Meri Musibat [Tere Bin FF]

9. 21, 24 - Part 1

A/N: And it's summer again and Meerab has returned! Thank you to all of you for all your love and the hilarious comments on the last chapter, I am glad you all enjoyed Murtasimbakri Khan's POV! But back to our favourite humans now!

----------------------------------------------

The golden hues of the summer sun painted the village in warm colors. Birds chirped, children laughed, and life seemed to be moving in its rhythmic cycle. But for Murtasim, life had come to an agonizing stillness. He sat on his desk by the window of his study, overlooking the vast fields, lost in thought.

He should have known.

The moment he had agreed to let Meerab spend the summer in the village, a part of him had known it wasn't a good idea. But he had pushed that intuition away. Those tears from last year, those desperate, silent drops that told tales of pain, had etched themselves into his memory. He couldn't see her suffer within the grand walls of the Khan Haveli in Hyderabad, not when the village promised her the company of their pet goat, and an atmosphere that made her happy.

In the labyrinth of his feelings, Murtasim had convinced himself of a theory. Her absence over the months had fanned the flames of his emotions. Perhaps if she was constantly within sight, he would grow used to her presence, just as he had with everyone else. The constant pang in his heart would diminish, and he could regain some semblance of normalcy. After all, that's how desensitization worked, right?

With that notion, the summer had commenced. Meerab had relocated to the village. The early days were awkward. Meerab had attempted multiple conversations, seeking closure or perhaps a new beginning. But Murtasim, tangled in his web of confusion and denial, evaded her every time.

She would without fail approach him and utter, "Murtasim... can we talk?" Meerab's voice, once sweet and melodic, now sent a chill down his spine. Not because it had changed, but because of the unwanted emotions it evoked in him, and how weak it made him feel.

He'd reply tersely with a "I'm busy," even if he was just wandering aimlessly. Every single time, he'd offer the same excuse. Her attempts grew less frequent, but the weight of unsaid words between them only grew heavier.

He couldn't fathom what she wanted to discuss. Was it their past, or a possible future? Did she want to clear the air or fill it with more emotions? The unknown terrified him, and avoidance seemed easier than confrontation.

But as the days turned into nights and nights back into days, Murtasim realized that avoiding Meerab was harder than confronting his feelings. He was trapped, not by the walls of the haveli or the boundaries of the village, but by his own heart. And he didn't know how to break free.

Meerab's sudden entrance into the study disrupted Murtasim's train of thought. The familiar trot of Murtasimbakri followed close behind. He couldn't help but note the cheerfulness in the goat's step, a stark contrast to the tense atmosphere between him and Meerab. Murtasimbakri had seemed to instantly switch loyalties upon seeing Meerab again, much to Murtasim's chagrin, she rarely visited him anymore, and when she did, she just tried to bite him as if he had offended her in some way.

"I need to talk to you," Meerab's voice, firm and insistent, pulled him back from his wandering thoughts. Murtasimbakri, perhaps sensing the tension, found solace in chewing on Murtasim's discarded shawl by the armchair, her eyes moving back and forth between the two of them.

"I am busy," Murtasim retorted, his voice calm but internally cursing how his heartbeat seemed to betray his composed exterior every time she was near.

Meerab's presence was like a fragrant storm. He couldn't put a finger on what she wore, but her scent was a paradox - both overpowering in its intensity yet subtly lingering in the backdrop, making him yearn for more. The aroma teased his senses, inviting him closer, and he had to physically anchor himself. He dug his heels into the plush carpet beneath his feet, resisting the overwhelming urge to close the distance between them.