Chess & Checkers

19. Let the Games Begin

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The afternoon was brilliantly sunny, the kind of day that felt almost too perfect, with a gentle breeze whispering through the village, bringing with it the scent of blooming flowers and fresh-cut grass. Meerab wandered back and forth on the lawn next to her room, her steps light but her heart heavy with a whirlwind of emotions.

Earlier, she had quietly slipped back into the room after Murtasim had fallen asleep, seeking solace in the open air to untangle the chaos in her mind. Questions swirled around her head like leaves in a storm, each one more perplexing than the last. How did her car's brake fluid vanish without a trace? How had she escaped unscathed from what could have been a fatal disaster? The only explanation that seemed to fit was one word: miracle. There seemed to be no other logical explanation for it.

Her thoughts then drifted to the mysterious papers her husband and father-in-law had been discussing earlier when she had arrived. The way they had abruptly fallen silent and looked as though they had seen a ghost when she entered the room gnawed at her.

What were they hiding from her?

But above all, her thoughts kept returning to Murtasim. She glanced into the bedroom, her gaze piercing the sheer white curtains, to see him lying there, lost in peaceful slumber.

There was a storm in her mind, each thought crashing into the next. She had thrown down a challenge, both to him and herself, declaring she would win him back, win his heart again. But the question was, how?

The words had tumbled out in a moment of desperation, a spontaneous declaration driven by her deep need to regain his trust and revive their bond. He was her husband, yes, but more importantly, he had always been her best friend, her confidant. The thought of losing him was unbearable.

As she stood there, watching him sleep, his back rising and falling with each gentle breath, a sudden rush of emotions welled up within her. Butterflies fluttered wildly in her stomach, a testament to the new, thrilling and exciting feelings she had slowly begun to harbor for him. She had meant it when she'd said she accepted him wholeheartedly, and now she faced the daunting task of making him see that, of rekindling the bond that once flourished between them not too long ago.

The afternoon sun bathed the garden in a golden glow, but within Meerab, a storm raged on, a storm of fear, hope and an emotion she still struggled to understand. She knew she had to find a way, a path to reach his heart once more, to remind him of the bond they shared, and to prove that he was worth fighting for, just like he always did for her.

Flashbacks of the last time they were here flooded her mind. Her hand moved up on its own accord, her fingers lightly brushing her burning cheek as a sudden blush crept up, remembering the tender peck he had left there before storming off to confront the Maliks. A shy giggle threatened to escape her lips  then, but she pressed them into a tight smile, trying to contain the bubbling joy.

As more memories surged back, it felt as though another swarm of butterflies had taken residence in her stomach. She thought of the album he had kept, filled with their shared moments, and the picture of them on his bedside table. The magical evening on the lake came rushing back—the golden diye illuminating the water, casting a soft, enchanting glow over everything their light touched. It had felt like a scene from a fairytale. But that fairytale had quickly turned into a horrific nightmare.

Gunshots, panic, and the desperate struggle for survival invaded her thoughts. She remembered the chaos as Murtasim flipped the boat to shield her, but still, a bullet had found its mark. Subconsciously, her fingers drifted to her side where the now-healed wound lay hidden under her shirt.

Yet, with the harsh memories came comforting ones. She recalled waking up after surgery, Murtasim rushing to her side, his face etched with worry. He had refused to leave her side for even a second, and his reluctance was palpable every time something forced him away from her hospital room. A smile played on her lips as she remembered how he had sought comfort in her fingers, mindlessly playing with them, pulling them in every direction, tracing the lines on her skin, and even fiddling with her rings. It was a childhood habit of his—a sign of his deep connection to her, a subconscious act of seeking solace.