Tere Bin

Chapter(10)

Murtasim's fury surged as he seized Haya's hand and forcibly propelled her out of the room. "AYINDA MEERAB KE AUR MERE KAMRE KE AASPAAS NAZAR NAHIN AANA CHAHIYE TUMHARA," his voice quivered with suppressed rage as he shouted at her. The intensity of his anger was palpable, his emotions raw and unfiltered in the heat of the moment. The door slammed shut behind Haya.

"Murtasim," Meerab uttered, her voice tinged with fear. She clutched his hand tightly, her grip betraying her unease. She had never witnessed him angry before. Murtasim had always exuded an air of tranquility and composure. Even when faced with accusations or blame, he had chosen silence over confrontation.

"Meerab," he swiftly turned towards her, his expression etched with concern. His gaze focused on her face, where a visible cut had appeared. While it wasn't a severe injury, the sight of it ignited a surge of protectiveness within him. Murtasim's temperament was usually calm and collected, but the thought of even a minor harm befalling her was enough to fray his patience. He was willing to endure any hardship, but the idea of anything happening to her, even a small cut, was something he couldn't bear.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his hand tenderly cupping her face. She held onto his hand and nodded in reassurance. "No, let me put a bandage on it," Murtasim insisted gently, leading her towards their bed.

Meerab settled on the edge of the bed, her eyes trained on Murtasim as he retrieved a bandage from the nearby table. His movements were gentle and deliberate as he placed the bandage over her cut, and she watched him closely. As he worked, a sense of familiarity washed over her—the same fear and concern that she had seen in his eyes back when they were kids, after Haya had pushed her down the stairs. It was a look she recognized all too well.

Murtasim's hand trembled slightly as he secured the bandage, and his expression was etched with deep concern. Everything about his demeanor was new to Meerab. The intensity of his worry, the way his hand trembled, and the way he focused solely on her well-being were all unfamiliar yet deeply touching. In that moment, Meerab realized that this level of fear and concern was something only her parents had shown her in the past; no one else had cared for her with such genuine intensity.

"Murtasim," she called to him softly, her voice carrying tenderness. His gaze shifted from her cut to meet her eyes, and within that exchange, she noticed something that touched her deeply—there was a small tear glistening in his eyes.

In a moment that felt almost instinctual, she acted on an impulse she couldn't quite comprehend. Gently, she cupped his face in her hands, her touch tender and deliberate. With a soft, lingering motion, she pressed her lips against the teary corner of his eye.

His hands instinctively found their way to her hips, sending a jolt of warmth that spread through her body. As she gazed at him, her touch tenderly tracing the contours of his hair, she spoke with softness, "Main thik hu. Pareshan mat ho." And in that moment, she realised that her parents were right about him. He was undoubtedly a good person, and it was becoming increasingly evident that he could be a great partner for her.

As Meerab's touch graced his face and her lips pressed against his teary eye, a sensation of disbelief and overwhelming emotion washed over him. It was as if the world around him blurred, and he felt a rush of warmth that left him momentarily breathless. In that suspended moment, he questioned if he was perhaps imagining it all. His hands, still resting on her hips, trembled.

Their eyes held each other's gaze as they leaned towards each other, their foreheads gently meeting. They remained in that position a little while longer, basking in the closeness of their connection and inhaling each other's scent. Despite not fully comprehending their actions, an unspoken desire to be close to one another in that moment bound them together.

Haya stood outside Murtasim's room in a state of shock. The events that had unfolded left her utterly bewildered. Murtasim's behavior was unlike anything she had ever experienced from him before. This was the first time he had raised his voice at her, and it was all because of Meerab. The question that nagged at her mind was: what was so special about Meerab that had garnered such a reaction from him?

Salma rushed to Murtasim's room, alarmed by the sound of her son's raised voice. As she arrived at his door, she found it closed, and her heart skipped a beat at the sight of Haya standing there, tears streaming down her face.

"Haya, what happened?" Salma inquired, her voice laced with concern.

"Sabko meerab chahiye tha Murtasim ke liye. Dekho ab kya kar rahi hai vo. Kaise patti baand rahi hai Murtasim ke ankhon par," Haya's words spilled out, laden with bitterness and frustration.

"I don't understand. Hua kya hai? Saaf saaf bata do," Salma demanded, her tone more insistent now.

"Mujhe kya pata? Bewaja Murtasim mujhpe chilla raha tha aur Meerab enjoy kar rahi thi," Haya said, her frustration evident in her words.

"Haya, mera beta bewaja kuch nahi karta. Sach bolo kya hua hai? Did you do anything?" Salma asked, her concern evident.

"Har baar main hi kyu kuch karu? Meerab nahi kar sakti?" Haya retorted, her frustration and hurt seeping into her words.

"Meerab ne kya kiya?" Salma asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Murtasim had actually picked out a necklace for me. I thought of showing it to her, but the moment I did, she suddenly snatched it from my hand and hurled it in my direction," Haya added, weaving a touch of drama into her fabricated story.

"How can she do that? Let me talk to her," Salma said, her concern evident. As she moved to knock on the door, Haya intervened, placing a hand on her arm. "Jaane do na, Maa Begum. Ab bolke kya faida," Haya urged, her voice carrying a fear of Salma finding out the truth.

Now, Haya's disdain for Meerab burned with even greater intensity. Previously, she had only wanted Meerab to be removed from Murtasim's life, but now that she had managed to turn Murtasim against her, Haya realized she needed a different approach.

As she marched towards her room, wiping away her tears, she began weaving ideas in her head, determined to find a new strategy to achieve her goals.