When I returned home, drenched in the rain and limping due to pain in my leg, I saw Niloy getting out of a car at the gate. He looked at me with surprised eyes, but I ignored his gaze and made my way upstairs with difficulty. Maybe he was still looking at me from behind, but I didn't turn back even once.
The next few days were tough, struggling with the pain in my leg. The unexpected rain had also left me with a feverish feeling, so I didn't step outside at all. Aunty came to check on me as usual, chatted for a while, and then left.
A few days later, one evening, she suddenly rushed into my room and asked,
**"How are you feeling now, Protyasha?"**
**"I'm fine, Aunty."**
**"Listen, tonight you're coming to our place for dinner. Niloy's friends have come over, and I'll be cooking a little something for them. You should come too."**
Since that rainy day, I hadn't seen Niloy. Even though I felt a silent pain inside, I was trying to endure it. Wanting to avoid Aunty, I replied,
**"No, Aunty, I'm not feeling too well. Please leave me out of this."**
But Aunty was relentless. She wouldn't take no for an answer. After insisting multiple times, she left. I decided that I would pretend to be asleep and avoid Niloy at all costs.
But that wasn't possible. Aunty dragged me along forcefully.
Three of Niloy's male friends and two female friends had come from Dhaka. When we sat at the table to eat, everyone greeted me with a casual "hi" or "hello." That's when I took a good look at the two girls. They were so beautifully dressed, their hair neatly rebonded and cut to shoulder length. Their nails were polished to match their outfits. Their dressing sense was impressive! But the most striking thing was their way of speaking - it was so polished and articulate.
I could never be like them. Growing up in a small town, my speech had a regional accent. I could never speak in such a refined, bookish way.
I noticed that *she* wasn't among them. Maybe Niloy hadn't introduced her to his friends because she was his girlfriend.
Suddenly, I don't know what came over me - tears started falling like raindrops from my eyes. The food on my plate remained untouched. I couldn't swallow even a single bite. Niloy was too busy with his friends to notice me.
When I got up to wash my hands, Aunty asked in surprise,
**"What's this, Protyasha? You barely ate anything!"**
**"I wasn't feeling well, Aunty."**
Seeing my tear-streaked face, Aunty asked in a startled voice,
**"What happened to you?"**
I forced a smile and said, **"Nothing, Aunty. I'm just not feeling well. I'll go home."**
Niloy looked up and asked his mother,
**"Is there a problem?"**
Aunty replied in a sad tone,
**"Look at her, she couldn't eat because she's not feeling well."**
Niloy glanced at me. For a few seconds, our eyes met. He looked at me deeply, and that moment was indescribable. I walked past him as normally as I could.
As I reached the door, I heard the lively chatter at the table resume as if nothing had happened.
Back in my room, lying on my bed, I kept thinking - why am I such a fool? My life and Niloy's life are worlds apart.
For me, happiness means holding a plate of *fuchka*, savoring the tangy tamarind sauce, and closing my eyes in satisfaction. But for Niloy, it's different. His world is different, his way of seeing life is different, and so is his idea of happiness.
My biggest mistake was falling in love with Niloy.
---
Days went by. Occasionally, I'd run into Niloy - on the stairs, on the streets. But we barely even made eye contact, let alone exchanged words. Besides, with exams approaching, I was trying to focus on studying.
I was never particularly serious about academics, but now that I was making an effort, my mother and brother were quite surprised. Keeping myself busy was the only way to feel okay.
One evening, I went to my math coaching class. I forgot to bring an umbrella, so I got stuck in the rain. My brother had gone to Dhaka for work, so I had no choice but to wait for the rain to stop. My mother kept calling, worried sick.
After a while, I saw Niloy arriving in a rickshaw. Even though he had taken a rickshaw, he was drenched. He got down and said,
**"Uncle sent me to pick you up. Let's go quickly."**
Without arguing, I got into the rickshaw. There was no point in being stubborn.
The last time we sat in a rickshaw together, I had deliberately leaned close to him just to tease him. But today, I kept my distance on purpose.
Because of this, the rain was splashing onto me.
Niloy said, **"Sit a little closer, or you'll get completely soaked."**
I didn't respond or move closer. Since the rain was easing up, Niloy didn't insist.
After a while, he spoke again,
**"Protyasha, I know you're mad at me. And honestly, you have every right to be. But my problem is, I'm not easily angered - but when I do get mad, I completely lose control. So, I'm extremely sorry for what I said that day."**
I said nothing.
The rickshaw moved forward in the dark, under a cloudy sky with drizzling rain.
Suddenly, Niloy told the rickshaw puller, **"Stop here, please."**
He got down, paid the fare, and told the rickshaw puller,
**"Make sure she gets home safely."**
I wanted to say something - but I couldn't.
That night, Niloy had walked home in the rain. Later, I heard from my mother that he had been severely ill for the next few days. But not once did I go to see him.
I was stuck in a strange place - unable to look at him, yet unable to live without him.
The only way to escape this pain was to go far away.
My parents had wanted me to get married for a long time, but I had always refused.
But now, I agreed. My parents were surprised but also happy. I only had one condition - that nothing would be arranged until after my exams.
My father and mother agreed. My brother objected a little, but they convinced him.
The *Kathgolap* (frangipani) tree on the balcony was still there. I had already decided - before leaving, I would give it to Niloy and tell him:
*"This tree was the beginning of our story, so let it be the end as well."*