The room was dimly lit by the faint glow of the moon filtering through the cracks in the wooden shutters. The small space was quiet, but the tension in the air was thick, and Murtasim, though seemingly relaxed on the floor, couldn't help but feel that something was off. He had been stealing glances at Meerab for a while now, watching the way she fidgeted, the restless shifting of her body beneath the thin blanket, and the silent tremble in her hands.
He turned his head towards her, his brow furrowing in concern. “You’re still awake,” he said softly, his voice a low murmur that barely cut through the stillness.
Meerab flinched at his words, her eyes darting toward him for a brief second before quickly turning away, as if trying to hide the distress etched across her features. She bit her lip, her fingers clutching the edge of the blanket tightly, knuckles white from the pressure.
Murtasim propped himself up on his elbow, his eyes gentle as he studied her. “Are you in some kind of trouble, Meera? Those men... they’re no ordinary bandits or dacoits. They’re looking for you. That much is obvious.” His tone was calm but probing, and he didn’t miss the way her shoulders tensed at his words. “So, either you’ve done something, or you know something you’re not supposed to.”
Meerab’s breath hitched, and she turned sharply to face him, her eyes blazing with anger, though they were glossed with unshed tears. “I am not answerable to you,” she snapped, her voice shaking with barely concealed emotion. “I didn’t ask for your help! You forced yourself into this situation, so don’t act like I owe you any explanations.” Her voice wavered, but her defiance was clear. “If you’re scared, you’re free to run. I’m not your responsibility.”
Her words cut through the silence, but Murtasim didn’t react with anger or frustration. Instead, he lay there, watching her with a look of soft tenderness. He could see the way her body trembled, the way her lips pressed together to stop a sob from escaping. She was scared—terrified, even—and as much as she tried to put up a strong front, the weight of her fear was undeniable.
The sight of her like this—so vulnerable, so broken—did something to him. It made his heart clench with a pain he didn’t recognize, a strange protectiveness he hadn’t felt before.
He slowly sat up, his voice dropping to a soothing whisper. “You don’t have to tell me anything if you’re not ready,” he said, his tone gentle, almost comforting. “But I’m not going to abandon you. No matter what trouble you’re in, I won’t leave you to face it alone.”
Meerab turned her head sharply, her eyes wide with surprise. She stared at him, stunned by his words, as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. The tension in her shoulders eased just a little, and though she didn’t say anything, Murtasim could see the slight shift in her expression—the smallest trace of relief.
For a moment, they just looked at each other in the quiet room, the air between them heavy with unspoken words. Murtasim, sensing the moment becoming too intense, decided to lighten the mood in the only way he knew how—with an inappropriate joke.
“Of course,” he said with a sly grin, “I wouldn’t mind being your knight in shining armor if you offered a proper reward.” His eyes gleamed mischievously. “You know, a kiss for the hero wouldn’t be too much to ask.”
Meerab’s stunned expression quickly turned into one of offended outrage. Without missing a beat, she grabbed the pillow next to her and swung it at him, hitting him square in the face. “You’re impossible!” she exclaimed, her voice indignant, though there was a flicker of amusement behind her words.
Murtasim burst out laughing, the sound low and rich as he leaned back on his elbows, thoroughly entertained by her reaction. She, on the other hand, turned her back to him in a huff, pulling the blanket over her shoulder as if to shield herself from his teasing. “Goodnight,” she muttered, though her voice lacked the sharpness it had moments before.
Still chuckling, Murtasim settled back down on his makeshift bed, his laughter dying down to a soft, satisfied hum. He could still see the slight flush on her cheeks from the corner of his eye, and something about it made him smile.
“Oh, Meera,” he said quietly, more to himself than to her, “you’re going to make this journey a lot more interesting.”
He lay there for a moment longer, the smile still playing on his lips, before closing his eyes, content in the knowledge that despite her protests, she was slowly beginning to trust him. And though he wouldn’t admit it, that realization made his heart feel lighter than it had in a long time.
