Muhafiz-E-Khan (Tere Bin MeeraSim FF)

2 - Shifa

They barely got outside the hospital when a burly man in an all white suit spun to see Meerab, throwing his cigarette stub to the side. ''Kitni der se intezaar kar raha hun. Tumhare baba ne phone kar kar ke mere kaan kharaab kar diye,'' he complained without a hint of decorum. His voice was hoarse from the smoking. (I have been waiting for so long and your father has been ringing me incessantly.)

''Sorry,'' Meerab replied formally descending the steps. Neither of the guys offered her a hand, uncaring of her excessively tall heels.

Murtasim was dumbfounded at the apology from Meerab, and figured that the lack of sleep must have disoriented her. She seemed almost disappointed at the man's presence outside the hospital, shying away as he approached.

Then the unknown man's gaze switched to the male who stood beside Meerab, tall and well built. He waited for her to say something, to provide an explanation. But she froze guiltily, using her hair as a veil.

''Yeh kaun hai?'' He asked with a possessive streak. (Who is this?)

Meerab felt like she way being surveyed, her company scrutinised and wrongly judged. ''Yeh Murtasim hai. Nawaz Sahab ke bete,'' she shared, not making eye-contact with neither of them. (This is Murtasim, Nawaz's son.)

The man softened, not seeing him as a threat. He gave a nod of acknowledgement to Murtasim. ''Salaam. Tumhare baba ke liye afsos hai. Ajao Meerab,'' he said, almost mechanically whilst leering at Meerab. It was clear that the condolences were insincere. (Hi. Condolences for your father. Come now Meerab.)

Murtasim saw it as an opportunity to lessen his burden, to make a speedy return to his father where his attention was more needed.

But he required a name to assure his baba that the responsibility had been properly disposed off. ''Aur aap kaun?,'' Murtasim asked, not recognising him, but assuming to be elite too by the sartorial elegance to his jacket. It was a hint that the man also came from her birthday party. (And who are you?)

''Main Amar, Meerab ka fiance,'' he shared, sliding his phone into his pocket. Their was a gross air of superiority surrounding him, and Murtasim instantly came to disliking. (Amar, Meerab's fiance.)

But Meerab's face was expressionless at the mention of a fiancé, taking steady breaths before she refocused and formulated her response. ''Amar, main Murtasim ke saath jaungi kyun ke Nawaz Sahab ne mujhse kha hai,'' she said. (Amar, I'm going with Murtasim as that's what Nawaz Saab told me to do.)

Amar almost squinted at Meerab's behaviour, at her uncanny obedience. ''Tum kabse kisiki sunne laggi ho? Ajao,'' he urged, his hand snaking around her back, hovering closely but not daring to touch. (Since when do you listen to anyone. Come.)

Her breath audibly cut of the proximity, mouth left parted as she squirmed forwards. ''Nahi. Bhai aur Mai bura maanenge agar tumhare saath gyi kyun ke hmaara nikkah nahi hua hai,'' she said in a defensive tone. (Brother and Mai will take offence as we aren't married.)

''Nikkah abhi nahi hua,'' he added confidently, almost smirking at the imminent prospect. (We are not married, yet.)

''Decide Meerab, hurry up,'' Murtasim interjected, irritated at the hold up. He had a bullet wounded father and family to get back to. The abyss above was only lit by a slither of a cresent.

Without hesitation, she unequivocally chose, ''Murtasim.'' Whilst furthering the distance from Amar, she fumbled in her bag for keys, her tresses falling forwards in an elegant auburn cascade of a curtain.

Amar saw how she easily dimissed him as if he was not important, and it got under his skin. ''Aur Murtasim mard nahi hai?'' He countered cockily, and Murtasim tensed at the attack. (Is Murtasim not a man?)