The cool breeze of Hyderabad's evening swept through the open window of their bedroom, rustling the delicate lace curtains. Murtasim sat at the edge of the bed, eyes narrowing slightly as he watched Meerab across the room, buried in a thick book, her brows furrowed in concentration. It had been weeks since their wedding, and while Meerab had settled into her role as his wife in the Khan Haveli, there was still one massive obstacle between them: The Contract. That cursed piece of paper she had insisted on, setting the boundaries of their marriage.
Murtasim tapped his fingers against the wood of the bed, biting the inside of his cheek. This was getting ridiculous. They were husband and wife, yet it felt more like an awkward arrangement between housemates. He wasn't asking for much—just a little affection, a smile, maybe even—dare he dream—a hug. He smirked to himself, straightening his posture. It was time to turn on the charm. He was Murtasim Khan, after all. Who could resist him?
Clearing his throat, he strolled towards Meerab, attempting to look casual, like a lion on the prowl.
"Meerab?" His voice was soft, teasing, the kind of tone that usually had women hanging on to his every word.
She didn’t even look up from her book.
Murtasim’s smile faltered slightly. No matter. He would try again. He leaned closer, his arm brushing against hers as he sat on the sofa beside her, his face close to hers. "You’ve been reading that book for hours. Don’t you want to spend time with your handsome husband instead?" He emphasized 'handsome' with a cocky grin, throwing in a wink for good measure.
Meerab, without missing a beat, flipped another page of her book and gave a short, dry laugh. "Handsome, huh? Well, lucky for you, the contract doesn’t mention I have to agree with that."
Murtasim’s grin turned into a frown. He leaned in a little closer, dropping his voice to a husky whisper, "Meerab, contracts are for lawyers. Love is for husbands and wives." He watched her face carefully, hoping for a blush, a crack in her armor, anything.
Nothing. Meerab simply turned another page, unfazed. "Contracts are to protect one's interests," she replied, her voice as cool as the evening breeze. "And this one seems to be protecting mine very well."
Murtasim let out a dramatic sigh, dramatically flopping back on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. "Meerab, kitna tyaar karta hoon main tumhe. I thought by now you'd be falling for me—" he cast her a playful sideways glance, "just like every other girl who has ever laid eyes on me."
She finally glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. "Every other girl? Really? What makes you think I’m like them?"
Murtasim grinned, sensing he had her attention. "Because," he said, leaning closer, "they didn’t have the honor of being married to me." He emphasized the word 'honor' like it was some sort of privilege.
Meerab snorted, hiding her smile behind her book. "Congratulations, then. You’ve found the one woman in the world immune to your so-called ‘charms.’”
"Yet." He wagged a finger at her, his smile growing wider. "You’re immune yet. Give it time, Meerab. You’ll see."
Meerab closed her book with an audible snap, setting it aside before turning to fully face him, her expression unreadable. "Murtasim, tum samajhte kyun nahi? The contract—"
"—is a piece of paper," he interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. "But we are more than that."
"It’s a contract, Murtasim," she said, her voice firmer now. "I agreed to this marriage with conditions, and you agreed to respect them."
Murtasim crossed his arms, huffing like a child denied his favorite toy. "The contract is suffocating me, Meerab! It’s like I have to ask for permission to breathe in the same room as you."
"You signed it," she pointed out, completely unbothered.
"I was coerced," he shot back, the dramatics in his voice reaching new levels. "You threatened me with those big, angry eyes of yours."
She rolled her eyes, picking up her book again, effectively dismissing him. "I didn’t threaten you."
"You glared. It’s the same thing."
Meerab tried to stifle a giggle, but Murtasim caught it. His eyes gleamed. Oh, she was cracking. He scooted closer, a triumphant smirk forming on his lips. "Admit it, Meerab. You think I’m charming."
She raised the book higher, covering her face. "Nope."
"Handsome?"
"No."
Murtasim leaned even closer, his lips almost brushing her ear as he whispered, "Then why do I catch you stealing glances at me when you think I’m not looking?"
Meerab stiffened, the tips of her ears turning red. "I do not—"
"—Oh, but you do," Murtasim cut in, leaning back with a satisfied smile. "I’m not blind, Meerab. You like what you see."
She opened her mouth to retort, but the words caught in her throat. Her eyes darted away, and she fumbled with the corner of her book. He grinned wider, sensing victory. He lifted his hand to gently tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her skin just a moment longer than necessary. "I’ll give you one thing, Meerab. You’re good at pretending you don’t feel anything. But sooner or later…"
"Later," she cut in quickly, standing up and putting distance between them. "Much later."
Murtasim followed her movements with his eyes, not bothering to hide his amused smile. "You can run, Meerab, but you can’t hide from what’s between us."
She turned to him, one eyebrow raised, arms crossed defensively. "The only thing between us is the contract."
His eyes darkened slightly, but his lips still held that teasing smile. "We’ll see about that." He stood up, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeves, walking towards the door.
Just as he reached the threshold, he paused, turning his head slightly to throw her one last grin. "Oh, and Meerab?"
She looked at him, suspicion in her eyes. "What now?"
"One day, you’ll beg me to break that contract."
With that, he walked out, leaving her standing there, her heart thudding in her chest and her mind racing. She shook her head, muttering under her breath, "That man is impossible."
But even as she tried to refocus on her book, her thoughts kept drifting back to him—his teasing words, his infuriating smirks, and the way his fingers had felt when they’d brushed against her skin.
Maybe… just maybe… this contract wouldn’t last forever.
But she wasn’t going to admit that just yet.
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