Summary: Since there wasn't any section for Sold in the books archives I decided to share my story here in the miscellaneous section. It's an extra chapter, with Lakshmi seeing the hugging man again, set after the chapter Still Not Counting.

How I Saw The Hugging Man Again

The hugging man came to see me today.

It was when we had to use the electric suns because the real one was gone.

I was walking through the house, when I saw him enter the archway. Our eyes locked together and I saw him blushing. I think I was blushing too.

Mumtaz strolled in, scowling at me.

"Don't just stand there," she barked, "take this man to your room!"

She turned to the hugging, who had looked shocked when she yelled at me, and I saw her crocodile teeth pull into an attempt at a cordial smile, "I'm sorry. You must pardon her rudeness. She isn't very bright. You can have one of the other girls if you'd likle."

"No," he told her, looking at me, "I want her."

My heart lit up. I thought only Krishna could ever make me feel like that.

Krishna.

I thought of him as the hugging man walked with me to my room.

Did he miss me?

Was he waiting for me?

Would he take me for a wife after all the men I'd been with?

Would he care if I didn't?

I always loved the idea of Krishna, off a life away from my stepfather. But it was only the idea I ever fell in love with, it was what kept me watching him in our little village back in Nepal. I wonder if Krishna felt the same way I did. Maybe less or more.

I didn't like to think about it but I probably would never see Krishna again. I would never see my friend Gita and I would never see my brother or Amma again. I even wanted to see my stepfather, but only because it meant I would not be here.

I pulled my heart away from the past to look at the hugging man. He had chosen to hold my hand, like we were taking a leisurely walk somewhere pretty instead of a brothel. He didn't seem like the kind of man who would come to a brothel. That was for men like my stepfather, men who found justice in defiling innocent girls.

We entered my room and I closed the door.

I looked back at him and took in his features. I saw his soft black hair, parted on his side. I saw the brown eyes that held constant traces of pain to them. I saw his faded grey kurta and matching pants. I saw his dark brown shoes, worn from a great deal of walking.

What was this man doing in a brothel?

"Would you like to run away with me?" he asked in a low and humble voice.

I couldn't form an answer. I was too shocked for words.

"I'll take you away from here." he said.

"Why?" I finally asked.

"I love you." he admitted painfully. "I've loved you since the day we met."

"I'm not a virgin." the words rolled off my tongue as easily as I had used to ask for the things my mother sent me to get at the market. But that was before I had been robbed of something precious by all the men who come in here. I wasn't that Lakshmi anymore.

"I know you're not." he said. "I can't judge you for that. It wasn't your fault." he looked down, "Neither of us should be here."

"What would we do if we left?" I asked.

He looked up, it was like I saw his heart breaking in his eyes, "I would like you to be my wife."

"I don't know everything about being a wife." It was true, even after all I'd been through I didn't know everything about married life. I knew what the men did to me was done between married couples, but what the men did to me couldn't have been the sme as what people did when they're married.

He admitted, "I don't think anyone fully knows what to do entering marriage, but we can help each other. That's what marriage means, thinking of the other person first because they're your best friend."

I wanted to cry, not out of sadness, but out a joy I hadn't felt in a long time.

"I'll come with you," the words brought a smile to my face, "I'd like to be your wife."

He smiled a tear stained smile that let me know he had been thinking about me many times before this encounter. Just like the first time we met, his arms came around me, but it was no accident. This time his embrace was out of pure clean love, like I had never experienced with a man before. I hugged him back, dreaming of our life together.

Maybe, we save enough money to return to my village. I hugged him more for this possibility.

"I love you," I told him.

We pulled away, but he kept his gentle hands rested on the sides of my head. My hands stayed clasped on his arms.

* * *

I woke up before anyone else. Everything was so silent and unreal.

I suddenly realized the hugging man wasn't there. He had never come back. He would never come back to proclaim his love for me.

What man could love a whore?