Kaabil

32. Hidden Unknown

Meerab

It was late evening when Murtasim and I came back to the Haveli.

Maa Begum had called Mom earlier that morning, informing her to trick me into visiting Murtasim while he was at his father's grave. Though she did not have to use their secret way of saying things, Bakhtu called. He reported that Murtasim was planning to visit the graveyard today and how bad he has been since I walked out of his apartment daily.

All someone had to say was Murtasim, and I could've jumped in the car without a second thought.

Mom and I met Maa Begum outside the graveyard near the orange Orchard field. Her swollen eyes indicated her tiredness mixed with her emotional state. I was the first one to approach her.

She, too, hugged me back and cried in my embrace.

"Meerab, beta. I'm sorry."

"Maa begum, why are you apologizing?"

She gulped, shaking her head. "Murtasim told me everything last night." My mother and I listened to Maa begum.

When Bakhtu led me to where Murtasim was sitting on the titled grave, his head hung low and his tear-streaked face, my heart beat insanely. Murtasim had been crying for hours. My heart sank even more, and I wished never to see his beatdown side ever again.

The days without him reminded me of the early days of our marriage. However, the only difference was that this time, I was dying without him. Saba and Mom tried to cheer me up. They had figured I was missing Murtasim, and I built on their suspicions. It was the truth—no lie. I went out again with my college friends, Abeer included. However, everyone was gushing over my husband, making me miss him terribly.

A knock on the door brought me back.

"Come in." I loudly stated. Mai entered with a trolley of food. Since Murtasim was in the shower and Maa Begum and Mama went back, I asked Mai to bring food to our room.

"Meerab Bibi, do you need anything else?" Mai asked and left when I said I would call if I did.

After fifteen minutes, Murtasim came out, looking as ethereal as always. He smiled and sat beside me. His gaze traveled from my hands resting on his thighs to my face. I intertwined our fingers without meeting his gaze and gently hugged him, tugging my lips. I felt Murtasim snaking his hand around my neck while his thumb rubbed my cheeks. He leaned in and rested his forehead against mine. My free hand traveled to his chest, where the scars lay beneath.

(There are some trigger warnings in this chapter. Please be aware. Any self-harm is Haram and is forbidden. If you need any help, please contact your closest helpline and doctors.)

"Meerab, I want to tell you something!" He mumbled in a low voice. I nodded, but my eyes remained closed. He unbuttoned a few buttons on his kurta, pressing my hand on his chest on the most profound and extended scar. I traced it with my fingertips, glancing at his face. "This!" He pointed. "I got it the day Baba died."

I gulped.

"The day you saw me in my old room. I held a long screwdriver," he paused, making my frown profound. "I...I..." He breathed heavily. My body shook with goosebumps, and I tightened my hold on his hand. "I tired. I tried to stab myself in the chest."

My eyes opened wide, and I could not blink. He glanced at me, worry in his eyes.

"After Baba, I lost myself, Meerab. I did not know what to do or how to be the son Mama was expecting or even the brother Maryam needed me to be. The first few years were worse. They were imperfect. They were terrible. I would often spend my days working day and night. Meerab, I tried to tune the world out and shut my doors. I worked the way my father would've wanted me."