Her back almost healed. Only few marks, after the deepest wounds, were visible now. As was the pink line of a new flesh on her wrist. He hated that scar. Not because it would detract from her beauty, but it was a constant reminder of how easily he could have lost her forever. The lazy days have returned. They would spend days by reading together, she would sing to him and play games to distract him, she would sit silently and listen to him talk. As if he had passed some invisible obstacle, he now felt free to talk about his home and childhood, which used to bring him so much pain, but now as if the water of memories cleared up, he could see the sparks of happiness that there once was. Not even Paro's name hurt anymore. He often wondered what has become of her. And if he'd ever see her again. But then the night came and he was lost yet again in Chandramukhi's embrace. Their nights were rarely not filled with sights and longing anymore, as if they were making up for the lost time. She would be the one to rule sometimes, but mostly it was his raw and even violent passion that would win, although slowly and eagerly he was learning - what made her weak in the knees, what made her moan, that even the most beautiful moment can be ruined by an elbow pushing into her shoulders. He was discovering more about her as a person as well. Only now he was realizing how little he knew about her apart from the fact she loved him. During the night she knew no shame. She was proud of her beauty and demanded total adoration. But as soon as the sun rays started to pour in through the windows, she became almost shy. He asked what was the matter the first time she slapped away his hand gently when he tried to slip it under the covers, in desire to feast his eyes upon her in broad daylight. "Because some things are just not done," was her answer. Bewildered and amused he reminded her about their nightly activities, only to get a simple "It's dark in the night" in reply. Was she indeed shying away, or was she just taunting him? He couldn't really tell.
The only shadow on their happiness now was that Chandramukhi couldn't even leave the house. Nobody from the outside knew she was there and still in hiding, knowing all too well Kali Babu would seize the first opportunity to drag her out should he find out. She never complained. That was not her habit. But he could tell she was irritated by being closed inside all the time. Or was there another reason why she seemed so restless at times? At first he tried to reason with himself, convince himself he was wrong, but finally it became too apparent. Chandramukhi had changed. Suddenly there was no middle ground with her. Either she was devotedly following his every step and passionately reacting to every single touch, word or look, or she would avoid him, her eyes fixated to the floor, only smiling mildly to his questions. And then in the night she would turn either into a Queen of lust, taking his breath away, or into a vulnerable creature clinging to him with all her might, uncharacteristically needy as he made love to her, and she would cry afterwards, making him feel guilty like the most sadistic bastard in the world. But when he asked if she was troubled, if he could do anything, she would just shake her head silently.
.......
"I will move you to the country," Chuni Babu told to him after a month. "In a few days, in quiet. There you will both have enough of privacy. And here everyone will gradually forget."
"No. I have money," said Devdas. "We can't live off of you anymore. I already cannot ever repay you for what you are doing. I will find some house and buy it myself."
"Stop annoying me, Deva," Chuni Babu growled. "If I don't take care of my little brother, who will? I am not doing you any favour."
Devdas was touched and hugged his friend. Indeed, Chuni Babu had taken him for his own family a long time ago. He was the only person from his old world who never turned his back on him.
"I will not stay too long, Chuni Babu," he warned him after letting go.
"And what will you do?"
Devdas looked into the distance thoughtfully.
"I've been thinking. There is only one place I can go and leave every burden behind. Yes, I think nothing can reach me there, and if so, it cannot hurt me. I will go there. Soon. I just need to sort some things out."
"Will you not tell me?"
"Not yet," he shook his head. "But soon."
"Alright. Do as you wish. But really. For now take Chandramukhi and go to the country. She needs a change. She will recover there more quickly."
"I'm not sure about that. The doctor is here. There we will be looking for one with difficulty."
"I'm not talking about the wounds you can see, Deva. I am happy she is well again, but surely you must agree that loosing a child wounded her deeply. And that too in this house - where she is forced to live now! Just take her away."
.........
What? He didn't hear right for sure. He was making things up. Yes, that had to be it. He did not give Chuni Babu any reply and slowly made his way upstairs. His legs seemed incredibly heavy and only with great difficulty he managed to take several steps. Because he knew now, he knew the dark secret behind Chandramukhi's changed behaviour, he was finally shown that strange, hidden pain of her eyes. He suddenly understood everything - her need to be alone, her need to be with him, her need to be cared for and her need to be independent. She lost a child. His child. Their child. How did that happen? They only were together once, during that storm that had ravaged her sleep, and he then ravaged her body. He realized he was standing in front of their room. She was singing softly, in one of her more joyful mood. She smiled at him as he entered, then returned to her hand work. She was sewing. Still saying nothing, he sat down beside her on the floor, watching her for a while.
..............
"Chandramukhi," he said simply. "Chandramukhi, why haven't you told me?"
"Tell you what?" she laughed. If he didn't know better, he wouldn't even notice anything was wrong.
"That Kali Babu hurt you. So much that you lost our child?"
She fell silent and stiff all of a sudden, refusing to look him in the eye.
"Did you think I would be mad at you?" he urged her gently. It was strange. He did not feel the pain over that child. But as if some connection between him and this woman stopped working. Something died. And she suffered. Those were the things he wanted to weep for.
"No," she said finally, getting up and away from him. She stopped at the door and without giving him a single glance added: "I thought you didn't need to trouble yourself about it. After all, I didn't know about it myself, until the doctor told me. It's as if it was never there. Why should we talk about it then?"
With that she left the room. He didn't see her all day after that. He knew she didn't want to face him, and frankly somehow he didn't feel like it either. Only when darkness came, the merciful darkness that hides and covers all, did he go to her. Feeling save in his arms, she finally managed to cry freely, her tears flowing away the pain and making way to a complete recovery.
