The Dangerous Lover

(Dark Romance - Part 3)

Since the day he recovered, Shrabon’s only companion has been cigarettes.

The same Shrabon who once wouldn’t even touch a cigarette, now doesn’t even know how many he smokes a day. Sometimes, he even passes out drunk.

And the root of it all—Bristi’s betrayal.

9:00 AM.

Bristi regains consciousness in an unfamiliar room. Her head is spinning badly. She sits up, holding her head, and looks around.

It’s a large room. The walls are lined with numerous photographs—all of Bristi, some even with Shrabon.

Shocked and confused, Bristi stares at them and thinks to herself:

“When did I take these photos? And how is he in them with me? Was he telling the truth? Am I really his wife? If so, why don’t I remember anything?”

Lost in these thoughts, Bristi suddenly hears the door open—Shrabon enters the room, holding a glass of lemon juice, walking straight toward her.

As soon as she sees him, flashes of their wedding night come to her mind. She quickly adjusts her sitting posture, scooting away.

Shrabon sits beside her and hands over the glass.

"Here sweetheart, drink this. It’ll make you feel better."

"I—I want to go home. Why did you bring me here? Please, I want to go home," Bristi says anxiously.

Shrabon’s face tightens with anger, but he masks it with a crooked smile.

"This is your home, Bristi. Our home. This is our room. You’re exactly where you belong."

"I’m not Bristi! My name is Neela. Why did you kidnap me? I want to go back to Neel. Please, let me go. I don’t know you! I don’t know you!"

Screaming, Bristi throws the glass of juice to the floor.

Shrabon’s anger explodes. Grabbing her hair tightly, he growls through gritted teeth:

"Do what I say, or I’ll forget that you’ve lost your memory. Don’t awaken the dangerous lover inside me, Bristi. That won’t be good for you."

Releasing her hair, Shrabon walks to the door and says:

"Your clothes are in the wardrobe. Get freshened up and come downstairs. I don’t want to see you in those clothes again. And don’t defy me—you have no idea what I’m capable of."

Shrabon leaves, and Bristi bursts into tears.

“How did things end up like this?” she thinks. “I was supposed to marry Neel…”

Bristi didn’t exactly love Neel, but she didn’t dislike him either. And his mother had loved Bristi like her own daughter. Because of that affection, Bristi hadn’t been able to say no to marrying him.

Now she’s in a stranger’s house with no memory and only confusion.

She walks to the wardrobe, opens it, and finds a collection of clothes—all in her exact size. Surprised, she takes out a light blue gown and heads to the bathroom. After freshening up, she puts it on and stands in front of the mirror, drying her hair, thinking:

"Could I really be Bristi? Could I actually be his wife? Then why don’t I remember anything? And why didn’t he look for me all this time?"

A sharp headache interrupts her thoughts.

Just then, someone hugs her from behind.

Startled, Bristi jerks away like she got an electric shock. Turning around, she sees Shrabon.

He’s staring at her from head to toe with piercing eyes. Uncomfortable, Bristi says:

"Please… I don’t know if I’m your wife or not. But please don’t come near me. I love Neel. He’s the one I want to marry—"

Before she can finish, Shrabon slaps her hard.

The force throws her to the floor. She holds her cheek, tears streaming down her face as she looks up at him.

Shrabon rushes over, grabs her hair, brings his face close and hisses:

"Say another man’s name again, and I’ll cut out your tongue. You’re only mine. You were never with anyone else, and you never will be."

In pain, Bristi places her hand on his to stop him.

Shrabon lets go and cups her face gently.

"I’m sorry, love. I got too angry. Did it hurt a lot? I didn’t mean to. Please don’t cry—I can’t stand your tears."

He kisses her forehead and cheeks tenderly.

Bristi is stunned at the sudden change in behavior.

“How can someone switch emotions like this? One moment he’s violent, the next he’s gentle…?”

She’s terrified. Desperately, she says,

"I—I’m hungry. Please let me go eat something."

Without a word, Shrabon smiles and picks her up in his arms.

"What are you doing?! Please put me down! I can walk on my own."

"Shhh. No more talking. You’re coming with me, sweetheart."

Bristi doesn’t dare say another word. He carries her downstairs and sets her on a chair at the dining table. He serves her food, mixes it with his hands, and holds it up to her mouth.

"Open up, Bristi."

"I can eat on my own. You don’t need to feed me."

"No, didn’t I tell you? No backtalk. From now on, you’ll eat from my hands only."

"But I have hands too. Why would I—"

"Too much talking. I don’t like it at all. Now open your mouth and eat."

Frightened by his tone, Bristi says nothing and starts eating quietly.

Oddly, something about him feels… familiar.

It feels like she’s heard this voice, this tone, before.

She wonders, “Could I have really loved this man once? Could he be telling the truth?”

So lost in thought, she doesn’t realize how much she’s eaten.

Shrabon teases with a devilish smile,

"Wow, has your memory loss also increased your appetite? You never used to eat this much. Or is it because I’m feeding you?"

Surprised, Bristi looks at the empty plate and asks,

"I ate all this? When did that happen?"

"Are you getting memory loss every few minutes, sweetheart? Or was the food just too tasty? Eat this much and you’ll get fat. But I don’t mind. Only thing is, I won’t be able to carry you around anymore."

Annoyed, Bristi controls her temper and asks curiously,

"You said we were married. That I’m your wife. Then why didn’t you look for me all this time?"

Shrabon’s smile fades.

His voice softens.

"Someone very close to me betrayed me, Bristi. Took advantage of my trust. That’s why I couldn’t look for you."

"Who was it? And why did they do it? Didn’t you punish them?"

"I couldn’t. Because she was my soul. My life. Hurting her would’ve meant hurting myself."

"You loved her so much… then why did she betray you?"

"That’s the answer I still don’t have, Bristi. But I will. Very soon. I just need your memory to return."

"What does my memory have to do with you getting your answers?" Bristi asks, confused.

"You won’t understand now. Finish eating and go rest upstairs. I’ll join you soon—we have things to talk about."

Without arguing, Bristi goes back upstairs.

Strangely, she doesn’t want to disobey him.

Shrabon feels oddly familiar. Very close.

She walks onto the balcony. It’s large, with flower pots and a swing.

She sits on the swing, notices a guitar nearby, and picks it up, examining it.

Everything feels so familiar. This place, these things, this man.

But her memory won’t return.

The pressure of trying to remember becomes too much—her headache intensifies, and eventually..

To be continued…