As the morning light streamed through the cracks in the wooden shutters of the small hut, it fell directly onto Murtasim’s face. The warmth stirred him from his slumber, and his brow furrowed as he squinted against the brightness. Groggily, he rubbed his eyes, blinking away the haze of sleep. His body felt sore from sleeping on the cold, hard floor, but his thoughts weren’t focused on his discomfort. His first instinct was to turn towards the bed where Meerab had been sleeping.
His gaze shifted, but his brow furrowed when he saw the bed. It was empty.
Confused, Murtasim sat up, his eyes sweeping the room for any sign of her. “Meerab?” he called out, his voice hoarse from sleep. There was no response. A strange sensation began to settle in his chest—unease, followed by a trickle of anxiety.
He stood up quickly, his heart beginning to pound harder. “Meerab?” he called again, louder this time, but the only sound that greeted him was the soft rustling of the wind against the shutters. He crossed the small room in long strides, checking the corners, though there were few places to hide. His eyes darted from the bed to the cupboard, to the small pile of belongings they had stashed away. Everything was as they had left it the night before, except for one thing: Meerab was gone.
“Where could she have gone?” he muttered to himself, his heart racing. His mind whirred with possibilities. He pushed open the door of the hut, stepping outside into the soft morning light, squinting against the sun. The village was still quiet, with only a few early risers tending to their morning chores. He scanned the small settlement from the doorstep, hoping to catch a glimpse of her walking among the other women.
But there was no sign of her.
Maybe she’s with Sakeena Bibi, he thought, trying to calm his growing panic. Sakeena, the kind village woman who had helped them after the river incident, was one of the few people they had grown to trust. If Meerab had gone anywhere, it would likely be to her.
Murtasim wasted no time and hurried across the dusty path that led to Sakeena’s small hut. He knocked on the door with more force than he intended, a rising urgency behind every movement. The door creaked open to reveal the elderly woman, her lined face a mixture of surprise and confusion.
“Murtasim beta, what’s the matter? Why are you knocking like the devil’s at your heels?” she asked, pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders.
“Meerab… she’s gone,” Murtasim blurted out, his voice tight with worry. “Have you seen her this morning? Did she come to you?”
Sakeena Bibi’s expression shifted to one of concern, her brows knitting together. “Gone? No, she hasn’t come by. What do you mean, she’s gone?”
“She wasn’t in the hut when I woke up. I thought maybe she came to you or… or went to the well with the other women,” Murtasim explained, but even as he spoke, he felt the weight of dread settling deeper into his chest. The words felt hollow, as though he were grasping at straws.
Sakeena shook her head, stepping out of the doorway and looking around the quiet village herself. “No, beta. I haven’t seen her. She didn’t mention going anywhere last night either. Are you sure she didn’t step out early? Maybe she’s by the river?”
Murtasim shook his head, a knot tightening in his stomach. “I’ve checked the entire hut, Sakeena Bibi. She’s nowhere to be found.”
The older woman’s face paled. “Yeh toh bohat bura hai. We should look for her.”
Together, they began asking around the village, hoping someone had seen Meerab. The villagers looked at them with wary eyes, their curiosity piqued by the urgency in Murtasim’s voice. But no one had seen her since the night before. Whispers began to spread among the people, quiet at first, but growing louder as more villagers gathered to discuss what had happened.
