The fluorescent lights of the hospital room buzzed softly, illuminating the tense atmosphere. The walls, painted a sterile white, echoed with the muffled sounds of heart monitors and the faint beeping of machines. It felt like a battlefield—an emotional warzone where love and loyalty were at odds. Murtasim Khan stood at the center of it all, the weight of accusations raining down upon him, piercing his heart. Voices around him rose in pitch, each angry word striking like a dagger.
"Haan, Murtasim! Tumne ye kya kar diya?" Anwar roared, his eyes ablaze with fury, fists clenched at his sides. “Tumhari wajah se hamari Meerab ki halat aisi ho gayi hai!”
"Yeh sab meri galti hai," Murtasim whispered, the tremor in his voice barely audible amidst the chaos. "Main... main…”
His words were swallowed by the storm of voices. He felt like a criminal, shackled by shame and guilt, standing trial for a crime he couldn't comprehend.
Suddenly, Maa Begum made her entrance, her presence like a sudden gust of wind, commanding attention. Alongside her was Haya, her eyes darting between the chaos and her own twisted sense of ambition.
“Anwar ...Waqas, yeh mat bhoolo ke tum khan Murtasim Khan se mukhatib ho… Yeh kis lehje main baat kar rahe ho tum log?!” Her voice was sharp, slicing through the cacophony, yet her heart raced as she spotted her daughter-in-law.
She continued, a fierce protectiveness shining through the cracks of her demeanor. “Yeh mat bhoolo ki woh Meerab ka shauhar hai... Uska poora haq hai yahan maujood rehne ka.”
The room fell silent, the weight of her words hanging heavily in the air. But that silence was short-lived as Anwar shot back, “Aur Meerab ki izzat? Uska haq kahan gaya hai, Bhabhi Begum?”
Maa Begum had steeled herself, but the moment her eyes fell on Meerab—pale, trembling, her wide eyes reflecting horror—an icy wave of guilt chilled her blood. Panic had enveloped Meerab, her breathing shallow, hands clawing at the sheets as her face turned ghostly. “Meerab!” she cried out, the anger melting away, replaced by a motherly instinct.
“Doctor! Doctor!” she shouted desperately, rushing to Meerab’s side. “Kuch karo, dekho Meerab ko kya ho raha hai!”
But in all the commotion, Murtasim saw none of it; he was lost in an abyss of self-loathing. He could only see Meerab’s fear reflected in her eyes when she gazed upon him and it ravaged his soul.
“Murtasim, kuch kaho na!” Haya's voice pulled him back, but it dripped with a disingenuous sweetness. He could sense her insincerity, how she was waiting to pounce on his vulnerability. Yet, it only deepened his sense of despair.
“I… I didn’t mean to…” He stammered, swallowing hard against the bile rising in his throat. Stepping away from the chaos, he staggered toward the bathroom, the room spinning as his heart thudded painfully against his chest.
In the bathroom, the tiles were cold beneath his feet as he leaned over the sink, the rush of nausea taking hold. He heaved violently, the contents of his stomach emptying and swirling down the drain like his shattered resolve.
Staring into the bathroom mirror, he was confronted by the reflection he could barely recognize—each feature twisted with disgust and shame. The cruel smile plastered on his own face mocked him, tearing him deeper into darkness. “Murtasim Khan… aurton ki izzat ka muhafiz,” it sneered. “Ek aala zarf insaan apni hi biwi ka mujrim ban gaya. Tch tch tch, ab kaise milaonge usse nazar? Jin aankhon mein mohabbat dekhne ki tamanna karte the… dekh paaoge unhe apne liye nafrat.”
The words clawed at him, ripping apart the shreds of his courage. He couldn’t bear to look anymore; he shook his head violently, pushing against the mirror as if he could escape the truth it revealed.
As he stepped back into the corridor, Haya was waiting, her expression feigning concern—a viper hiding among lilies. “Murtasim, tum chinta mat karo...sab theek ho jayega. Woh log bhi sab samajh jaayenge, iss waqt tumhare saath kisika sahara hona zaruri hai...”
But Murtasim’s eyes were blank, lost in turmoil. He brushed past her, his heart racing for a singular purpose. “Nahi… mujhe usse dekhna hai,” he murmured to himself, urgency brewing beneath his despair.
He approached the room once again, where the air was thick with tension. Maa Begum held Meerab’s hand tightly, her own shaken. The doctor entered, calm yet serious, assessing the overwhelming fear that had taken hold of Meerab.
It was then that Murtasim found his voice, raw and cracking. “Meerab… mujhe maaf karo. Maine tumhe daraya....tumhe itni aziyat pahunchayi....tum jo saza dogi mujhe manzoor hai par mujhse aise muh mat phero.... Main mar jaunga... please I love you so much,” he pleaded, stepping forward.
But all he saw in her eyes was fear and bewilderment, a heart shattered by his actions. Her lips parted to speak, but no words came forth, only silent tears that fell unbidden. Each drop felt like a dagger to him, deeply entrenching himself in the guilt festering in his chest.
As she turned away, the fracture between them deepened, leaving Murtasim in a chasm of sorrow—haunted by his reflection, a scar engraved forever on his heart.
YOU ARE READING
Tere Bin
FanfictionMurtasim's eyes widened in horror as he stumbled upon Meerab's lifeless body in the bathroom, surrounded by blood. The shattered mirror, his own doing, lay nearby. Guilt and self-loathing consumed him. "Meerab...no...what have I done?" Murtasim whis...
