Muhafiz-E-Khan (Tere Bin MeeraSim FF)

23 - Zameer

''The biriyani smells so nice,'' Meerab remarked while watching the silver cauldron on the hob. The spiced perfumes it released made her salivate.

A low sizzling noise hummed in the background. The oak chopping board held the aftermath of plucked mint leaves and was scattered sliced lemons. ''Bas dumm pe hai,'' Daadi said with growing anticipation. Her gold adorned arms graciously folded on her waist. (It's just steaming.)

The girls were encompassed with a sense of completeness as they stood together with Meerab in their company, but the weight of the truth was brushed off. Sunlight trickled in through their stained glass windows, shutters left half open to cleanse the air. Light rays of red and forest green splayed inwards and onto the marble flooring like spilt paint.

Mariyum stepped closer to Meerab, an inquisitive mischievousness glinting in her eyes. ''And in the meantime, I have something to ask you.''

''Ask away,'' Meerab replied, oblivious to their towering expectations.

Mariyum exhaled, unable to keep the question in anymore. Her eyebrows furrowed, drawing closer. ''Kaun hai woh larki?'' Her head tilted, a periwinkle dupatta toyed in her fingertips as she studied Meerab like she held the key to all of their answers. (Who is the girl?)

Caught off guard at the request for gossip, Meerab squinted for more hints. ''Kaun?'' Meerab's smile spoke of confusion. (Which girl?)

Daadi stood silently and Mariyum's asked in a hushed tone, ''Woh larki jo mera bhai pasand karta hai?'' (The girl that my brother likes?)

Then it dawned on Meerab that she was their one source of information, she had leaked that Murtasim spoke to a girl on the phone while on duty. An awkward chuckle escaped her lips, unprepared to be grilled.

The girl Murtasim liked was his wife; Meerab stood before their very eyes, yet unable to stake her claim.

The wish to confess the truth, and share that they were wed, was pushed aside by the sensible, restrained part of Meerab. The consequences would not be favourable. Without the full picture of stolen moments of affection and covert devotion, their marriage and love would appear to be hollow. Meerab would be scandalised and their painful wait would be for nothing.

On the other hand, revoking the statements about Murtasim's inconspicuous communications would imply that he's single; Meerab would not share him, simply the idea was deplorable. So the only option would be to lie, Meerab reasoned. Her hands flailed at her side, gaze oscillating between the women, each one harbouring expectation and curiosity to unveil the other half of Murtasim; it weighed upon her and made her squirm. ''Haan, baat karta hai phone pe kisi larki se,'' slipped from Meerab's lips in a lilt of uncertainty before compunction seeped into the back of her mind. (He does speak to someone on the phone.)

They lit up. ''Naam patta hai?'' (Do you have a name?)

Meerab's mouth felt empty for a second, unable to choose a name fast enough. The aim was to block other girls from his family's periphery, not herself too. ''Nahi, naam nahi sunna, but it was a feminine voice.'' (No, i've not heard a name.)

''Aur khabi usse milne gya hai jab duty pe ho?'' A detective flair prompted Mariyum to ask. (Has he ever gone to meet someone while you're with him?)

His duty was Meerab, always had been. It felt like all clues point to her. Words failed to assemble into a coherent fable and her mouth was dry. ''Main paani pe lou?'' A step was taken backwards and Meerab's hip collide with the kitchen counter. (Can I get some water?)

Mariyum nodded and the air thinned, turning to the fridge for a bottle of mineral water. The glass was placed on a mirrored tray and she walked out into the heart of the home. Then turned the corner towards the living room. The tray was placed upon coffee table. They took the surroundings chairs, kept huddled close together as in a conference.