over 5,000 years. He works quietly in the background — nudging, guiding, protecting. No glory. No miracles. Just small interventions that keep humanity from slipping too far into the dark.
When he's assigned to Maya, a young woman teetering on the edge of self-destruction, something changes. She’s not just another soul on a file. She’s a mirror — raw, aching, human. And Alex finds himself crossing boundaries that were never meant to be crossed.
All while the angelic bureaucracy watches.
And the world beneath their wings begins to shift.
Joined by Seraphine, a million-year-old angel with a past she rarely speaks of and a love she’s never fully let go, Alex must decide: obey the rules and lose the one soul that matters — or risk everything for a single human life.
Review of: Wings in Disguise: Angels Don't Do Overtime
Author: Radu Niculescu
Rating: 5 Stars
What a lovely read! Although the length made it more of a longish short story (even brief for a novella), I'm so glad I purchased "Wings in Disguise" by Radu Niculescu. As someone who's always believed in the existence of angels and divine intervention, I could literally imagine an Alex and a Seraphine 'breaking the rules' to save or turn around someone's life. The author's prose was beautifully eloquent. One example: "...something ancient rippled through the air—time bent, and stars listened". The world building was impressive as well, especially considering the length of this book. It, for me, was a master class in writing. My only objection came at the very end, where the author suggested there'd be a political edge to the promised continuation of the story. The whole concept was lovely and compelling, and I'd be sad to see it mirror the divisiveness of the current political climate. Still, "Wings in Disguise" earned a 5-star rating and a high recommendation from this reader.
PROLOGUE
Angels Don’t Do Overtime
Alex woke up to the sound of rain whispering against the window, a familiar rhythm he’d grown to love in this city. Gray light spilled across the sheets, tangled with the scent of strong coffee, old books, and something faintly celestial — like the aftermath of lightning or the first breath after a dream.
Next to him, Seraphine was already awake.
She sat at the edge of the bed, bare back glowing faintly in the morning haze, smoking a cigarette with the kind of practiced stillness only a million years could teach. Her wings were gone now — folded back into the nothingness between dimensions — but the shimmer of them still lingered in the air. A glint at the corner of the eye. A memory you could never prove.
"You're staring," she said without turning, voice smoky, dry like desert wind.
Alex stretched, muscles aching in that good, post-divine way. “Hard not to. You age well for someone born before the Ice Age.”
She smirked. “Flatter me again and I’ll put you on compliance duty all week.”
That made him groan. Nothing worse than filling celestial evaluation forms. KPIs. Reports. Earth might not have noticed, but Heaven had gone corporate a long time ago.
He sat up, reaching for his shirt, noticing the faint outline of feathers still tattooed across his chest. Last night had been intense. They always were, with Seraphine. When angels made love, something ancient rippled through the air — time bent, and stars listened. But come morning, it was back to pretending they were just two regular people in a world that didn't believe in wings anymore.
