Murtasim's breath was heavy as he tightened his grip on the headboard, moving rhythmically. Meerab's soft moans echoed through the room, a melody of shared passion. Her fingers clenched the sheets beneath her as she arched her back, her body responding to his every move. Their intimacy was a quiet, secret world where they communicated without words, only through touch, groans, and the rise and fall of their bodies in sync.
Outside, Maa Begum’s ears perked up at the unfamiliar sounds coming from Murtasim and Meerab’s room. She frowned, concern knitting her brows. “What could be happening in there? They sound like they’re in pain,” she muttered to herself. Unable to ignore it any longer, she called out to Haya, who had been lurking in the hallway as usual, her jealousy festering.
"Haya, go check on them. Make sure they're okay," Maa Begum said, her voice laced with worry.
Haya’s eyes darkened at the thought of intruding into Murtasim and Meerab’s space, but she hid her twisted delight behind a mask of concern. *Maybe they’re fighting,* she thought, *and I’ll find Meerab in a vulnerable position.* Without any hesitation, she strode toward their bedroom, pushing the door open without even the courtesy of knocking.
Her heart stopped at the sight that greeted her.
Murtasim, his strong form glistening with sweat, was hovering over Meerab, their movements unmistakable. The groans, the soft gasps—this was not a scene of conflict, but of passion. For a second, Haya stood frozen, her face contorting with shock, jealousy, and anger. Her heart clenched painfully as she realized that what they had was something she could never have.
Meerab turned her head slightly, catching sight of Haya at the door. For a moment, both she and Murtasim paused, but the fire between them didn’t die out. They exchanged a glance—silent, wordless agreement—and simply resumed as if Haya’s intrusion was nothing more than a passing breeze. Murtasim’s lips curved into a small, knowing smirk, as if the interruption amused him more than anything.
Haya shrieked, unable to contain the turmoil of emotions bubbling inside her. Turning on her heel, she fled the room, but not before casting a dark, venomous look at Meerab, her hatred seeping into every corner of her gaze. Meerab saw it, but her response was a soft, satisfied sigh, her attention never fully leaving Murtasim.
As Haya bolted out of the room, Maa Begum was waiting expectantly in the hallway. "Are they alright?" she asked, her voice laced with worry.
But Haya couldn’t answer. She stood there, her face a twisted mess of frustration and jealousy, her lips trembling as if the words were stuck inside her. She could only manage a constipated look before she fled to her own room, her eyes welling with tears.
Maa Begum blinked in confusion, watching Haya's hasty retreat. "What on earth...?" she muttered, utterly perplexed.
Maa Begum stood in the hallway, thoroughly baffled by Haya’s strange reaction. The girl's rapid departure, her constipated look, and the unshed tears were enough to unsettle anyone, but Maa Begum couldn’t make sense of it.
"What's gotten into her now?" she murmured under her breath, slowly making her way toward Murtasim and Meerab's door. She stopped just short of knocking, hesitant for the first time, her hand hovering over the wood. The sounds she heard earlier had ceased, replaced by a tense, thick silence.
Inside the room, Murtasim rested his forehead against Meerab’s, their breaths mingling in the aftermath of their shared intensity. He chuckled softly, his hand slipping away from the headboard as he pulled Meerab closer to him. "Well, that was... unexpected," he whispered, his voice low and still a little rough.
Meerab, flushed and slightly embarrassed, smacked his chest lightly. "Unexpected? That was beyond awkward! Could you have imagined Haya’s face? Ugh, of all people!" She buried her face in his neck, trying to hide the mix of amusement and mortification that was bubbling inside her.
Murtasim’s deep chuckle reverberated through his chest as he ran his fingers through her hair, his other hand tracing soft, lazy patterns on her back. "Let her run," he said dismissively, his tone light. "She's probably more embarrassed than we are."
Meerab lifted her head, narrowing her eyes playfully. "That’s not saying much, considering you didn’t even stop!" She tilted her head slightly, her smile teasing. "What happened to being the noble one, hmm?"
He grinned, his eyes dark with affection as he leaned down to kiss her forehead. "Noble? You, Meerab, have a very dangerous effect on me. It's impossible to think straight when you're around." His lips brushed hers softly, his touch full of the tenderness that always followed moments like these. "Besides, nothing can come between us—not even an intruder."
Meerab rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress her smile. Her heart felt lighter, despite the awkward interruption. "You're impossible," she murmured against his lips, kissing him softly.
As they relaxed, completely unfazed by Haya’s intrusion, Maa Begum paced outside their door. Should she check on them? Was something wrong? Haya’s face looked as though she had seen a ghost—or worse.
She hesitated once more before deciding against knocking. She had raised Murtasim well, after all, and knew he would take care of whatever was happening. Sighing deeply, she turned away and walked down the hallway.
Meanwhile, in her room, Haya was a storm of emotions. She slammed the door shut and threw herself onto the bed, her body shaking with rage. She couldn’t get the image of them together out of her head—Murtasim and Meerab, so completely engrossed in each other, so utterly unaware of her existence in that moment.
"Why her?" Haya whispered harshly, her fists clenching the fabric of her bedsheets. Tears of jealousy and frustration welled up in her eyes, spilling over despite her efforts to contain them. "It should’ve been me. I loved him first!"
But deep down, Haya knew—no matter how much she tried, no matter how desperately she schemed—Murtasim would never look at her the way he looked at Meerab. The painful truth was that she was nothing more than a shadow in their story, and the realization burned inside her like a wildfire.
She buried her face into her pillow, her sobs muffled, as the walls of the haveli, once her playground of manipulation, now seemed to close in on her, suffocating her with the weight of her unrequited obsession.
---
Maa Begum finally found herself back in the living room, her mind still puzzled by Haya’s strange behavior. She sat down, frowning slightly. Perhaps she would ask Murtasim later if everything was alright, but for now, she decided to leave it be.
Still, a small part of her couldn't help but wonder what on earth had just happened.
