When Rivals Collide (Tere Bin AU)

Chapter 2. Turn Of Events

Meerab's return to the Khan Mansion was marked by a palpable tension following her recent encounter with Murtasim. The grand living room, with its Persian carpets and antique wooden furniture, exuded a sense of serene opulence, reflecting the rich history of the Khan family. Anwar Khan, her father, reclined in a well-worn armchair, his grizzled features softening into a smile at the sight of his daughter.

"Assalam o Alaikum, Baba," Meerab greeted him, her smile strained yet respectful.

"Wa Alaikum as salam, beta," Anwar Khan replied, his gaze sharp and perceptive, noting the faint traces of unease in her demeanor. "Kaisi rahi meeting?"

"Meeting tou bohot achi rahi, Baba," Meerab responded, though her satisfaction was overshadowed by the remnants of her confrontation with Murtasim.

Anwar Khan's eyes narrowed, sensing the tension. "Koi pareshani hai?"

The weight of her encounter with Murtasim pressed heavily on her. After a brief hesitation, Meerab felt compelled to confide in her father. "Murtasim..."

Anwar Khan nodded, clearly aware of the gravity of the situation. "Han beta, I know. Mera khayal hai humein school ki inauguration ko delay karna hoga. We can't afford any disruptions like last time. There are still many in the village who oppose the idea. Malik was a great support in this regard, but since his Alzheimer's worsened, I've been left alone. His son is also not cooperative."

Meerab's curiosity was piqued by the reference to "last time." "What do you mean by last time, Baba?"

Anwar Khan's gaze grew distant as he reminisced about a painful past. "Nothing beta. Let's have dinner, hmm?"

The room felt laden with unspoken words and the weight of history. Meerab's determination to uncover the mystery of "last time" only deepened. As the night fell and the mansion settled into tranquility, Meerab retreated to her room. With her laptop open and a resolute spirit, she began her quest to unravel the enigma surrounding the "last time."

Her room was a haven of quiet contemplation, the soft glow of the desk lamp casting a gentle light around her focused face. On her laptop screen, a tapestry of websites, articles, and community forums unfolded, each potentially holding a clue to the past events in their district related to girls' schooling.

Hours slipped away as Meerab delved deeper into her research. She scoured news articles, perused blogs, and navigated community forums, yet found no trace of significant incidents or conflicts concerning girls' education. Frustration mounted, but her resolve remained unwavering. The mystery of "last time" was not just a historical curiosity but a crucial factor in ensuring the success of the girls' school.

With a heavy sigh, Meerab closed her laptop. The soft click of the device shutting echoed in her dimly lit room. Her exhaustive search had yielded no answers, leaving the mystery unresolved and casting a lingering shadow over her determination. She acknowledged that finding the truth would require more than just online searches and resolved to seek answers through other means.

As she lay in bed, sleep eluded her, her mind racing with unanswered questions. The anticipation of the next day's conversations with Marium, her confidante, filled her with a mix of hope and anxiety. The first rays of morning light cast a golden hue across her room, signaling a new day and new opportunities to unravel the tangled web of history surrounding her village.

With a trembling hand, Meerab reached for her phone and dialed Marium's number. The phone rang, its sound piercing the silence of the morning.

"Hello?" Marium's voice was shaky, fraught with the weight of recent events.

"Marium, it's Meerab," she said, her concern evident. "Is everything alright?"

Marium's response was laden with sorrow. "Chacha... Chacha is gone, Meerab. He... he passed away in his sleep last night."

The news struck Meerab like a physical blow. Malik Shah Nawaz, the man who had been a steadfast supporter of the girls' school, was no more. Her eyes filled with tears, and she struggled to find words of comfort for Marium and her family. "I'm so sorry, Marium. He was..."

Marium's voice trembled further, reflecting their shared grief. "He was a good man, Meerab. He believed in the school, and he believed in us. I don’t know what we’ll do without him."

In the dimly lit room where sunlight had yet to fully penetrate, the two friends shared a quiet moment of mourning, united by their profound loss. Meerab’s thoughts turned to Murtasim. Knowing his past experiences with loss, she wondered how he was coping with the death of his father.

Her concern for Murtasim led her to question Marium. "Murtasim kaisa hai?"

Marium's voice was a fragile thread. "Pata nahi, Meerab. I don’t know how he's managing to maintain his composure in front of everyone. It’s as if he’s made of stone, as if Chacha’s death doesn’t affect him."

Meerab was deeply moved by Marium's words. The contrast between Murtasim’s stoic exterior and the profound grief she imagined he was feeling stirred a complex sense of empathy in her. The ongoing feud between their families seemed trivial compared to the shared human experience of loss. Determined to bridge the divide, Meerab resolved to understand Murtasim’s grief better and, perhaps, find a way to mend the rift between their families.

The days following Malik Shah Nawaz’s passing were shrouded in mourning throughout Badalpur. The village, now bereft of a respected elder and advocate for change, saw a sea of mourners paying their respects. Meerab and her parents joined the throng at the Malik residence to offer their condolences.

After expressing their sympathies, Meerab decided to visit Marium in her room to offer comfort. The Malik household was filled with subdued whispers and the aroma of incense, creating an atmosphere thick with grief.

As Meerab approached Marium’s room, a low, mournful voice from an adjacent chamber caught her attention. Curiosity prompted her to investigate. She moved closer, her steps cautious, and gently pushed the door open. Inside, she saw Murtasim, alone in a dimly lit room, clutching a framed picture tightly in his hand.

The room was adorned with portraits of Murtasim’s parents, their ghostly light casting a somber glow over his tear-streaked face. He sat in a state of profound sorrow, his voice trembling as he spoke. "Ammi, Abbu, aap dono ke bina kya hoga mera ab? Why am I expected to face and comfort everyone in the village as if I just didn’t lose a parent?"

Meerab remained at the doorway, her heart aching with sympathy. She observed the raw pain on Murtasim’s face, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. The room, a sanctuary of grief, bore witness to his struggle with the loss of his parents and the burden of his responsibilities.

Murtasim’s grip on the framed picture was almost desperate, his voice quivering as he continued, "Am I not allowed to grieve in peace? Do they not see the loss that's tearing me apart from the inside?"

The room, cloaked in shadow and grief, revealed Murtasim’s vulnerability, a stark contrast to his public persona. Meerab felt a deep empathy for him, realizing that their rivalry was insignificant compared to the shared human experience of sorrow. The moment left her reflecting on the complex emotions binding them and the possibility of finding common ground amid their families' longstanding feud.

********************************

Quite a twist of events in this chapter huh :)