He parked his car in the compound of a house. Coming out, dressed in a suit, his face covered with a mask, even his hands and feet in gloves, he kept glancing around nervously, clearly afraid. He went around to the back, opened the car boot, pulled out a big sack, and set it on the ground. Then he opened the backseat, grabbed his black bag, slung it over his shoulder, and quickly dragged the sack inside. He locked the door with a code before heading further in.

As soon as he entered the living room, he heard the sound of someone vomiting. Alarmed, he dropped the bag on the sofa, released the sack, and rushed straight to the bedroom.

When he got in, she wasn’t on the bed—just her blanket was spread on the floor. Panic-stricken, he banged open the toilet door and rushed in, panting from running. His eyes fell on her, bent over the sink, vomiting violently as if her guts would spill out. She clutched the sink with both hands.

He hurried over and held her shoulders, consoling her. She ignored him until she finished, then turned on the faucet to wash away the mess.

He tried to carry her to ease her movement, but she angrily shoved him, almost making him fall. He caught himself and just stared at her.

Her face was filled with anger, her eyes swollen and bloodshot from constant crying. The gown she wore was wrinkled as if dragged through dust. Her long hair was tangled like a madwoman’s. A woman once spotless was now filthy and worn, consumed by illness and sorrow.

Hot tears rolled down her cheeks, her lips cracked and parched, her body still weak.

With bitterness, she said, “Don’t you dare come close to me. I don’t want to see you, Pravin. Stay away from me—or I swear I’ll hurt myself!” He had never seen Hajjaty this angry before.

Slowly, he pulled off his mask. In the past few days, worry and fear had made him thin. Ever since he ran away with Hajjaty, he had been hiding in his guest house, which he had secretly owned for years. No one knew he had it.

“This isn’t like you. You’ve never been this angry. I don’t even recognize you anymore. Everything I’ve done is only to protect you, but you refuse to understand…”

She shot him a sharp glare. “If this isn’t me, then it’s you who has changed me, Pravin. I will never continue trusting a hypocrite. I’m tired of your lies! Tell me the truth about what happened. You separated me from the people I lived with, brought me here and locked me away! Every time I ask you, you keep quiet. What do you take me for? Just because I’ve been patient doesn’t mean I have no sense! I can endure anything—but I will not endure your deceit…”

Her words pierced him like a blade, leaving him pale and guilty.

…

[The passage continues with her confronting him about Hajiya Saratu, his excuses, their arguments about returning to the estate, and his attempt to convince her that they should flee the country rather than face the family.]