Muhafiz-E-Khan (Tere Bin MeeraSim FF)

36 - Nukhsaan

Trigger warning: If you're PMS'ing, if you're feeling sensitive or had a shitty day, read the chapter with caution (or save for another day) ❤️

Sarfaraz was true to his word, leaving Nooran behind like discarded litter, the change towards her was sudden and cold. The lack of Nooran's one and only client — the lordly lover that funded her lavish lifestyle and secured vast lands for her easier than any business deal— meant she panicked for security.

The addition of Meerab to Murtasim's home meant that Daadi's habit of keeping no staff broke, the home now enlivened with a buzz of dusting and cooking ladies. The amber flower garlands for Meerab's welcome had wilted and were cleared away, now replaced with a fresh bouquet of bloomed white roses upon the side table that mirrored her secret nikkah arrangement. Past it, Murtasim's office door was open as he worked with his head down.

A woman knocked on his door with hesitation, a wide dupatta wrapped around her shoulder. Simply the room he was in exuded power and might, scribbling rough notes as a model for a new prototype levitated on the screen ahead of him.

Like a well aimed target, Murtasim received a new sort of threat from Nooran for hush money, but this time it extended to staying quiet about her decade long affair with Sarfaraz. The pen fell from his hand and his forehead tensed.

The woman stepped inwards without invite, too engrossed to care. His head only lifted from the phone as she bought a teacup on a wide tray. ''Waapis ley jau, main bahir jaa raha hun,'' Murtasim instructed in a formal tone. (Take it away, i'm leaving.)

Then, Murtasim's grip around the phone tightened as he read the text from Nooran again, grimacing at the sheer audacity — Murtasim was not as forgiving as Sarfaraz, or as complaint. The iMac ahead of him switched off as a new pest arose. No tolerance remained for Sarfaraz's mistress, nor did she have a leg to stand on when making such hefty requests.

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When Murtasim's white Rolls Royce rolled over tarmac in Nooran's neighbourhood, her gates opened automatically like an expert host. A fleet of security vehicles trailed behind as he parked under her roof and exited the car with a distinct expression of being disinterested in the findings. A thin black shirt polo hung to his marble shoulders and hugged his athletic frame. Murtasim cut through the short path of greenery, coupled with a look that was stone cold. The ceilings ahead were high and the floor was as glossy as a luxurious magazine cover. The house help led him through a sleek living room and past an archway to an open balcony.

An antique, octagonal table was the focal point of the room, with 3 dark, woven chairs around it. Other than the matching rosewood mirror, the place was modern and bright. The walls were painted in a clean white, an ornate railing spanning the length of the veranda on the second floor, white linen curtains tied at the base as if they would need to be opened for smoke, closed for privacy.

The space reflected her secretive yet glitzy lifestyle. A Mini Lady Dior bag sat on the side table behind her in glossy black like an ornamental decoration. There was no veil on Nooran's head this time, instead a long, airy kaftan billowed till the ground, a gust of cool air tickling her elbow as her hand lifted to take a sip of a golden liquid.

On hearing footsteps, her hands affixed to the armrest and she sat poised as if to impress. ''Do you drink, Murtasim? I have whiskey, gin, rum... or something sweeter... I have wine open in the fridge?''

He caught onto the slight slur to her words, and the time of day that she drank her sorrows away, the bright light making her curtains glow. ''Yahan peene nahi aaya.'' (I've not come here to drink.)

''Bring flavoured tonic water for him,'' she ordered the staff instead.

Murtasim still shuffled forward and took the seat opposite her, thinking that Sarfaraz had treated her well by the splendour of the place. The grounds outside Nooran's home, past the open curtains, were lush. There was a shimmering pool and a line of lounge beds laid out. ''Dhamkiyan dene ke baad bhi mehmaannawazi?'' (You're hosting me even after giving threats?)