Several months had passed. Many changes had come into Laboni's life.
One afternoon, under the pale, fading light of dusk, Laboni stood at a bus stop. She was dressed in a simple salwar kameez, a book in one hand, the other resting gently on her belly. Laboni was pregnant now. There was a strange serenity on her face—a soft glow of motherhood—as if after surviving countless storms, she had finally reached the shore of a quiet sea.
She was deeply absorbed in her book when a black, expensive, gleaming car slowly pulled up in front of her. As the window rolled down, Laboni froze.
Inside the car sat Henry.
Today, Henry was not wearing his prison uniform. Instead, he had on a white shirt. His face looked calmer, cleaner than before. He no longer resembled the terrifying prison superintendent she once knew.
Henry stepped out of the car. His eyes fell on Laboni's swollen belly, and for a brief moment, a mix of astonishment and respect flickered across his face. Standing at a slight distance, he spoke in a low voice,
"How are you, Laboni? It's been a long time."
Laboni clutched the book tightly against her chest and took a small step back. Was the old fear returning? But when she met Henry's eyes, she stopped. There was no trace of that demonic lust anymore—only a deep sense of guilt.
Henry took out a small velvet box from his pocket and placed it on the hood of the car.
"Don't be afraid," he said. "I didn't come to trouble you. I resigned from the prison. I run my own business now. These past months, I've spent time with my daughter… and thinking about you. Your last words changed my life."
Pointing toward the box, he added,
"This is a small gift for your unborn child. I know I don't deserve forgiveness. But I don't want the shadow of my sins to fall on this child."
In a faint voice, Laboni asked,
"Why have you come here, Mr. Henry?"
With a pale smile, Henry replied as he got back into the car,
"I just wanted to see if you were doing well. You're about to become a mother—the most sacred role in the world. Take care, Laboni."
He started the car and drove away.
Laboni stood there, staring at the road in disbelief. She realized then—it was not hatred, but her compassion and mercy that had softened even a hardened heart. She placed her hand on her belly, feeling the gentle pulse of a new life.
Yet Henry, after starting the car, couldn't settle his mind. An unease crept into his chest. Suddenly, he slammed the brakes, parked by the side of the road, and hurried back to Laboni.
This time, the calm in his eyes was gone—replaced by sharp anxiety. He stepped very close, looked straight into her eyes, and asked gravely,
"Laboni, tell me the truth. I tried to leave, but my heart wouldn't let me. Whose child is this? Be honest… is it mine?"
Laboni startled. Her heart pounded. She clutched the book tighter as tears shimmered at the corners of her eyes. She lowered her head without answering.
Henry gently held her hand—not with cruelty, but with desperate pleading.
"Don't stay silent," he said. "Since that dark night, I've lived in hell every day. I know I wronged you. But if this child is mine, I want to take responsibility with everything I have. I don't want this child to know prison walls—I want to show them the light of the world. Tell me, Laboni… is this my child?"
Laboni let out a long breath and looked up at the sky. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she spoke softly,
"Whether this child is yours or not is not the most important thing, Mr. Henry. What matters is that this child belongs to a mother whom you once tried to destroy piece by piece. Do you really want your sin to take form in this world? Or do you want to change—for your daughter Sara?"
She paused, then looked directly into his eyes.
"Yes. Your suspicion is correct. This is your blood. But I don't want this child to ever know who their father was. I want to raise them with my own identity."
Henry stood frozen. Tears streamed down his face. He realized he was not just a criminal—he was facing a truth that could neither be forgiven nor denied.
After hearing Laboni's words, Henry felt like stone. People passed by on the road, but his entire world stood still. Looking at her tear-soaked face, he said firmly yet broken,
"Laboni… I'm not forcing you. But I want to marry you."
Laboni was completely unprepared for this. She stared at him in disbelief. Henry stepped closer and continued,
"I know I brought destruction into your life. But that night killed one man inside me and gave birth to another. I can't sleep at night. I don't want my child to grow up without an identity. I want to spend the rest of my life serving you and this child."
He knelt before her—the way a man kneels when seeking atonement.
"I won't keep you like a queen. I'll live as your servant. Hate me, hit me—I won't complain. Just give me the right to place my hand on my child's head. I'm trying to win Sara back. I want to build a family free of darkness."
Laboni stood there, overwhelmed. The horrors of that night clashed with the cry of a helpless father. She said softly,
"Is marriage really that simple, Mr. Henry? Do you think a marriage contract can erase my wounds? Can you look into my eyes every day knowing I truly hate you?"
Lowering his head, Henry replied,
"I know it's hard. But I'll be patient. I deserve your hatred. But our unborn child is innocent. For their sake, give me one chance. I am no longer the man I was. I just want to be a father."
A bus pulled up at the stop. Laboni looked at the bus, then at Henry. A violent storm raged inside her. Was forgiveness even possible? Or would this marriage entangle her life further?
She took a deep breath.
"Nothing heals so quickly, Mr. Henry. But… I'll think about it. I need time."
But Henry couldn't bear to let her out of his sight even for a moment. Seeing her fragile state and the harshness of the road, he pleaded stubbornly yet humbly,
"In this condition, traveling alone by bus isn't safe. Please trust me—at least for today. Let me take you home, or anywhere you feel safe. I can't let you suffer like this on the road."
Laboni stared into his eyes in silence. There was no lust there now—only longing. The thought of her unborn child softened her heart.
"Alright," she said quietly.
Henry felt as though heaven had been placed in his hands. He rushed to open the back door. Laboni carefully got into the car. Sitting in the driver's seat, Henry glanced at her through the mirror. It felt as if someone had gently eased a fraction of the burden of his sins.
The car began to move. Henry drove carefully, ensuring Laboni's comfort.
In a soft voice, he asked,
"How is Rehan? Is his treatment going well?"
Looking out the window, Laboni replied,
"He's better than before. But he still hasn't recovered from that night's trauma. If he knew I got into your car, he might never forgive me."
Henry tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He realized his trial was not just with Laboni—but with her entire family. Silently, he vowed that with patience and devotion, he would try to heal every wound in her heart.