Muhafiz-E-Khan (Tere Bin MeeraSim FF)

21 - Keemat

Alone, an awkward tension filled the car, where Murtasim finally got Meerab alone after a whirlwind had drawn them apart. ''I told daadi that she can't look at rishte but it seems you beat me to it,'' he smiled, informing of the advancement with a sense of relief. It was mission accomplished and one step closer to making amends.

Yet, there was half a mountain left to climb and Meerab was still upset. ''Why did you really come here?'' No amount of cool drinks could patch over the mujra, in her opinion. Meerab expected an apology and got ready to promptly reject her husband — but he didn't even attempt to touch her thigh or wrist in the privacy of the car, giving away that something was direly wrong.

''Biwi ko aankh bhar ke dekhna kaafi reason nahi hai?'' (Is it not enough of a reason to get a good look at my wife?)

Relaxing fractionally, Meerab's head lulled to the side of the passenger seat to see him in concentration. (No.)

Letting go of the small talk, Murtasim turned the vehicle onto the bustling main road and prepared himself to unleash the news that they spiralled deeper into trouble. He was cool and collected when he shared facts instead of sweet talk, ''Nooran mujhe dhamki dey rahe hai. She knows about us; she saw us and heard us arguing in the gaon whilst the mujra went on. She wants money to keep quiet or she'll tell Sarfaraz.'' (Nooran is threatening me.)

Meerab inhaled sharply, looking to him with defeat etched into her features. ''Bhai ko? Ab kya karenge?'' Her tone evolved into a soft plea, one brimming with peaked fright. Her blood cooled and chest sank as their options wore slim. (What are we going to do now?)

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The phone ringing provided an escape for Murtasim to weasel out of Daadi's intrusive questioning, but the number met with was someone unexpected, already investigated and memorised. ''Where did you get my number from?''

''Sarafaraz sahab ke phone se,'' she replied, voice regally smooth with a clear, articulate purpose. (From Sarafaraz sir's phone.)

The home around Murtasim felt foreign for a second, passing through the hallway to think. ''Aur usko patta hai ke tumne mujhe phone kiya?'' (And does he know that youre calling me?)

''Patta hona chahiye?'' Nooran feigned obliviousness, her notes purring through the phone with a feline inflection as though to be seductive. (Should he know?)

Murtasim pushed the door and then twisted the handle of his bedroom, leaving Rayyan to go home and Daadi to busy herself elsewhere. Infront was a clean room, almost clinical except for the 3 screen set up and scattered, disassembled hardware on the desk. It was unlike the usual married man's room that held a femanine touch; this place was all him except for tokens stolen from Meerab. ''Mera kuch nahi lagta, tummein patta ho,'' Murtasim uttered firmly, his tone heavy and without the implication of friendship. (He isnt anything to me, you should know.)

''Baat karne hai. Aah ke mujhe millo,'' Nooran invited flatly, now pretending as if time was fleeting. (I need to speak with you. Come meet me.)

Grimacing at even the thought of being alone with her, Murtasim removed himself from the equation all together. ''I'm not interested. Ainda ke liye... You should be careful when speaking to Sarfaraz's men like this,'' he warned, wondering why she attempted to play with fire — he always knew that once the truth got out, the wrong attention would be drawn. Just as Anwar utilised him for muscle, and Sarfaraz for intel, now Nooran wished to derive a new companion, it seemed. (And for next time..)