3. Marriage Proposal

Hasna was being transported to a new prison in a car with two female officers and one male officer. As she stared out the window at the passing streets, a wave of regret washed over her. She had taken her freedom for granted, never appreciating the simple ability to move around as she pleased. Now, with her freedom stripped away, she realized just how blessed she had been. Despite facing execution, she felt an unexpected sense of gratitude for the few extra days she had been granted. She was thankful to witness the streets, the people, and the sky—even if only through the small car window. Gratitude filled her heart, mingling with the fear of what lay ahead.

Suddenly, the police jeep came to a halt. At first, Hasna thought nothing of it, assuming it was just a minor car issue. But moments later, one of the female officers instructed her to step out of the vehicle. As she obeyed, she noticed another car waiting nearby with three strangers inside. Unease crept into her as she realized the officers weren't getting out with her. Sensing her confusion, one of the officers explained, "These individuals will be taking you to the new prison."

Hasna's heart raced, but she remained silent, wary of what might happen if she questioned the situation too much. The strangers seemed impassive, their faces unreadable as they motioned for her to get into the car.

As the vehicle started moving, Hasna's eyes stayed glued to the streets, trying to memorize the route. An hour passed, and she began to feel increasingly uneasy. Something wasn't right. "This isn't the road to Chittagong. Where are you taking me?" she demanded, her voice betraying her rising panic.

The woman seated next to her turned around, her expression calm, almost too calm. "Don't worry," she said smoothly. "We're taking a detour. We have some paperwork to finish in another city before we head to the new prison."

But Hasna wasn't convinced. Her gut told her something was terribly wrong. She tried to stay calm, but the fear was gnawing at her, making her feel trapped and helpless. The uncertainty was unbearable. Where were they really taking her? And what would happen to her once they got there?

Suddenly, panic overtook her. Without thinking, she lunged for the door, trying to escape. But the female officer beside her reacted swiftly, grabbing Hasna's arm in a vice-like grip. "Let me go!" Hasna screeched, thrashing in a desperate attempt to break free. Then she felt a sharp sting in her neck. Her hand instinctively flew to the spot, but her vision was already blurring. The last thing she heard before darkness swallowed her was the officer's cold voice: "Don't worry. She won't be causing any more trouble."

When Hasna woke up, she found herself in a small, exquisitely decorated room with a plush bed and a soft comforter. The room was cozy, with a gentle breeze wafting through the open window. For a brief moment, she felt relief, allowing herself to enjoy the pleasant surroundings. But then the memories rushed back, and panic set in again.

She jumped off the bed and ran to the door, only to find it locked. Frantically, she rushed to the window, hoping for a way out, but was met with a breathtaking view of the sparkling sea. The waves crashed onto the shore below, mocking her with their freedom.

Hasna's heart pounded as the realization hit her—she was being held captive in this idyllic location. But why? And by whom? A thousand questions raced through her mind as she desperately searched the room for any means of escape.

Fear gripped her as dark thoughts flooded her mind. Was she here for some nefarious purpose? She screamed, "Why have you brought me here?" Her voice echoed through the room, but no answer came. She screamed again, "Why have you brought me here? I want to go back to prison! I want to go back!"

Silence. The only response was the mocking crash of the waves outside.

She tried to calm herself, breathing deeply as she surveyed the room again. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe there was a reason she was brought here. But what?

In the corner of the room, she noticed a small table with food and water. Her stomach growled, reminding her how hungry she was. She approached the table cautiously, her hands trembling as she picked up the food. It tasted good, almost too good, and as she ate, a small sense of normalcy returned, albeit briefly. The food was delicious, and the water was refreshing, but the locked door and unanswered questions lingered in her mind, casting a shadow over everything.

After finishing her meal, Hasna tried the door again, pulling on the handle with all her strength. It wouldn't budge. She felt trapped, a prisoner in a gilded cage. Defeated, she sat on the bed, her mind churning with thoughts of escape and the unknown motives of her captors.

Time passed slowly, each second feeling like an eternity. Restless, she began pacing the room, inspecting every inch for clues. That's when she noticed a small piece of paper on the floor. She picked it up, her heart pounding as she read the message: "Don't worry, you are safe here. We will explain everything soon."

A small wave of relief washed over her, but it was quickly drowned by a flood of questions. Safe? How could she be safe when she had no idea where she was or who had brought her here? She sat down again, clutching the note, waiting anxiously for the promised explanation.

Later, as the day wore on, Hasna found herself praying, seeking solace in her faith. Tears streamed down her face as she prostrated, her heart heavy with fear and confusion. She poured out her anguish to Allah, begging for guidance and strength. When she finished her prayer, she sat on the bed, a strange calm settling over her.

Looking out the window, she saw the vast expanse of the sea, the moon shining brightly in the night sky, and the stars twinkling like distant hopes. The beauty of the scene captivated her, momentarily taking her mind off her predicament. She lost herself in the view, imagining for just a moment that she was free, that all of this was a dream.

But then the door creaked open, pulling her back to reality.

Hasna sat alone in the dimly lit room, her mind heavy with the weight of uncertainty. She had no idea what was coming next, and the not knowing gnawed at her, making each passing minute feel like an eternity.

The door creaked open again, and an old woman stepped into the room. Hasna's eyes widened in alarm, and she instinctively backed away, pressing herself against the farthest wall.

"Don't be afraid," the old woman said softly, extending her hand. In it was a phone. "Take this."

Hasna hesitated, confusion and fear swirling within her as she accepted the phone. Before she could even unlock it, a voice spoke from the other end—an anonymous caller.

"Marry me," the voice said, the words landing like a punch in Hasna's gut.

Her eyes widened in shock. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Who was this person? Why were they offering her marriage? And why on earth would anyone want to marry a convicted murderer?

"Who are you?" Hasna asked, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and disbelief.

"I'm just a man who has been watching you," the voice replied, calm and measured. "I know everything about you, and I want to give you a chance at a new life."

Hasna was speechless, her mind reeling. The idea of marrying a stranger—someone she had never even seen—was absurd. And yet, the desperation in her heart made her consider it, even if just for a moment. A new beginning, away from all this? The thought was tempting, but could she trust this mysterious stranger?

"I know you're confused, but you don't have anything to lose," the caller continued. "I can help you start over, away from all of this. Away from everything that's happened to you."

Hasna's heart raced, her mind a whirlwind of fear, hope, and suspicion. Trapped in a room with a phone and an anonymous voice offering her a way out, it seemed like an impossible decision. Yet, at this point, any chance at life, no matter how slim, was worth considering.

"But why?" she asked, her voice cautious, her guard still up. "Who in their right mind would ever marry a convicted murderer? Do you know I'm a murder convict? Two days ago, I was about to be executed. I'm still a murder convict! They were supposed to take me to a new jail, but instead, they brought me here."

The voice on the other end fell silent for a few moments, as if weighing her words. "So, you really did kill those men," he said finally.

Hasna nodded, though he couldn't see her. "Yes."

"Why?" he pressed, his tone curious rather than judgmental.

"I did it for money," Hasna admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Do you regret your actions?"

"Yes, I do," she replied, the weight of her guilt pressing down on her.

"Do you want to help the victims' families?" the voice asked, his tone softening.

"Definitely," she said, without hesitation.

There was a pause, and then the stranger made an unexpected proposal. "If you marry me, I will give each of the victims' families one lakh takas."

Hasna's eyes widened in surprise, but almost immediately, she shook her head. "I don't need your money," she said firmly. "I've saved some money from selling baskets in jail, and I'll give it to them myself."

Her suspicions deepened. She feared that he might have ulterior motives, that perhaps he wanted to marry her only to harm her later, maybe even to claim some kind of insurance money. Dark scenarios played out in her mind as she considered the possibilities.

Sensing her hesitation, the voice on the other end spoke again, his tone reassuring. "I understand you may not trust me, but I'm sincere in my offer. I want to help the victims' families, and I want to help you, too. I know it sounds strange, but I've been following your case closely, and I believe in your innocence. I want to give you a chance to start over and make things right."

Hasna felt a lump in her throat, her emotions swirling in a confusing mix of fear, hope, and skepticism. "I don't understand," she said, her voice trembling. "Why would you do this for me? What do you want in return?"

The stranger took a deep breath before answering, "A lot. I want a lot from you. But most importantly, I want to be your protector and provider. I can stop your execution. I'll ensure the victims' families are compensated. And I will give you a place to call home. Now, Hasna, will you marry me? Let me remind you, you don't have many options. But if you choose me, I will be your husband, your guardian, Inshallah."

Hasna was stunned into silence. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision. For some reason, the tears kept coming, even though she wasn't sure why.

"Yes," she finally whispered, her voice breaking. She wasn't entirely sure what she was agreeing to, but in that moment, it felt like the only lifeline she had left.