Tere Bin

Chapter 16

Naurez Khan lingered outside Meerab’s hospital room, his heart pounding, mind racing. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled the air, but it was the bitter tang of Haya’s cruel words that cut through him like shards of glass. He had come to the hospital at Mariyam’s insistence—a gesture of support for her sister, though he felt largely out of place in this web of familial turmoil.

As he stood there—silent and concealed in the dim corridor—Haya’s voice slithered through the slightly ajar door, venomous and sharp. Each taunt she hurled at Meerab was like a lash against Naurez’s conscience. The words were a cacophony of manipulation and deceit, wrapping around Meerab like a serpent squeezing the life from its prey. Naurez clenched his fists, his knuckles whitening as he listened to Haya’s calculated cruelty.

His mind spiraled into a whirlwind of memories, flashes of naivety blinking before his eyes like faulty lightning. He could almost see her—Haya—the self-proclaimed martyr, whose deception had ensnared him just as surely as it had ensnared those she professed to care for. He recalled the day she claimed she couldn’t marry him because Mariyam was in love with him. Oh, how gullible he had been, enchanted by the mask of selflessness she wore so convincingly.

Bile rose in his throat. Haya's love for Murtasim was anything but pure; it was a twisted obsession, a malignant force wreaking havoc in the lives of those around her. She had allowed Mariyam—his gentle, sweet wife—to be lured into the clutches of Malik Zubair, a man whose name was synonymous with danger and treachery. Haya had sacrificed her sister’s well-being in a bid to isolate Meerab, to root her deeper in Murtasim’s life until she suffocated.

Naurez’s insides churned with a potent mix of pity for Meerab and a blazing fury directed solely at Haya. She was a puppet master, reveling in the chaos she orchestrated. He took a step back, memories crashing over him like a tidal wave—the day he’d first discovered Mariyam’s secret rendezvous with the enemy. Haya had spun a web of deceit over both their lives, playing with hearts as if they were mere pawns on her chessboard.

Anguish coursed through him like fire, and for a moment, the uncertainty of his next move hung heavy in the air. He thought of Mariyam—bright-eyed, kind-hearted Mariyam—who embodied a light so innocent, yet had been drawn into this darkness solely because of familial ties. His chest tightened at the thought of her trapped amidst the chaos wrought by her own blood.

He couldn’t let his wife be ensnared in this toxic family dynamic; he understood it now more than ever. Naurez’s resolve hardened like steel forged in a furnace of heartache. The weight of his decisions pressed down on him, each step toward the waiting room painfully deliberate. He had to confront Maa Begum, the matriarch whose iron grip had perpetuated the dysfunction plaguing her children. Yet, dread coiled in his gut at the thought of facing her.

Just as he reached for the door, a thought gripped him—a maelstrom of doubt and self-preservation spinning in his mind. What good would it do to raise his voice against the architect of this chaos? Would he not only plunge deeper into the murky waters of family affairs but also lead Mariyam farther into a storm of emotional disaster? His heart ached at the idea of entangling his beloved wife in this family’s web, especially when he already sensed that Maa Begum would overlook Haya’s malevolence yet again.

He hesitated, battling with his conscience. He could sweep Mariyam away from this toxic environment—far from the manipulative grasp of Haya and the oppressive expectations of the Khans. But, was that not an act of selfishness? To remain silent, doing nothing at all, while the roots of despair threatened to strangle both Meerab and Mariyam? Yet, the thought of his wife’s happiness crushed under the weight of family betrayal clawed at him.

Finally, he pulled his hand away from the door, the decision gnawing at his insides like a relentless rodent. To stay out of their affairs—to shield Mariyam from further pain—felt morally debatable, but he somehow convinced himself it was the lesser of two evils. The desire to remain uninvolved mingled ominously with a burgeoning guilt, leaving him feeling hollow. After all, he didn’t want to intrude into the complex emotional dance between Murtasim and Meerab, a reality that felt far more delicate than his own stagnant struggles.

With clenching fists, he turned away from the door, footsteps echoing through the sterile corridor, leaving behind ambivalence coiled tightly around his weeping heart. Outside, the sun glowed through the hospital’s vast windows, casting sharp shadows that danced in sync with his turmoil, while Naurez stepped further into a fog of trepidation—unsure of his own choices, but resolute in the misguided comfort of silence.

Hey guys.... thank you for reading the story💗💗...I hope you are enjoying it so far.....I just wanted to say that though I have already planned the course of this story I am open to incorporating your requests or any scenes or scenarios that you would like me to address as long as it aligns with the plot.