In the days after the meeting between their families, the whole village seemed to know that something had been decided—even if nothing official had been said.
When Paro passed through the lanes, the older women would smile knowingly. Some would whisper to each other behind the edges of their saris. A few even blessed her out loud, calling her "the Mukherjee bride."
Paro pretended not to hear. But in the evenings, when she sat alone by the pond, her thoughts circled around the same questions again and again. Was it really going to happen? Did Devdas want it as much as she did?
For his part, Devdas felt caught between relief and a strange, suffocating pressure.
One afternoon, he sat in the veranda with his father, trying to study. But the words on the page blurred into meaningless shapes.
"Devdas," his father said, clearing his throat, "you are nearly grown now. It's time you understood how these matters work."
Devdas looked up, uneasy.
"Our families have always been close. If there is to be an alliance, it will be good for everyone."
He said nothing.
His father studied him, his expression measured. "You don't object, do you?"
The question caught him off guard. He opened his mouth, but no answer came. He didn't know what he felt—only that the certainty everyone expected from him was nowhere to be found.
His father waited, then sighed. "Think about it. But remember—some decisions are too important to be left to hesitation."
That evening, Devdas walked to the pond alone. The sky was darkening to purple, and the first stars had begun to flicker in the east. He sat on the old stone step, elbows resting on his knees, and stared at his reflection.
He remembered the day he left for Calcutta—how Paro had stood by her gate, her eyes bright with unshed tears. He had thought he understood then how much she meant to him.
But now, when the moment came to claim her openly, he felt only confusion.
The next morning, Paro came to the Mukherjee house with a basket of mangoes. She found Devdas in the courtyard, folding a dhoti his mother had left to dry.
Their eyes met, and something shifted between them—an awareness that all the village gossip might soon be true.
Paro set down the basket carefully. "My mother sent these," she said. Her voice was steady, but her hands trembled slightly.
Devdas nodded. "Thank you."
For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Paro took a small step closer. "Are you…are you happy about this?"
The question struck at the heart of his uncertainty.
"I don't know," he admitted. "Everyone else seems sure."
She looked at him with a hurt he hadn't intended to cause. "And you?"
Devdas swallowed. "I haven't decided."
Paro turned away, her face pale. "It isn't something you should have to decide."
He felt the words like a blow. "What do you mean?"
She faced him again, her chin lifted. "If you have to think so hard about whether you want me or not…perhaps you don't want me at all."
The courtyard fell silent. The only sound was the soft rustle of the neem leaves overhead.
"Paro," he said, reaching for her arm.
She pulled back. "It's all right," she whispered. "I understand."
She picked up the empty basket and left without another word.
That evening, Paro's mother spoke to Nimai Chakraborty in hushed tones.
"I don't like how they hesitate," she murmured. "If they truly intended to make her their daughter-in-law, why such delay? Why so many questions?"
Nimai frowned. "Narayan Babu is cautious. He always weighs his decisions."
"But a girl's reputation is fragile," she insisted. "Already the neighbors talk as if the match is certain. What if he changes his mind?"
Nimai said nothing, but the worry in his eyes betrayed his own doubts.
Across the lane, Devdas sat alone on the veranda, listening to the distant sounds of evening prayers. He knew he had hurt Paro. He knew he should go to her and set things right.
But some stubborn pride—some fear he couldn't name—held him in place.
And so the night fell over the village, wrapping everything in silence.
Neither of them knew that this was the moment when something precious had begun to slip away for good.