22: It takes two to tango

Khana woke up tied in the middle of a crowd cursing her, calling names. She wanted to scream for help, but her mouth was trampled with a piece of clothing. She was confused. The last thing she remembered was falling asleep next to the man she admired. 

What's all the fuss? 

Why is she tied like a witch in the witch craze? 

She can't help but keep a lot of questions in her head. 

"May you rot in hell!" says the crowd while throwing eggs and cabbage at her. Suddenly, Richard stands out from the crowd. 

Richard was holding a stick with blazing fire. He glared at her and mouthed, "You and him shall burn to death."

It was at that moment she realized a black fabric next to her. The crowd removed it and a man with blood all over his face appeared.

"Henry!" Khana screamed in horror. She frantically moved, wanting to escape from being tied. 

Suddenly, the long sturdy stick where she was hanging had lost its footing to the ground. She looked down, her heart pounding in her chest as she realized how high up she was. Fear gripped her tightly, but she forced herself to stay calm, focusing on her breath. The lady could tell her head would bleed to death the moment it hit the ground.

Panic consumed her as she plummeted towards the ground below. Time seemed to slow down, every moment stretched into eternity. She could almost feel the wind rushing past her, and hear the blood pounding in her ears.

As she fell, a sharp pain shot through her head, and she could feel warm wetness spreading across her scalp. The ground rushed closer and closer, and she knew with chilling certainty that her head would split open upon impact. Her vision blurred, darkness closing in around her.

Just before she hit the ground, Khana jolted awake, gasping for air. Sweat soaked her skin, and her heart continued to race as she realized she was safe in her bed. She reached up to touch her head, half-expecting to feel the sticky warmth of blood, but there was nothing.

Relief flooded through her, mingled with lingering fear from the vivid dream. Khana sat up, her breath still coming in ragged bursts. It felt so real, so terrifyingly real. She closed her eyes, trying to calm her racing thoughts.

Her eyes blinked against the morning light filtering through the curtains. On the sofa bed, Henry, the priest, is peaceful in sleep.

"I have a terrible dream. It must be my fault. Maybe, I'll be doomed in hell because of what we've done," she murmured.

 She couldn't help but smile faintly, brushing a kiss on his forehead before quietly slipping out of bed. As she gathered her clothes and made her way to the bathroom, her mind was anything but calm.

The events of last night played over in her thoughts like a tumultuous storm. 

What if she became pregnant? Would Henry choose her and their potential child over his devotion to the church? 

Guilt and worry gnawed at her heart. She felt wholly responsible for the sinful act they had committed, yet she couldn't shake the unfairness of carrying all the blame when they had both willingly indulged.

She is guilty of the sin they shared last night. And, she is worried to death about what Henry might say or do as soon as he wakes up and realizes what they did last night. Yet, she scolded herself for taking all the guilt and sin, when in fact it takes two to tango. Why would she take all the blame, when Henry also enjoyed last night? She shook her head and shrugged off her overthinking

After her shower, Khana dressed and mechanically began preparing breakfast, trying to distract herself from the whirlwind of emotions. When she returned to the living room, Henry was already awake, silently praying. She watched him, wondering what he sought in that moment of devotion. Forgiveness, perhaps, for their transgressions.

When Henry finished his prayers and looked at her, his expression inscrutable, Khana's stomach twisted with apprehension. "I prepared breakfast," she managed to say, her voice sounding strained even to her own ears. 

"Take a bite before you leave."

Henry stood and approached her without a word, his silence more unsettling than any angry outburst. Khana instinctively took a step back, only to find herself cornered against the wall.

 Fear tightened her chest as Henry spoke, accusing her of seduction and shifting the blame onto her.

"I made a mistake. I know I did a terrible deed, " Khana protested, her voice quivering. "But why are you suddenly so angry? We both—"

Henry's hand struck the wall beside her with a loud thud, cutting her off. "Love alone won't solve this," he insisted, his eyes dark with conflict. "I can't bear to see you suffer for our sins."

Tears welled in Khana's eyes. "I just want us to be together," she pleaded. "Why can't you choose me?"

The tension between them was palpable, a reflection of the impossible predicament they found themselves in. Henry's commitment to his faith clashed violently with Khana's yearning for a love unfettered by religious obligations.

Their standoff was interrupted by the sudden ring of the doorbell, shattering the fragile peace between them. Khana’s heart raced as the doorbell echoed through the house. She and Henry stood frozen, their tense conversation interrupted by the unexpected sound. With a sinking feeling, Khana’s mind raced through possibilities. 

Khana's heart skipped a beat. Who could it be? Richard, with his spare key, could easily let himself in.

Henry's expression turned grim as they exchanged anxious glances. They couldn't risk letting anyone discover their clandestine affair. Khana's mind raced, a surge of panic overwhelming her.

"Should we answer it?" Khana whispered, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her heart.

Henry hesitated, his jaw clenched. "We can't afford to draw attention," he replied, his tone urgent. "It's too risky."

As the doorbell rang again, their options dwindled. Khana's mind whirled with fear and uncertainty. If it was Richard, how would they explain their presence here together?

"We have to do something," Khana urged, voice trembling. "What if it's Richard?"