💟 Silent Love~~Pert~01

Your shirt is getting wet. The rain is getting heavier. Please come inside, or you’ll catch a cold later.

Mahad looked up at the faint, trembling voice. His gaze was calm and steady. He replied softly,

“If I come inside, I’ll stand right next to you, Tari. And you won’t like that.”

Tari was startled. He always spoke to her in a teasing, indirect way—straightforwardness was not his nature. She glanced at Mahad from the corner of her eye. His face was creased with worry, countless wrinkles folding his forehead. Was something troubling him? She tried to look away but couldn’t. Then, her eyes caught sight of the battered fingers on Mahad’s hand. A surge of deep anxiety rose in her throat.

“Why are your hands so red? Have you been beaten again? Why do you keep doing this to yourself?”

Mahad glanced irritably at his left hand, then shrugged it off indifferently,

“I’ll do it again. I’ll beat myself while getting up and sitting down. I won’t listen to you.”

Tari sighed deeply. She scanned the surroundings and spoke gently,

“I’ve told you before, there can never be anything between us. So why do you waste your time following me around?”

“Because I know how to wait.”

His voice was calm, steady, and sincere—a sentence that weighed heavily on Tari’s chest, choking the breath from her lungs. Why didn’t this reckless, hot-tempered boy understand? He couldn’t love her. He never could. He had no right to. Yet, why did he keep following her?

The rain began to subside, now falling in soft, steady drops. Mahad stepped out from the shelter and looked around for a rickshaw. None were free. All had been taken by passengers well ahead. Finally, one appeared but demanded a high fare. Mahad agreed, but Tari refused adamantly. She wouldn’t ride the rickshaw at such a cost. If she were to pay that much, she would have taken one earlier. Should she just wait for the rain to stop?

Mahad gave her a sharp look, his voice firm,

“If you don’t get into the rickshaw, I’ll put you on my bike. No arguments.”

Reluctantly, Tari had to take the rickshaw home. Mahad stayed by her side, following behind on his bike. She noticed the feverish state he was in—his face flushed deep red, his eyes dull and tired. He couldn’t tolerate even the rainwater on him.

---The large two-story house belonged to Tari’s uncle. She had come to Dhaka a month ago for higher studies. Since there was no seat available in the dormitory, she stayed here.

No sooner had she removed her shoes and stepped inside than Saleha hurried toward her, anxious,

“How did you get so soaked, Apa? You’ll catch a cold! Go change your clothes quickly. I’m bringing some soup.”

Tari smiled faintly. Weary, she moved toward the stairs,

“No need to be so busy, Saleha. I’m fine. Where is everyone? I don’t see anyone.”

Saleha paid no attention to her words, busy rushing to the kitchen. Probably, she didn’t even hear the question.

Tari’s room was at the far corner of the second floor. To the left was a large library. Her uncle’s younger son loved reading so much that he had combined two small rooms to make the library.

“Why are you coming into my library soaked like that? Who gave you permission?”

The serious, hesitant male voice startled Tari. She shivered slightly. She had only been closing the library door. When she looked up, she saw Pranoy—her uncle’s younger son. She had seen him a handful of times but never spoken.

Pranoy said again,

“Why aren’t you saying anything? Why did you try to come in?”

Tari lowered her head and muttered,

“I wasn’t trying to go inside. My hand accidentally touched the door, and it opened. So I was just closing it.”

Before she could finish, Pranoy, suspicious, interrupted,

“As far as I know, this place isn’t that small. A truck could easily get through. With so much space, how did you end up by the door?”

Tari’s head hung lower; her chin touched her chest. What could she say? She had barely avoided stumbling and had grabbed the door to steady herself. It had just opened. Could she tell the truth? Would anyone believe it? Had she known even a small touch on a door would cause all this, she would never have looked that way.

Pranoy grew more serious,

“Don’t let me see you in the library again wearing wet clothes. Go change.”

Tari felt relieved but then softly asked,

“Has uncle gone anywhere? I don’t see anyone.”

“They’ve gone shopping. They’ll be back soon.”

He paused, observing her closely.

“You got caught in the unseasonal rain. There’s a hundred percent chance you’ll get sick. You probably don’t have a first-aid box in your room. I’m sending some medicine with Saleha. Take it.”

Pranoy found Tari a little strange. She had been curt with him just moments ago, and now she was receiving such care.

Tari didn’t think much of it. She changed clothes and wrapped herself in a blanket. How cold it was! Meanwhile, Saleha arrived with warm soup she had prepared. Concerned, she asked,

“Are you feeling worse, Apa?”

Tari sipped the soup and replied,

“Ah, it’s nothing. I’ve been soaked in the rain many times back home. Today is just a bad day. I’ll be fine soon.”

Saleha remained worried and urged,

“Drink the soup and swallow the medicine with your eyes closed. Pranoy Bhaijan gave it. He’s a doctor! You’ll get better quickly. I hate seeing you like this.”

Tari only smiled in response. As she took another spoonful, her phone vibrated. Mahad was calling. She glanced at it sideways but didn’t answer. She flipped the phone over. Saleha frowned deeply,

“Why aren’t you picking up? You know how annoyed I get if someone doesn’t answer my call! The one who called you will be upset too, right? Answer it.”

Tari felt she should know how Mahad was doing. She put down her soup and took the phone. When she answered, Mahad’s weak, hoarse voice came through,

“Why don’t you love me, Tari?”

Tari remained silent. That question, in his feverish haze, was all he could ask.

---To be continued...

💟 Silent Love

⛔ Prologue