The grand dining room of the Khan family haveli was resplendent with the warm glow of hanging lanterns, casting soft shadows that danced across the intricately woven rugs. The rich aroma of traditional Pakistani dishes-biryani, kebabs, and fresh naan-mingled in the air, enticing everyone to gather around the grand dining table. At the heart of the commotion was little Meesam, the three-year-old daughter of Meerab and Murtasim, perched proudly in her high chair. Her chubby cheeks were smeared with baby food, and she was enthusiastically flinging bits of it around, much to the delight of her doting family.
The room was abuzz with affectionate laughter as everyone fawned over Meesam's adorable antics. Meerab, her face glowing with maternal pride, gently wiped away the mess from Meesam's face, while Murtasim watched his daughter with a tender gaze, his heart swelling with love. Maa Begum, ever the matriarch, observed her granddaughter with a mixture of adoration and contemplative intent.
Turning her gaze from Meesam, Maa Begum fixed her eyes on Meerab and Murtasim, a slight twinkle of mischief in her gaze. "Mashallah se, Meesam bahut pyaari hai aur sab usse bada pyar bhi karte hai," she began, her voice warm and affectionate. The compliment was met with grateful smiles from Meerab and Murtasim.
But Maa Begum's tone shifted subtly as she continued, "Par tumhe nahi lagta Meesam ab akela mehsoos karti hai? Usse bhi koi saath khelne waala chahiye." Her words, though cloaked in casual conversation, carried an unmistakable undertone.
Meerab, absorbed in her task of cleaning Meesam's messy face, responded absentmindedly, "Kon chahiye Maa Begum? Yeh shaitaan poore ghar ko toh apne peeche laga ke rakhti hai."
Maa Begum sighed, recognizing the need for clarity. "Mera matlab hai, Meesam ko ek bhai ya behen ki zarurat hai."
The statement took Meerab by surprise. Her cheeks flushed with a sudden rush of heat, and she turned to Murtasim, who was seated across from her. His gaze was intense, filled with a smoldering mixture of desire and amusement. The cocky smirk on his face was impossible to ignore-he seemed more than ready to entertain his mother's hint.
Meerab, flustered, stammered, "Maa Begum, abhi toh Meesam bahut chhoti hai. Abhi ek aur bachha manage karna mushkil hoga, aur Murtasim bhi abhi ready nahi hai... Hain na, Murtasim?"
Murtasim, not missing a beat and reveling in the playful banter, replied with a cheeky grin, "Agar meri beti ko bhai ya behen chahiye toh mujhe toh koi aitraaz nahi. Aakhir Meesam ki har khwahish puri karna mera farz hai."
Meerab's eyes widened in shock, and she felt the heat rising in her cheeks. Mariyam, sitting beside her, struggled to suppress a laugh and discreetly coughed into her napkin. Naurez, amused by the exchange, passed Mariyam a glass of water. Anwar, seated quietly at the end of the table, looked on with a mix of discomfort and uncertainty, unsure whether to intervene.
Maa Begum, unfazed, continued to press the issue. "Dekho, Murtasim bhi raazi hai. Aur tumhari beti itni bhi chhoti nahi hai. Aur hum sab hain na uska khayal rakhne ke liye."
Meerab, attempting to counter, suddenly felt a warm, insistent pressure brushing up and down her calf. She froze, realizing it was Murtasim's foot, sliding suggestively under the table. His eyes, fixed on her with a mischievous gleam, spoke volumes of his desire.
Meerab choked on her breath, discreetly kicking him under the table, but Murtasim continued his footsie game, his expression a mask of innocent focus as he engaged Naurez in a discussion about business.
The sensation of Murtasim's foot on her leg was both thrilling and maddening. Meerab squirmed in her seat, trying to hide her discomfort. Maa Begum noticed her flushed face and looked concerned. "Meerab beta, kya hua? Tum theek ho? Tumhara chehra poora laal ho gaya hai."
Murtasim, turning with a faux-concerned expression, asked, "Meerab, kya hua? Tum theek ho?"
Meerab shot him a glare that could have set fire to steel, and, in an effort to maintain composure, said, "Kuch nahi Maa Begum, bas thodi si thakaan hai. Main thodi der ja kar kamre mein aaram kar leti hun."
She stood up abruptly, eager to escape the situation, but Maa Begum's voice halted her. "Murtasim, jao Meerab ke saath kamre mein jao aur dekho usse kisi cheez ki zarurat toh nahi hai. Uska khayal rakho."
Murtasim's eyes sparkled with a mixture of relief and eagerness as he nodded. "Jee Maa Begum," he replied, his tone laced with sincerity as he followed Meerab.
As they entered their bedroom, Murtasim, unable to contain his desires, pressed Meerab against the wall, his voice low and seductive. "Waise Maa Begum ne sahi kaha, Meesam waqai mein bahut akeli ho gayi hai."
Before he could kiss her, an irritated Meerab pushed him away. "Hmm, sahi kaha, akela toh woh feel kar rahi hai. Isiliye ab se woh humare saath issi kamre main soyegi."
Murtasim's eyes widened in shock. The prospect of having Meesam in their room meant a significant compromise on their intimate moments. Desperate, Murtasim tried to persuade Meerab, his voice tinged with frustration, "Kya yeh zaroori hai? Hum phir kabhi...?"
Meerab, with a sarcastic smile, retorted, "Aur aaj toh woh dopahar mein so gayi thi, toh ab saari raat jagegi. Toh be ready... Waise bhi tumhe phir se baap banne ka kuch zyada hi shauk hai na? Toh ab bano baap."
With that, she left to change into her nightclothes, leaving Murtasim feeling utterly dejected. His shoulders slumped as he put his head in his hands, realizing he had walked straight into a trap of his own making. The room seemed to close in on him, filled with the echoes of his own frustration and defeat.
As Meerab emerged from the bathroom, her demeanor calm and composed, Murtasim knew he had no choice but to accept the situation he had unwittingly created. He could only lament his ill-fated attempt at seduction and prepare for the challenging night ahead.
