Tere Bin - A Parallel Universe

Chapter Five Part 2

They were still in the same position when he felt his mothers hand on his shoulder, so he craned his neck to look at her. "Tum dono apne kamre main jao, ja kara ram karo, safar se aee ho, thak gae hoge"

Meerab could sense a motherly affection in her voice and looked at her. Her eyes were misty as if saying sorry for all the things her children had to go through because of her command to bring Haya back into the house from two years ago.

Murtasim nodded and stood up offering his hand to Meerab. They walked in unison towards their room, the air still heavy with the lingering tension from the main room. His arm was draped over Meerab's shoulders, a gesture that conveyed both comfort and a shared sense of confusion. The echo of Haya's voice calling out from the porch reached them, its tone carrying a mix of frustration and urgency.

As they ascended the staircase, each step seemed to weigh heavier than the last. The grandeur of the house, with its opulent decor, felt like a distant memory compared to the raw emotions that had unfolded in the main room. Her mind replayed the heated exchange of words, the strained relationships, and the unexpected turn of events.

Meerab could still not believe that Haya had confessed her evildoings on her own. As Meerab processed the events that had transpired, she couldn't help but marvel at the twist of fate. It was as if the universe had orchestrated its plan, guiding the truth to surface without her having to intervene actively. Haya, burdened by guilt or anger, had laid bare all her deceitful actions without any coercion.

Beside Meerab, he exhaled a sigh of relief. He had been earnest in his insistence that she put all her trust in him and that the truth would reveal itself in due time. The gravity of the situation seemed to have lifted from his shoulders, his eyes meeting Meerab's with a mix of understanding and reassurance.

What struck Meerab the most was the unwavering support from Maa Begum and her father. Having heard Haya's confession, they stood around her like a protective shield. They hadn't demanded an explanation from Meerab; instead, their expressions conveyed a mix of empathy. At that moment, Meerab felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for having gained her family's support.

His gaze was fixed on the hallway ahead, his thoughts seemingly occupied with deciphering the implications of the family drama. The faint voices of Haya, still audible from the porch, added to the dissonance in their minds. The maids, caught in the family dispute's crossfire, were urged by Haya to leave and allow her to retreat indoors.

Reaching their room, Meerab hesitated before turning the handle. The door swung open, revealing a sanctuary that felt oddly removed from the chaos unfolding downstairs. The subdued lighting and familiar furnishings contrasted sharply with the emotional turmoil that lingered in the air. Closing the door behind them, they shared a moment of silence. The weight of unspoken words hung in the room, as they both grappled with the aftermath of the drama. The distant voices from the porch slowly faded, leaving them in their peaceful cocoon.

It was as though time had stood still in this space, frozen in the echoes of her past. The room, with its ornate furnishings, appeared unchanged since the day she had left it two years ago. The mahogany four-poster bed was still adorned with the sheer, white curtains. It was a tableau of memories, each object holding a piece of their history.

The bed, with its layers of soft linens, looked inviting as ever, but now adorned with a personal touch. Two framed pictures stood proudly on the bedside tables, but they were not Murtasim's like they were two years ago. It was her in those frames. Candid pictures of her were taken inside their room. She could not recall a time when he had clicked those pictures. One of them was her getting ready in front of the dresser in a red dress, her curled chestnut brown hair graced her back. Her face was visible in the mirror. She was wearing the ring he had given her as munh-dikhai. The angle of the picture suggested that it was taken from a far end, maybe the couch. A faint smile formed on her lips. The other picture was her in the black dress, her lips painted red, and she was sitting in their private lawn. He was a charmer, she felt cherished.