"He will be gone tommorow morning;'
she said.
"He will send the carriage back for you later."
"Will he?"
"Yes."
"Why should I trust him?"
"He never does anything that doesn't benefit him. And keeping you here holds no benefit. He will send it back."
"Then?"
"What?"
"What happens then?"
She lowered her eyes but never hesitated: "Then you can go to Paro."
"Do you want me to go?"
"I want you to be happy.?
She tried to slip from the room, as it became her habit in the past weeks. To escape his anger, to avoid his disdain, to hide her tears. As if he didn't know. He was sick of walking on the egg-shells. He was sick of the suffocating silence and invisible wall between them. He was sick of her quiet resignation and sick of himself for driving her into it. Life has left his existence, yet he wanted to live again.
He stopped her from leaving the room, her wrist felt ever so delicate and small in his grasp, so unusually gentle. He didn't want to cause her any more pain. Never. And he loathed his old self for putting her through so much. As he trapped her between himself and a painted wall, against which he put his palms, he became aware of the scent of her hair, still dampened by an early morning bath. Jasmine.
I love you. The simplicity of that feeling was intoxicating. Much like the depth of her eyes as she looked at him, uncertain of what to expect.
"Do you want me to go?" he asked again. He needed an answer. Everything depended on it.
"I told you."
"No, you did not."
"You... you love her," she managed to say.
"Do you want me to go?"
"She needs you.?"
"Do you want me to go?'
"This is a chance for both of you to be happy!"
"Do you want me to go?"
"Everything you wanted.."
"Enough. Enough!" he hissed, fighting the
impatience and frustration, that came so naturally to him. I love you. How can I make you understand?
"Do you love me, Chandramukhi?"
Her smile was sad and beautiful. She recognized the question even before he realized. He had asked her this before.
"You could as well ask if I breathe."
His lips brushed over her brow. He could feel how
tense she was.
"Do you trust me?"
No answer. She was unwilling to hurt him, but unable to lie. In the silence that followed he could here a cheerful sound of an untiring fountain in the other room. Sun was setting outside, painting ornaments on the wall with its pink and golden fingers. This place could be paradise.
"Will you marry me."
He was not prepared for the sheer agony in her eyes. At first she thought she didn't hear him properly, but when he made no attempt to correct himself, she realized her ears were not deceiving her.
"Why are you doing this to me?"
It was his turn to have no answer. He felt helpless and unable to explain. Intuitively he knew telling her he loved her would not be trusted. He had no way with words. If only he had Chuni Babu's wit and quick thinking! Hesitantly, gently he brought one of his hands to her waist. It was not his intention, but his fingers managed to accidentally slip under the hem of her blouse. She took that as a signal. And misunderstood.
She pushed him away. Before he could say anything she reached behind and pulled on the strings of her blouse. The clothing started falling off her shoulders, when he stopped it from going any lower by grabbing her upper arms tenderly.
"There was a time when I could swear you understood everything that was going on in my head and heart," he said quietly. "Perhaps...no.... certainly it was my own foolishness that destroyed that. But I beg you now. Just one last time try to see into me." He planted a butterfly kiss on her collarbone and covered her shoulders. Then he stepped away. Feeling her skin under his palms was distracting him. He couldn't allow himself to fail now.
"I don't know you anymore," she whispered. "Nothing makes any sense in what you do. You have me or you love me. Or you love Paro and are desperate. You want to destroy me and humiliate me - and now you ask me to marry you. Why? I don't understand. And I... I can't take this anymore."
Her hands covered her face as she slid down the wall, exhausted, tired
and wanting nothing but to fall asleep. To sleep and to dream, and never wake up. She loved him. How could she not? But ever since he came into his house she no longer felt it her blessing. Perhaps because for a short while she allowed herself to dream further, for a little while she dared to call him her own, that now it was just not enough to love and only get hatred in return. And with each insult, each nasty word, that before she would just ignore, she was now loosing her will to live.
She more felt than heard he kneeling beside her. He took one of her hands and pressed it to his chest, right at the place where she could feel steady beating of his heart.
"Whatever you want me to say, I will. I am ready to swear on anything you ask. But I am begging you to spare a little trust on my account one last time. Will you, Chandramukhi? I love you. Only you. There is no one, nobody in here but you." With those last words he pressed a bit more her palm on his heart. "Nobody. And the one you are so concerned about, she has left it a long time ago. I was just too stupid to understand. When she appeared in front of me after such a long time, I felt as if I have betrayed her. And because my first betrayal led us all into this horrible abbys, I panicked. I did not dare to betray her again, when I saw her so desperate and in need of affection. But now I see that I don't really care. All I care about is you. All I need is you. All I want is you. But what do you want, Chandramukhi? Nobody has ever asked you that before, not even me. But I ask you now, and trust me: what you want is what will happen."
Tears were streaming without a sound down her face. He waited for a moment, then leaned a bit closer.
"Do you want me to go?"
"No." It was more of a sob than a word.
"Can you ever forgive me?"
"Yes."
"Do you trust me?"
A little hesitation.
"Yes."
His heart was already light and spreading its wings. Just that one last question.
"Will you marry me?"
"No."
