The pain in his side was unbearable, through the darkness Gaston at first felt the pleasant touch of gentle fingers on his stomach, but then there was a feeling as if red-hot needles were poking into the wound. The man tried to prevent this when he heard Belle's voice

"Please don't move. I need to clean the wound and stop the bleeding. Please."

Gaston opened his eyes, consciousness returned again. In consciousness, he could endure any pain. Almost any.

Belle was fiddling with his side, and to distract himself, the man began to look at the room and his wife. Belle looked like a butcher, she was so covered in blood.

Gaston realized that he was lying on the bed and asked:

"How did you drag me?"

"Rolled on logs from the fireplace. I thought I couldn't, but I could. Try not to move, I'm sewing it up."

"Is everything really bad there?" Gaston asked. "Nothing like this has not happened to me for a long time."

"It's going to be fine," Belle replied, either reassuring herself or him. She cut off the remnants of Gaston's torn shirt, and he stretched out on the cool sheets.

The girl applied a bandage, pleasantly touching his skin with thin fingers, the pain became bearable.

It would be nice to die right now.

"Why do you say that?" Belle stood up, finished, and frowned at him. Apparently, he said these words out loud. "Why did you go to the forest at night looking? Did you want to die?"

Perhaps for the first time, Gaston didn't know what to answer. Because he didn't understand. Go into the woods to... think? To drown out that unpleasant feeling in the heart? He's never done anything that doesn't make sense, but now…

Of course, he didn't want to die. But it was also quite sickening to live the way it used to be.

Gaston looked away from the hazel eyes of the girl and said softly:

"You'd be glad if I died. You would be free, and would be innocent of the fact that I died."

Belle stood up.

"What nonsense. How can you think that about me?"

She went out and changed into clean clothes. Then she came over and wiped the blood from his face and gave him a drink. Her face was sad and serious.

Belle bent down to help Gaston sit up, and her fluffy hair tickled his chest. Thin arms were hugging him.

So strange… In order for Belle to hug him, it was necessary to become not strong, but weak, it was necessary to commit a stupid act, not smart and cunning.

And most importantly, Gaston was still not happy. For some reason, all the simple joys disappeared after the wedding, and some kind of incomprehensible longing appeared instead.

"That's it", Belle went out, and the man heard her rattle the plates.

Well, he probably shouldn't have done that. Forcing her to get married. Gaston thought he was going to be the winner, but he felt like he was in a cage in his own house.

His little wife…

Gaston squinted at the stack of books in the corner. He brought them to Belle, but she stopped reading when she got married.

There were questions in his head, and if Gaston could read, he would try to find this answer. Most likely, it was there.

In the fairy tales that his mother read to him in his early childhood, after the wedding everyone lived happily ever after.

Maybe in Belle's books, it was different, some more difficult situations?

There was another thought that Gaston was constantly pushing away. Is it possible to go back in time, in the sense that married people would become unmarried again? Well, if they made a mistake? If he was wrong?

If it were possible, let Belle go back to her father, and let anyone laugh at him. Because this incomprehensible longing in his chest, when he sees her every day, is much worse than any ridicule. And by the way, who would dare to laugh at him, knowing his iron fists? Well, he did a stupid thing, a big stupid thing.

Gaston turned so that his wounded side would not bother him so much, and squinted at the stack of books.

There, most likely, were answers to all questions. They were like hunting trophies, but Belle's trophies. Gaston had seen people who couldn't even catch a rabbit, and he was the best of the best at hunting. Belle was the best at reading books, so it would be as easy for her to answer these questions as it would be for Gaston to catch a rabbit.

Exactly. It seemed to the man that he had solved this problem, and lay down comfortably.

Belle came back, sat down next to him and began to help him eat. The closer she was, the more it burned in her chest, covering the pain from the wound on her side. It made him want to have silly conversations.

"Belle, would you like to read before going to bed? It's still light and there's time."

"For what?"

He almost got angry and, making a careless movement, groaned in pain:

"For what", "for what"! Gaston mimicked his wife. "Because you liked it. Maybe that's how you rested. It scares me that you've become different!"

Belle slammed her plate down on the table.

"Why do you want me to read? What's wrong with you? You've become so strange! And if I've become different, it's good, it means I've become smarter," the girl added with some bitterness. "This reading didn't bring me anything good, just broken dreams."

"What did you dream about?" Gaston leaned forward, ignoring the pain. After all, if he makes her angry, she becomes real, and then he... will be able to understand her.

"Nothing," Belle answered quickly and dryly and turned away.

"No, you was dreaming," her husband insisted. "Definitely not about that", - he waved his hand, indicating their house. "And not about me and our children. So about what?"

"About all sorts of nonsense," the girl answered after a pause. "About distant lands, adventures and true love."

Gaston pondered her words in silence.

From this short phrase, he could understand the real Belle, get to know her, and that's exactly what he wanted lately.

"Why aren't you laughing?" the girl asked in surprise.

"Laughing at what?"

"At my dreams."

"I don't see anything funny about it."

Belle was looking at him again, frowning, as if trying to catch him in a lie. Then she spoke, rather quickly, as if speaking even to herself and not to him.

"Distant countries… There are people everywhere, and they are the same everywhere. Well, if I see the sea, for example, so what? I'll see the capital, Paris, and what? Everything is the same everywhere. Adventures..." her face darkened, as if she was remembering something, then the girl shook her head. "No, it's better without them, a quiet life without worries and disappointments. And true love does not exist at all."

"How does it not exist?!" Gaston stood up for true love. In general, the way Belle said, he himself always said and thought, but for some reason now her words caused an inner protest in him, such a simple and cynical view of the world seemed wrong. Empty.

Belle, as if she had been waiting for this question, or maybe she had been thinking it over with herself for a long time, answered almost immediately:

"Well, of course it doesn't exist. Who, tell me, from our town, does have this true love? People just get married when the time comes and have children. That's all. And to clog your head and dream about the impossible things is the way to disappointment."

"If there is something missing among the residents of our town, it does not mean that it does not exist at all," Gaston argued.

Belle studied his face again. Then she touched Gaston's forehead, checking for fever.

"You've become very strange," she repeated for the umpteenth time. "Stop it, otherwise they will make fun of you as well as of me and my father."

"I won't let them make fun of you anymore.

Belle didn't answer and, after putting away the dishes, straightened the sheets.

"Try to sleep, or you'll get worse. I'll sit with you."

"No need, I'm fine. Go to bed."

They simultaneously looked at the vacant place on the bed next to Gaston. Before the man could say anything, the girl blew out the candle, kicked off her shoes and lay down next to him.