Tere Bin

Chapter 21

The moonlight poured through the gauzy curtains of Murtasim’s bedroom, casting delicate patterns of light and shadow onto the elegantly furnished space.

Haya’s heart raced as she slipped into Murtasim's bedroom, the heavy wooden door closing behind her with a soft click that seemed to resonate in the stillness of the house. The room held an air of tranquility mixed with an undeniable strain, a reflection of the stormy emotions swirling in her mind. Her eyes flitted across the space, scanning for the one item of utmost importance—a Khaani ring that belonged to Meerab. She searched every corner, her mind in a frantic whirl. She bent low, rummaging through the drawers of the polished oak dressing table, her fingers brushing against silk ties and scattered cufflinks. “Come on, where are you?” she muttered to herself, her fingers brushing over the smooth surface of the dressing table. She fumbled through various trinkets—cufflinks, a watch, and a few loose change coins—but the ring was nowhere to be found.

The bed was neatly made, the crisp white sheets reflecting the late afternoon sunlight streaming through the open window. Haya hurriedly pulled open the drawers of the bedside table, rummaging through items carelessly tossed inside—old receipts, an empty notebook, and a pack of cigerrette. Nothing but remnants of Murtasim's life that felt unimportant in her single-minded purpose.

Haya’s fingers turned cold when they missed the familiar glossy texture of the ring. She quickly went to the bed, pulling back the plush comforter and scouring the sheets. “Where is it?" she murmured to herself, urgency lacing her voice as her breath shortened.

Just as frustration began to bubble over, the door creaked open and Murtasim stepped in. He paused, brow raised, taking in the sight of Haya with a mixture of surprise and annoyance. Her frantic search caught his immediate attention, and without breaking his gaze, he settled onto the edge of the bed with a heavy sigh.

“Tum yahan kya kar rahi ho?” he asked, his voice heavy with an unmistakable tone of scrutiny.

Haya spun around, caught off guard, but quickly masked her fear with feigned calmness. “Woh... main puchhne aayi thi tumhe, kisi cheez ki zarurat toh nahi? Aur woh dhobi ko kapde dene the, woh lene aayi thi.” Each word slipped from her lips as easily as a well-practiced lie.

Murtasim's discerning gaze bore into her, and Haya felt the weight of his knowing look. He knew her too well, too intimately to be fooled by her excuses. “Yeh tumhara kaam toh nahi hai,” he retorted with an arch of his brow, folding his arms.

Playing with her emotions, Haya altered her expression to one of soft concern. “Tumhe dekhne aayi thi,” she insisted, moving a step closer, trying to reinstate some sincerity.

In response, Murtasim reached into his pocket and pulled out the Khaani ring, his fingers curling around it. He held it aloft, smirking as he did so. “Isse hi dhundh rahi thi?”

Haya’s breath caught in her throat, the very object of her desperation hanging tantalizingly within his grasp. Gulping, she spoke through barely suppressed envy. “Woh isse phenk kar chali gayi... tumhe phenk kar chali gayi... lekin nahi, tumhe toh koi hosh hi nahi. Jab woh yahan thi tab chhayi hui thi, ab woh yahan nahi hai toh bhi uska zikr hai, uski fikar hai.”

“Bilkul sahi kaha,” Murtasim replied, the corners of his mouth lifting into a smirk that oozed confidence. “Jab woh yahan thi tab bhi sirf uski fikar, uska zikr tha, aur jab woh yahan nahi hai, tab bhi uska zikr, uski fikar hai... toh fir koi toh khaas baat hai usmain jo tum mein nahi.”

Haya’s irritation flared, her envy of Meerab morphing into a discerning energy. She stepped closer again, seeking to invade his space, her tone defiant. The taunt stung, and Haya could feel her jealousy flaring like wildfire. “Baat hai na... woh bhaag gayi...tumhe chhod kar chali gayi... main nahi bhaagi,” she shot back defiantly, stepping closer in an attempt to provoke Murtasim.

Murtasim shook his head, a cold smile betraying a mix of pity and amusement, a dangerous amused smile playing on his lips. “Bhaagne waalon mein se nahi hai Meerab... majboor Kiya gaya hai ki woh yahan se chali jaaye.”

“Kehna kya chahte ho?” Haya demanded, fear and defensiveness bubbling to the surface.

Murtasim studied her, a heavy silence stretching between them before he spoke again, assessing her, his penetrating gaze unflinching. “Agar usse bhagna hota toh woh tab bhagti jab Waqas chacha ne kaha tha ki woh uske sage baap nahi hain. Agar usse bhagna hota toh woh tab bhagti jab uski shaadi mujhse karaai ja rahi thi. Usse bhagwana hota toh woh tab bhagti jab main hospital mein tha... lekin woh nahi bhaagi.” There was a pause, an electric silence stretching between them, saturated with unspoken thoughts. Haya’s heart thudded while she internally scoured for any trace of deceit or guilt in her eyes. “Haya, agar iss sab mein tumhara koi... koi bhi amal dakhal hua toh main saari zindagi tumhari shakal nahi dekhunga.”

A chill ran down Haya's spine at the weight of his words. The thought of what he might do if he ever uncovered her role in Meerab's departure sent her heart racing. For a moment, silence enveloped the room, tension thick enough to slice through. Fear clutched at Haya—a visceral chill that wormed into her thoughts. What would Murtasim do if he uncovered the truth about her stirring the events that led to Meerab’s ultimate departure? Gulping, she managed to say, “Iss mein mera koi amal dakhal nahi... lekin yeh baat tum khud se kyun nahi poochte... kya kiya aisa Meerab ke saath ki woh bhaag gayi?” Her voice pitched lower, the veneer of indifference slipping away as she challenged him, pushing back against his silent threats.

Murtasim’s head drooped for a moment, shame flashing across his features—a hesitation she rarely witnessed. The mention of Meerab seemed to strike a chord deep within Murtasim. His gaze dropped momentarily, shadowed by a flicker of shame that he quickly brushed away. Haya saw her opportunity and seized it. She reached out, her palm open, a facade of innocence draped over her intentions, the air turning tense. “Isse mujhe dedo... maa begum ne mangwayi hai.”

Murtasim’s jaw tightened, his expression hardening, his response was immediate and resolute. “Yeh Meerab ki angoothi hai.” He countered firmly, a protector in his own right. His tone left no room for argument as he clutched the ring, its significance towering over their bitter exchange.

Haya’s irritation flared, her envy of Meerab morphing into a discerning energy. She stepped closer again, seeking to invade his space, her tone defiant. “Lekin woh ab yahan nahi hai... aur woh yeh ab nahi pehenna chahti,” Haya argued, pushing her luck further in her desperation, her tone almost pleading, hoping to sway him in her favor.

Murtasim’s jaw tightened, the firmness in his eyes unyielding. “Woh kya chahti hai kya nahi, yeh tumhare matlab ki baat nahi hai... woh meri biwi hai, isspar uska haq hai aur Qayamat tak rahega.”

Haya felt the sting of his words as jealousy and rage battled within her. With Murtasim’s declaration echoing in her ears, she realized she had lost this round. Defeated, she turned to leave, feeling the weight of his attention lingering on her back—a reminder of her failure.

As she stepped into the hallway, she halted, spotting Maa Begum standing outside Murtasim’s portion, her expression a mix of anger and confusion. “Tum yahan kya kar rahi ho iss waqt?” she demanded, eyes narrowing dangerously.

Haya's heart raced anew. The tangled threads of jealousy, ambition, and desperation felt tighter than ever. She forced a smile, praying for a swift escape from the growing entrapment of her own making.

Hey guys.... Sorry for the late update....I was busy with my mid-semester exams. Thank you for your patience.