The Unventured Passions Book-2

Love isn't a Fairytale

The morning sun had just risen, casting a warm golden glow across the small room. It was as if the light had washed away the darkness of the night before, just as the rain had washed away all doubts and apprehensions. The scent of damp earth and fresh greenery filled the air, as if nature herself was celebrating a morning before the new beginning.

The room itself was humble, with mud walls and a thatched roof. The furniture was sparse, with only a few mats and cushions scattered around the room. It was a room that had seen its fair share of struggle and hardship, but it was also a room filled with determination and hope.

Satyakirth sat cross-legged on a mat on the mud floor, his eyes fixed on Bhromor Bai. She sat before him, a middle-aged seductive woman with wavy hair and betel-stained lips. Her appearance was tired, yet there was a glint of accomplishment in her eyes that spoke of the lengths she was willing to go for her country. Manoranjan sat beside him, and then Girish Lahiri. On their left sat Mahamaya, and by the door, sat Raimoti.

"So? Did you get the pass code?"
Satyakirth asked Bhromor Bai with narrowed eyes.
The room was silent, and Bhromor smirked slyly.
"To some extent, yes," she replied. "But it was a long hassle, at the cost of everything I had." She huffed, pulling the saree from her shoulder, as everyone in the room saw a deep red bruise on her white skin. The men looked away instantly. Bhromor continued.
"Shashi is a monster from hell. But it's nothing compared to what I can do for you, and for my country."

Satyakirth smiled approvingly, as he folded his hands towards Bhromor in gratitude. But Raimoti's couldn't help but feel a sharp green pang in the heart at thebsight. Her eyes had narrowed considerably. She loved Satyakirth with all her heart and could not bear any other woman speaking to him in such a seductive manner.

But Satyakirth was beyond such petty emotions. He had a grave and determined expression on his face, for nothing mattered to him more than his pledge to free his country from the oppressive reign of the British.

Bhromor Bai continued to speak, remembering the memories of the night before, as if they were precious treasures and everyone in the room listened intently.

"He was drunk, very drunk, and I had drugged hik too," Bhromor Bai recalled. "But he said the pass code was a combination of two of his unfulfilled dreams." She paused and looked around the room. "He was repeating a name, again and again, Rai... Um... 'Rai Maati perhaps." She paused, thinking, and
the moment she said the words, everyone turned to look at Raimoti, who was seated in the room.
Satyakirth took a deep breath and asked Bhromor again, "Are you sure that's what he said?"

Bhromor Bai nodded her head and looked around in confusion. "Am I missing anything here?" she asked, and Mahamaya shook her head sideways in negation.

Bhromor continued, "Is that the name of a place? Rai Maati?" She asked reflectively, and Satyakirth stopped Mahamaya to speak up with a single nod of his eyes. Bhromor Bai exhaled sharply snd began to speak again.
"But then he kept repeating it while he... he was playing with my body." She looked away, a pain overtaking her demeanor."

"And the numbers?"
It was Girish's turn to ask, and Bhromor looked up at him and her eyes twinkled a spark of fondness.

"He told me a number too Girish Babu... I... I don't know what number that is, but it starts with 271...1... Um..."

Raimoti couldn't contain herself anymore.
"2713. That's the number of our Birmingham house." She interjected.

Everyone looked at Raimoti again, and Bhromor Bai felt confused. Her mouth fell open as if she had seen a ghost.

"And you are?" she asked, and Raimoti sighed deeply. "I'm Raimoti... Raimoti Mukherjee." Her voice was soft and melodic, like the gentle rustling of leaves in the morning breeze. "The unfortunate woman whose name you heard last night."