Three days had passed since Murtasim had been banished to the uncomfortable, unforgiving couch, and it was starting to feel like a lifetime. His every muscle ached from the lumpy cushions, but what pained him more was the coldness from Meerab, who acted as if he didn't even exist. Her indifference was slowly driving him to the brink of madness.
He missed her-desperately. Every inch of the haveli reminded him of her presence, of the little moments they shared that he now craved. The mornings when she'd smile at him over their cups of tea, the afternoons spent arguing playfully, the nights when he'd hold her close, feeling her heartbeat against his chest. But now, she was resolute in her stance, her silence a barrier he couldn't break through.
Murtasim wasn't one to give up easily, though. He tried to win her back in every way he could think of. He brought her favorite gajras, hoping the scent of fresh flowers would soften her heart. He even ventured out to get her beloved golgappas, which he knew she couldn't resist. But nothing worked. Meerab remained as indifferent as ever, her eyes cold and distant, as though he was nothing more than a stranger.
This distance was torture for Murtasim. It wasn't just emotional-his body ached for her too. The sight of her moving around the room, her every gesture teasing him without her even realizing it, drove him to the edge. She seemed to be doing it on purpose, prancing around in her perfectly fitted salwar kameez, swaying her hips in a way that made his breath catch in his throat.
The way her kameez hugged her curves was sinful, and the low neckline that offered him a teasing glimpse of her cleavage was almost too much to bear. Her lips, always glossy and inviting, beckoned him closer, but she never gave him the satisfaction of letting him taste them. Meerab had always been beautiful, but now, she was like a siren, seducing him with every glance, every sway of her hips, and every coy smile.
One afternoon, as Meerab was folding the laundry, which wasn't even her job, they had servants for that, Murtasim couldn't tear his eyes away from her. The way she bent down, her kameez clinging to her in all the right places, made him swallow hard. The low neckline of her kameez gave him a teasing glimpse of her cleavage. Murtasim's breath hitched, his frustration mounting. She seemed to know exactly how to tease him, bending just enough to give him a tantalizing view without ever fully exposing herself. When she stood up and absentmindedly ran her fingers through her hair, lifting it off her neck, his pulse quickened. He imagined running his hands through that silky hair, pulling her close, and inhaling her scent.
Then there was the time when she was applying her lip gloss, sitting by the dressing table. She knew he was watching her, and yet, she took her time, running the applicator over her full lips with slow, deliberate strokes. Murtasim could feel his heart race, his desire for her growing with every second. She caught his gaze in the mirror, and for a brief moment, he thought she might relent. But then she turned away, leaving him even more frustrated than before.
But it was the sight of her in the evenings that tested his resolve the most. On one particular night, she emerged from the bathroom wearing a loose robe, her hair falling in soft waves down her back. She looked like a vision of sensuality, and Murtasim couldn't help but feel a pang of longing. As she made her way to the bedroom, she let the robe fall open slightly, revealing the delicate lace of her nightgown beneath. Her movements were slow, seductive, and deliberately provocative. She glanced over her shoulder at him, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of mischief and challenge.
It was as if Meerab was punishing him deliberately, teasing him with her beauty, knowing full well how much he wanted her but denying him at every turn. His body was coiled tight with pent-up sexual frustration. Every night, as he lay on that damned couch, he could feel the ache of his unfulfilled desire, his body hard and ready for her. But Meerab remained out of reach, an elusive temptress who seemed determined to keep him at a distance.
