And I taught him about the village—the best place to watch the sunset, which mangoes were the sweetest, how to tell when the rain was coming by the way the birds flew.

When I told him I was pregnant, his face transformed with joy. Pure, undiluted happiness that made me believe everything would be okay.

“I’ll go home tomorrow,” he said, holding both my hands in his. “I’ll talk to my parents, get their blessing, and come back for you. We’ll get married. We’ll raise our baby together.”

“You promise?”

“I promise. I’ll be back in three days. Four at most.”

He kissed me goodbye at the bus stop, his hand lingering on my still-flat stomach. “Take care of our baby,” he said.

I watched the bus disappear down the road, dust swirling in its wake.

That was the last time I saw him.

The Cruelty of Whispers