Questions

Questions-racing through her brain even as her heart told her otherwise. Questions about the man standing in front of her, the person she was beginning to discover, man she was beginning to fall in love with. Why did he obstinately refuse to tell her what he did as a living, why did he disappear at odd times of the day, why did he have so much money? And why had he chosen her.

When they were together, he was funny and a patient listener as she told him all about her life. Growing up in England, moving to Paris and staying there for her profession. He listened as she raved and ranted about the hospitals, the doctors, the patients, the sickness and disease. He sometimes even spoke about his own childhood in England, in a quiet countryside where he lived with his grandparents or of chaotic London where he lived as a student. He talked about travelling-about visiting Spain, Italy and Greece. They discussed ideas, life, philosophy and religion. But despite the familiarity, she was always haunted by her unanswered questions. Who was this man?

One thing she knew for sure that despite his qualities, he was no saint. She had seen him kill. They were in a street in Paris one beautiful moonlit night when they were stopped by a man asking for money. She quietly opened her purse to rummage for some change so she never saw the other men converge. But he did and he knew this was no ordinary begger. Within seconds, there was another man with a knife right behind them who asked them to give in all their money and their valuables.She was ready to comply and she begged him to also. Reluctantly he agreed and lay down all their valuables in a pile in front of them as they instructed. The men were almost about to take the loot and take off when one of them had an idea. "Why not take the woman as well? This man will be no match for our knives. " They came back and started making a move towards her and although he understood no french, he knew that they had a different valuable in mind. One that he was not ready to part with. He moved in protectively in front of her as the two men drew their knives and begun to fight. She had never seen him move so fast or fight so ruthlessly. At the end of two minutes, one was already on the floor trying to fight Tom while the other tried to attack him from behind. But she would not be a silent spectator. She grabbed the closest heaviest object she could find and attacked the assailant on his head from behind. The man dropped like a sack of potatoes. Tom, on the other hand, had managed to wrestle the knife away from his attacker. And within minutes, his attacker lay quiet on the cold hard street. The other man was still alive but Tom was not one to leave unfinished business."Don't kill him, Tom. Please," she begged.
"Look away, Mila if you don't have the stomach for it but I cannot let this man live, " and he plunged the knife in his heart in a brief silent strike.
"We need to leave. Now," he commanded. And she turned away to leave so she never saw him methodically wiping the knife of all fingerprints and throwing it in the gutters. The waters carried away the blood. And the guilt.