The atmosphere at Khan Haveli had been light and cheerful all day, except for one small, incredibly stubborn obstacle: Meesam, their three-year-old daughter, was adamant about ignoring Murtasim. She refused to acknowledge his presence, wouldn’t let him come anywhere near Meerab, and was glued to her mother’s side, almost as if she were protecting her.
Murtasim was baffled. His precious daughter, his little princess, wasn’t even looking at him. Every time he approached her with toys, treats, or playful affection, she would cross her tiny arms, turn her head away dramatically, and cling to Meerab as if he were the enemy.
It was amusing to everyone else in the house. Mariyam and Maa Begum exchanged knowing smiles, watching the father-daughter battle play out from a distance, while Meerab tried not to laugh outright. Even Anwar found it difficult to hide his chuckles. But Murtasim? Murtasim was not amused. He loved his daughter deeply, and having her upset with him without any clear reason was driving him up the wall.
“Meerab, yeh ho kya raha hai?” Murtasim whispered, leaning in toward his wife at the dining table as Meesam kept her protective guard next to her mother. “Why is she ignoring me? What did I do?”
Meerab, her lips twitching as she fought to hold back her laughter, shrugged. “I don’t know. You must have done something.”
Murtasim frowned, his brow furrowed in frustration. "Maine toh kuch nahi kiya," he murmured defensively.
The dinner progressed awkwardly, with Meesam sitting protectively close to Meerab, her little face scrunched in a frown as she shot her father cold glares. Murtasim sighed, defeated, as he reached out to pass her some of her favorite dishes, but Meesam just pushed his hand away, choosing instead to accept the same food from Meerab.
As Murtasim sank back into his chair, sulking, Maa Begum, who had been watching the entire scene with a mixture of amusement and sympathy, decided to intervene.
“Meesam, beta,” Maa Begum said softly, “Why are you angry with your Baba? Tell Dadi, hmm? I’ll scold him for you if he did something wrong. No one can upset my granddaughter and get away with it.”
Meesam’s eyes lit up as she finally had the opportunity to voice her grievances. She turned toward her grandmother, her small finger pointing accusingly at Murtasim. “Baba bad!” she declared loudly, gaining everyone’s attention.
Murtasim, blinking in confusion, leaned in closer. "Kyun? Meesam, Baba ne kya kiya?"
Maa Begum smiled softly and patted Meesam’s head. “Haan, beta, batao Dadi ko. What did Baba do that was so bad? I’ll pull his ears if he upset you.”
Meesam, finding the perfect chance to lodge her complaint, puffed out her chest and declared with a serious tone, “Baba steals my food!”
Everyone at the table paused, confused.
Murtasim, completely lost, scratched his head. “Steals your food? Meesam, Baba never—”
Before he could finish his sentence, Meesam stamped her foot on the floor in frustration. “Yes, you do!” she cried out. “Baba drinks Mama’s milk!”
The words hung in the air for a moment, as if time itself had stopped.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Murtasim’s face drained of all color, his eyes widening in absolute horror. He turned to Meerab, who was equally as mortified, her face flushed a deep crimson as she avoided everyone’s gaze. The room felt like it had frozen in time as the reality of what Meesam had just said began to sink in.
Anwar dropped his fork with a loud clatter, his eyes darting nervously between the couple. Mariyam, trying to suppress a laugh, ended up choking on her water and coughing violently. Maa Begum, meanwhile, had gone completely still. Her eyes bulged, her face flushed, and her hands began to shake as she realized the weight of what her innocent granddaughter had just announced.
