Atonement

Lost Den of Dreams

Thank you for the lovely feedback. I am absolutely flabbergasted with the love showered on this. I hadn't strictly planned to continue this but then.. this floated into my mind. And I jotted it down for you. Hope it makes you all happy:)

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In the days past, it was very unusual for Meerab to wake up early. In the nine months that she had spent in this room , she had almost never woken up before Murtasim. He was the early bird and she liked to sleep in. But ever since she had become a mother, sleep had become a luxury. She was used to fragmented sleep for the last 18 months. And so that morning she found herself to be the first one up.

Murtasim was fast asleep with his palm, resting on his daughter's stomach. It had been his first night with Meesam which meant he had known what it was like to sleep with a baby finally. It was surreal to say the least to see him sleeping with them. In a way Meerab was thankful for waking up early. It allowed her to get herself and her feelings sorted. So she allowed Murtasim to catch some much needed rest.

She placed her feet on the carpet softly, her eyes scanning the room. She had forgotten how big it was. It was modern but luxurious – full comforters covered the bed and a tasteful sofa sat at its foot.

She walked out to the dressing room and sighed. A chaise lounge stretched beneath the window, a woman's dressing table opposite, gorgeous but bare. Meerab's  eyes darted to the opposite side of the room. Murtasim's  chest of drawers was clearly being used, cufflinks and coins were strewn haphazardly over the top. She made her way over to it, finding the watch  her Baba given him at their wedding . A few other trinkets were scattered here and there.

She opened a drawer and found his clothes neatly arranged. Pulling the door to one of the closets that lined the room she discovered rows of neatly pressed shirts.

The smell that hit her was so familiar and yet so unfamiliar. She had spent nine months in this room living with him and yet the months apart were longer.

She looked inside each cupboard, just to be thorough. One side of the sumptuous room was full, lived in. All his clothes were neatly arranged. But the cupboards on the other side of the room were lonely companions –  strangely  desolate. Her clothes still hung sadly from the hangers, clothes she used to wear years ago. Her shoes were cleaned but kept in the way she had arranged so long ago.

She pulled the richly-furnished chair back from the feminine dressing table and carefully sat down. Her long hair fell in waves around her as she peered into the mirror. It wasn't all bad. Her tears had dried and mascara hadn't run. Instead her eyes were brighter than they had been in months.

Pleased with her own reflection she glanced over her shoulder, noticing how the mirror on Murtasim's  chest of drawers was positioned to catch this one exactly. A small, real smile graced her face as she imagined lost possibilities.

Then she  would sit here, in the mornings, and brush her hair or put on her jewellery. Behind her Murtasim  would do the same, fix his hair and put on his watch. And all the time they could look at each other, share secret smiles, across their dressing room.

Chain pehna raha hoon aur kya
A wave of nostalgia passed through her. In the two years she had been away, she had thought a lot about what could have been. How they could have not been so destroyed? There were many variables but now here that slice of memory caught her heart. It was the first time had shown interest in her. She had been astounded by the way he had exercised his right over her, very possessively turning her around and putting the chain on her, his eyes sultry. She had swallowed hard, his fingers on her neck giving rise to feelings she couldn't understand then. Now she wondered if she had been more open and more receptive to him, would she have prevented all the heartbreak that followed or were they destined to be broken?