The sound of laughter filtered through the hallways of the haveli, but it wasn’t the kind that brought comfort to Murtasim. His jaw clenched as he recognized the voice—it was Haya. She had been lingering around Meerab for the past few days, like a vulture circling prey, whispering lies and poisoning her mind against him. Every time he saw them together, the rage in his chest built like a storm, threatening to break free.
Standing in the corridor, hidden from their view, Murtasim watched as Haya stood beside Meerab, her body language relaxed, confident, as though she had already won. He saw how she leaned in close, her voice sickly sweet as she spoke to Meerab, who seemed visibly confused and torn. He couldn’t hear the exact words, but he didn’t need to. He knew exactly what Haya was doing—driving a wedge deeper between them.
Enough.
Murtasim’s entire body tensed, his fists clenching at his sides as the anger he had been holding back for so long finally surged to the surface. He couldn’t watch Haya manipulate Meerab any longer, couldn’t let her fill his wife’s mind with lies and deceit.
Without a second thought, he strode toward them, his footsteps heavy, determined. The sound of his approach caused Haya to freeze, and her eyes widened when she saw the fury etched on his face.
“Murtasim!” Haya exclaimed, her voice laced with fake innocence. “What—what are you—”
“Get away from her,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous, each word sharp like a blade. His eyes were fixed on Haya, burning with barely contained rage.
Meerab, startled by the sudden change in atmosphere, looked between them, her confusion growing. She had never seen Murtasim like this—so angry, so volatile. It only added to the chaos swirling in her mind.
“Murtasim, what’s wrong?” Meerab asked, her voice shaky, her wide eyes filled with uncertainty.
But Murtasim didn’t take his eyes off Haya. “I warned you, Haya,” he hissed, his voice trembling with barely restrained fury. “I told you to stay away from her.”
Haya’s eyes darted to Meerab, her expression momentarily faltering, but she quickly composed herself, feigning concern. “Murtasim, I’m just trying to help her,” she said softly, the sweetness in her voice making him sick. “She’s confused. She deserves to know the truth.”
“The truth?” Murtasim’s voice was a low, dangerous growl. He took a step closer to Haya, towering over her. “You mean the lies you’ve been feeding her? You’ve done enough damage already.”
Haya’s facade of innocence faltered, and she took a step back, her expression hardening. “I’m not the one responsible for her condition, Murtasim,” she said, her voice dripping with malice. “You are. You’re the reason she’s like this. You’re the one who put her in that car, and now you’re trying to force her into a life she doesn’t remember.”
“Enough!” Murtasim roared, his voice echoing through the hall. The tension in the air was suffocating, thick with unspoken anger and resentment.
Meerab flinched at his outburst, her heart pounding in her chest. The intensity of the confrontation was too much—too overwhelming. She didn’t know who to trust, didn’t know who was telling the truth. Everything was so confusing, so tangled, and she felt like she was drowning in a sea of uncertainty.
“I… I can’t do this,” Meerab muttered under her breath, her hands trembling as she backed away from the two of them. “I need… I need space.”
Her voice was barely audible over the thudding of her heart, but Murtasim heard it, and his anger immediately evaporated, replaced by concern.
“Meerab, wait—” he began, reaching out for her.
But she shook her head, taking another step back, her breathing rapid and uneven. “Please,” she whispered, her voice broken. “Just… just leave me alone.”
And with that, she turned and hurried down the hallway, disappearing into her room and leaving Murtasim standing there, his hand still outstretched toward her, his heart shattering into a million pieces.
Haya, standing beside him, allowed a small, satisfied smirk to play on her lips, but Murtasim caught it, his eyes narrowing dangerously. He turned toward her, the rage he had barely kept in check threatening to explode once again.
“If you come near her again,” he said, his voice low and deadly, “I swear on everything I hold dear, I will make you regret it.”
Haya’s smile faltered, but she quickly recovered, lifting her chin in defiance. “You can’t stop her from finding out the truth,” she said, her voice dripping with venom. “You can’t stop me.”
Murtasim didn’t respond. Instead, he turned on his heel and stormed off in the opposite direction, leaving Haya standing alone in the hallway, her smirk fading as she watched him disappear.
---
Meerab slammed the door to her room shut behind her, leaning against it as she tried to calm her racing heart. Her mind was a whirlwind of confusion, anger, and fear. She had seen the way Murtasim had looked at Haya, the way he had lashed out. Was Haya right? Was Murtasim trying to control her? Manipulate her? She didn’t know what to believe anymore.
The room felt suffocating, the walls closing in around her. She stumbled toward the bed, her legs feeling weak beneath her. Collapsing onto the soft mattress, she buried her face in her hands, trying to make sense of the chaotic thoughts swirling in her mind.
As her hands brushed against the bedside table, her fingers grazed something—something sharp and papery. Confused, she lifted her head and glanced down, her eyes falling on a folded piece of paper lying on the bedside table.
Curiosity piqued, she reached for it and unfolded the paper slowly, her eyes scanning the words printed on the page. Her brow furrowed in confusion as she read the document in front of her.
It was a contract.
She blinked, her mind racing as she tried to make sense of what she was looking at. A marriage contract. Her marriage contract with Murtasim.
Her breath hitched as she read through the clauses, her heart sinking as the weight of it all began to settle on her shoulders. One particular clause stood out, sending a chill down her spine—the one where she had apparently made it clear that she didn’t want a relationship with Murtasim, that their marriage was one of convenience.
Her hand trembled as she held the paper, her mind spinning with a thousand questions. What kind of marriage had they really had? Was Haya right all along? Was she forced into this life?
The answers she sought seemed further away than ever, and the only person who could give them to her—the one person who was supposed to be her anchor—was the same man she feared she couldn’t trust.
