The night was thick with anticipation. The lights of Khan Haveli glowed dimly as the echoes of Mariyam's rukhsati faded into silence. Murtasim stood alone in the corridor, his heart racing. The small chit in his hand bore her name—Meerab. After days of tension, of cold stares and unspoken words, she had finally asked to meet him in the privacy of their bedroom. A flicker of hope surged through him, imagining that she might finally confess her love.
With an eager heart, he pushed open the door to their room. The soft candlelight illuminated the space, casting shadows on the walls. He stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind him. As he took in the familiar surroundings, a pair of slender arms wrapped around his waist from behind, catching him off guard.
“Meerab…” he whispered, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
But before he could turn around, the door creaked open, and his world shattered.
Meerab stood at the threshold, her eyes wide with shock, and then narrowing into a glare of pure fury. Her gaze locked on the figure behind Murtasim. Haya.
Murtasim froze, his mind racing to comprehend the situation. Before he could speak, Haya, with a twisted smirk, stepped forward, her hands still resting on Murtasim. “Main tumhari mohabbat mein majbur ho gayi thi,” she whispered, her voice laced with false innocence.
A deadly silence hung in the air as Meerab’s eyes filled with disgust. “Tumhari yehi aukat hai, Murtasim,” she spat out, her voice trembling with rage. “Mujhe pata tha… I was right to draft that contract.”
And then, with a swift motion, she slapped him across the face. The sound echoed through the room, reverberating in Murtasim’s ears. Her words cut deeper than the sting on his cheek, but it was her final action that broke him—she spat on him, her contempt clear.
Murtasim’s blood boiled. The humiliation, the misunderstanding, the betrayal—it all crashed over him like a wave. His fists clenched, and his vision blurred with anger. He barely heard the door slam shut as Meerab stormed out of the room. All he could feel was the rage that consumed him, a fury that demanded release, demanded retribution.
He followed her, his steps heavy with the weight of his emotions. In the privacy of their room, he caught up to her. “Tumhare liye main sab kuch kar raha hoon, Meerab,” he growled, grabbing her arm and pulling her back. “Aur tumhe sirf mera yeh ek ghalatfehmi dikhayi deti hai?”
Meerab yanked her arm away, her eyes blazing with defiance. “Ghalatfehmi? Tum aur tumhari mohabbat, dono jhooth hai, Murtasim!”
The tension between them snapped. In that moment, he lost control. The fury that had been simmering for so long, the hurt from her words, the bitterness of her rejection—it all erupted. He pushed her against the wall, his breath ragged, his mind clouded with anger.
“You don’t understand anything, Meerab,” he hissed, his hands gripping her shoulders. “You think you know me? You think you understand what I feel?”
Her eyes widened in fear, but she masked it with anger. “Choro mujhe, Murtasim! Tumhaari yeh… yeh ghatiya harkat… is this how you prove your love?”
But Murtasim was beyond reason. His heart, shattered by the sight of her disdain, fueled his actions. He kissed her roughly, forcefully, seeking some twisted validation, some acknowledgment of the emotions that tormented him. But Meerab fought back, her resistance only adding fuel to his fury. The contract, her slap, her words—they replayed in his mind, each one driving him to the brink of madness.
In that moment, he breached the contract, a pact that had once been the fragile bridge between them. His actions were driven by a mixture of rage, pain, and a desperate need to reclaim what he believed was his. The room that once held hope now bore witness to an act that would haunt him forever.
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The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a harsh reality on the aftermath. Murtasim lay beside Meerab, his body numb, his mind replaying the night’s events with sickening clarity. Guilt washed over him like a cold wave, drowning him in remorse. He couldn’t face her—couldn’t face the reality of what he had done.
Meerab was silent, her body turned away from him, her breath shallow. She had not said a word since the night, and that silence tore at Murtasim’s soul. He had wanted to prove his love, to bridge the chasm between them, but instead, he had pushed her further away—perhaps irreparably.
As he lay there, the weight of his actions suffocated him. He knew he could never undo what had been done, could never take back the pain he had inflicted. And as the first tear slipped from his eyes, Murtasim realized that he might have lost her forever—not because of Haya, or the contract, but because of the man he had become.
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The morning light seeped into the room, a stark contrast to the darkness that had settled in Murtasim’s soul. He sat on the floor, his back against the wall, staring blankly at the space where Meerab had stood hours ago. She had left without a word, her face etched with a mixture of disgust and determination.
He had lost her. He knew that now. The realization was like a dagger to his heart, the weight of his actions suffocating him. He hadn’t just lost her trust—he had destroyed it, shattered it into a million irreparable pieces.
The door creaked open, and Murtasim looked up, expecting to see Meerab, maybe hoping for some chance at redemption. But instead, two police officers stepped into the room, their expressions stern.
“Murtasim Khan, we are here to arrest you,” one of them said, his voice cold and authoritative. “There has been an FIR filed against you for sexual assault and battery.”
The words hit Murtasim like a physical blow. He staggered to his feet, his mind reeling. “FIR? Meerab… Meerab ne FIR file ki hai?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
The officer nodded grimly. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”
Murtasim’s world spun out of control. He had expected anger, expected her to hate him, but this? This was beyond anything he could have imagined. The woman he loved, the woman he had wronged, was now taking the ultimate step to punish him—to see him face justice for what he had done.
As the officers handcuffed him, Murtasim’s mind was awash with guilt, shame, and a deep, unbearable regret. He had always prided himself on being a man of honor, but in his rage, he had become the very monster he had sworn never to be. And now, he would pay the price.
As he was led out of the room, Murtasim could only think of one thing—the broken trust, the shattered love, and the irrevocable consequences of his actions. He had lost everything, not to fate or to misunderstanding, but to his own unforgivable deeds.
And as the door to Khan Haveli closed behind him, Murtasim knew that he would carry the weight of this night for the rest of his life.
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