The night was eerily silent as Meerab sat by the window, her eyes fixated on the moonlit courtyard below. Her heart was heavy, her mind racing with the images she couldn’t erase. She had seen something today—something that gnawed at her insides, twisting her emotions into a knot she couldn’t untangle.
The door creaked open, and she stiffened. She didn’t need to look to know it was Murtasim. His presence filled the room, his footsteps soft as he approached. There was always an air of quiet strength about him, but tonight, it felt oppressive.
"Meerab," he called softly, his voice tinged with concern. "What are you doing sitting here so late?"
She didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she kept her gaze outside, her mind replaying the scene she had witnessed earlier—the way Haya had stood too close, how her hand had lingered on his arm, and how Murtasim hadn’t pulled away immediately. It was just a moment, a brief interaction, but it was enough to send a wave of doubt through her heart.
Murtasim moved closer, standing behind her, his hand brushing her shoulder. "Meerab?" His voice was gentler now, sensing the shift in her mood.
She swallowed hard, her emotions threatening to spill over, but she stayed quiet for a moment longer, unsure of how to confront what was clawing at her. Finally, she stood up, turning to face him, her eyes dark with hurt.
“I saw you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Murtasim frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”
Her gaze hardened, her hands balling into fists at her sides. “I saw you with Haya… earlier today.”
At the mention of Haya’s name, Murtasim’s face changed, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. He quickly schooled his expression, but Meerab had already seen it. That split second of hesitation was enough to make her heart sink further.
“What exactly did you see?” he asked, his tone careful, almost too controlled.
Meerab crossed her arms, her voice shaking despite her best efforts to remain composed. "I saw her touch you... and you didn’t pull away. You stood there, letting her invade your space as if it didn’t mean anything."
Murtasim exhaled sharply, his brows furrowing as he realized where this was headed. "Meerab, you’re misunderstanding—"
"I’m not misunderstanding!" she snapped, stepping back as he tried to approach her. "I saw it with my own eyes, Murtasim! You and Haya, standing there like—" She stopped, unable to continue. Her voice cracked, the betrayal she felt seeping into her words.
Murtasim’s jaw clenched, frustration and guilt mixing in his expression. He stepped forward, his hands reaching out, but Meerab took another step back. "Meerab, listen to me. It’s not what you think."
She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "How many times do I have to hear that, Murtasim? It’s always ‘not what I think.’ But it’s always Haya. She’s always there, always trying to come between us, and you—" Her voice broke as tears welled in her eyes. "You just let her."
Murtasim's face tightened, and his hands balled into fists. He didn’t like where this conversation was heading, but he knew he had to fix this before it spiraled out of control.
"I didn’t *let* her do anything," he said firmly, his voice low but steady. "Yes, Haya touched my arm, and I didn’t react the way you wanted me to. But that doesn’t mean anything, Meerab. I would never—" He stopped, taking a deep breath before continuing. "I would never betray you."
Meerab’s lips trembled as she held back her tears. "But you didn’t stop her, Murtasim. You didn’t stop her from getting close to you, from touching you like—" She trailed off, her voice breaking. "Like you belong to her."
Murtasim’s heart clenched at the sight of her, the raw pain in her eyes tearing at his own resolve. He took another step forward, this time not allowing her to retreat. His hand reached out, gently cupping her face, forcing her to look into his eyes.
"Meerab," he said softly, his voice breaking through her defenses. "I *don’t* belong to her. I never have, and I never will. I belong to *you*. Only you."
Her breath hitched, her eyes searching his for the truth, for something to hold onto in the midst of her swirling emotions.
"Then why does she keep coming between us?" she whispered, her voice fragile, as if she couldn’t bear the weight of her own words. "Why does she think she has any right to you?"
Murtasim exhaled slowly, his fingers gently stroking her cheek. "Because Haya has her own delusions, Meerab. She thinks she knows what’s best for me, but she doesn’t. She never has." His gaze softened, his thumb brushing away the tear that escaped her eye. "You’re the one I love. You’re the one I chose, and I will *always* choose you."
Meerab closed her eyes, leaning into his touch for a brief moment, her heart torn between the pain of what she had seen and the truth she wanted to believe. His words were sincere, but the hurt was still fresh, the doubt still gnawing at her.
"Then why does it feel like I’m constantly fighting for your attention?" she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why does it feel like Haya has a hold on you that I can’t break?"
Murtasim’s heart twisted at her words, and he pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her tightly. "You don’t have to fight, Meerab. You never did." He rested his forehead against hers, his voice barely a murmur. "Haya doesn’t have a hold on me. She never has, and she never will. You’re the one who holds my heart."
Meerab’s eyes fluttered open, her breath mingling with his as she stared into his eyes, searching for any sign of deceit. But all she saw was sincerity—raw, unfiltered love that made her heart ache even more.
"I’m sorry," he whispered, his voice filled with regret. "I should’ve been clearer with Haya. I should’ve set stronger boundaries. But don’t doubt my love for you, Meerab. Don’t ever doubt that."
She swallowed hard, her throat tight with emotion. "I just... I don’t want to lose you."
"You won’t," he promised, his lips brushing her forehead in a tender kiss. "You’ll never lose me. I’m yours, Meerab. Always."
Meerab let out a shaky breath, her hands clutching onto his shirt as she buried her face in his chest. Murtasim held her close, his arms encircling her protectively, his heart aching for the pain he had unintentionally caused.
And as they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the night slowly faded into dawn, the moon giving way to the first rays of sunlight. In that quiet moment, Meerab allowed herself to believe him—allowed herself to trust that, no matter what, Murtasim was hers.
And no one, not even Haya, could come between them.
