my Cruel Love.
(Last night, thunder rumbled outside as Arman stayed by the side of a burning, feverish Maya — torn between memories of the past and the reality before him.
Now, morning brings new tension: one woman, one man, and a forgotten history.
The truth is creeping dangerously close.)
Arman: "Alright, ma'am. Please go get some rest. You've already done so much for us."
The Woman: "Oh, my son, what trouble? If we can't help someone in need, then what's the point of being human? Don't worry — your wife will get better, God willing. We'll be in the next room. Call if you need anything, okay?"
With that, the kind woman gently closed the door behind her. Arman remained by Maya's side, sitting quietly, dabbing her forehead with a damp cloth under the soft glow of an old kerosene lantern.
He thought to himself:
What is it about this girl's face that pulls me in? Why can't I look away?
Could she be my little Maisha? That would be perfect.
No. What am I thinking? Why would Maya be Maisha?
Am I. getting attached? No, that can't happen. I only love my little Mayaboti. The faint image of her still haunts me. Those soulful eyes. they won't leave me.
As soon as he remembered those eyes, another pair flashed in his mind, startling him.
Those eyes. they're so similar.
How did I not notice before? Maya and Mayaboti share the same eyes, even their faces are alike. But the nameplate clearly read 'Maisha Talukdar', and this girl is Maya. But wait. Talukdar. the same last name.
No. I have to know more about her. One way or another, I will find my Mayaboti.
Arman's heart desperately hoped Maya was his long-lost Mayaboti. Slowly, his naïve heart began to believe it.
But fate doesn't always follow our hopes.
Just then, Maya stirred. Lost in a feverish haze, she murmured:
Maya (whispering): "Dad.. Dad..."
Arman snapped back to reality.
Arman: "Maya! Can you hear me?"
She didn't respond. Fever still burning, her lips trembled as she tried again.
Maya (weakly): "Da... Dad... I... I'm hungry... Please... feed, me, Dad..."
Caught in a childhood memory, fever dragging her deep.
The woman had left food and medicine on a small stool nearby. Hearing her plea, Arman brought the stool closer, propped a pillow behind her back, but she was too weak and kept slipping. So he leaned against the wall and gently pulled her into his arms, letting her rest against his chest.
He took a piece of flatbread, dipped it in curry, and brought it to her lips. Still in a trance, Maya opened her mouth and ate.
He fed her half the bread, then gave her a paracetamol tablet.
After taking the medicine, Maya nestled deeper into his chest, arms wrapped around him, slipping into a peaceful sleep.
She had no idea the man she clung to as "dad" was actually her ex-husband — Arman.
Arman sat frozen, his heartbeat loud in his ears.
The room was silent except for a cold breeze drifting through the small window, brushing their skin.
Maya's body radiated warmth against Arman's chest. The lantern's golden light bathed the room in a soft, almost sacred glow.
In that light, Maya looked even more serene — innocent.
Arman stared, mesmerized.
Her damp hair spread across his chest.
Slowly, he reached out, brushing her hair back with the gentlest touch — like picking a morning flower covered in dew, careful not to bruise a single petal.
Morning…
Maya slowly woke, feeling tightly wrapped and suffocated.
She opened her eyes to find herself in someone's arms.
Blinking sleepily, she lifted her head and saw.
Arman's face.
Still half-asleep, she absentmindedly reached out and brushed his stubbled cheek.
That light touch woke Arman.
His eyes opened, and the first thing he saw was Maya's swollen, flushed, angelic face.
He hadn't even noticed when he fell asleep staring at her the night before.
Their eyes met, and Maya jolted awake.
She pulled away and sat up, shocked.
Maya: "You?! What is this? How did we end up like this? Did you. do something to me?!"
Her voice was too loud.
Arman quickly sat up, placing a hand over her mouth and holding her hands with the other.
Arman (firm, low): "Don't shout. Calm down. Fix your clothes first — then I'll explain."
He closed his eyes, avoiding her gaze.
Maya looked down — and gasped.
Her petticoat was still on, but her saree drape had slipped off, leaving only the blouse.
She tried to free herself, muffling sounds.
Arman: "What happened?"
Maya gestured at her hands. Realizing, Arman immediately let go.
Arman: "Sorry."
She quickly pulled the saree drape back and covered herself, then tried pushing him away.
But he gently caught her hands again.
Arman (softly): "Please, Maya. Listen. I'll take my hand off your mouth, but don't scream. Look around — we're in someone else's home. Please."
Maya finally looked around.
Yes, a small, unfamiliar mud-walled room.
She froze, silent and shaken.
To be continued…