It was a bright, sunny afternoon, and Murtasim had parked his black SUV right in front of Meesam’s play school. The sprawling playground was buzzing with children running around, their squeals of joy filling the air. Parents stood in small groups chatting, waiting for their little ones to be released from their classes. Murtasim, dressed in a crisp white shalwar kameez, cut a striking figure as he leaned against the car, checking his watch.
He smiled to himself, thinking about how excited Meesam would be when she saw him. His little girl, with her sharp wit and her adorable stubbornness, was the center of his universe. No matter how tired he was, picking her up from school was always the highlight of his day.
Just as he was lost in thoughts of how Meesam would run towards him, a voice snapped him back to reality.
*"Murtasim Sahab, how are you today?"*
He turned, internally groaning but keeping his expression polite. Mrs. Shah, the clingiest woman in the world—according to him—was making her way towards him, her daughter, Inayat, trailing behind her. Inayat was Meesam’s classmate and, unfortunately, her self-proclaimed nemesis. The rivalry between the two girls was fierce, something Murtasim hadn’t quite grasped the depth of yet.
*"Assalamu Alaikum, Mrs. Shah,"* Murtasim replied, forcing a smile as he nodded. He glanced at Inayat, who was eyeing him with that overly competitive gleam in her eyes. She was holding something behind her back, clearly up to something.
Mrs. Shah, always a little too close for comfort, chuckled. *"Wa Alaikum Assalam, Murtasim Sahab. How’s everything at home? And Meerab? You should bring her sometime when you come to pick Meesam. It’s been so long since we’ve had a chat!"*
Murtasim, ever the gentleman, nodded again. *"Yes, Insha'Allah, sometime soon."* He had no intention of ever subjecting Meerab to Mrs. Shah’s endless chatter.
Inayat stepped forward, her chest puffed out with pride. She pulled out a drawing she had clearly been holding onto for this exact moment. *"Murtasim Uncle, look! I made a drawing today!"*
Murtasim looked down at the paper, a jumble of colors and lines vaguely resembling a house, a tree, and what could have been a cat, though it looked more like a potato with whiskers.
*"That’s very nice, Inayat,"* he said, smiling politely. *"You’re very talented."*
If only he had known what that simple sentence would unleash.
Inayat’s face lit up, her little chest puffing out even more as she shot a triumphant look in the direction of the school doors. Just at that moment, the doors burst open, and a stream of kids ran out—led by none other than Meesam.
Meesam’s bright eyes scanned the crowd until they landed on her father. Her usual excitement at seeing him was dampened the moment she saw Inayat standing next to him, proudly holding up her artwork like it was a national treasure.
And then, her sharp little ears caught the tail end of her Baba’s words: *“You’re very talented.”*
The world seemed to slow down as Meesam’s small face scrunched up in disbelief. *Talented?* He had called *Inayat* talented? Her arch-nemesis, the girl who always tried to one-up her? Meesam’s eyes narrowed dangerously, her tiny fists clenching at her sides as she stomped toward them, jealousy flaring up in her chest.
*"Baba!"* Meesam's voice cut through the air like a whip, causing Murtasim to turn towards her. She stood there, arms crossed, a little frown pulling at her lips.
Murtasim’s heart melted instantly. His little lioness looked fierce but adorable, and he had no idea that a storm was brewing.
*"Meesam, meri jaan!"* He bent down, opening his arms for a hug, but Meesam did not move. Her frown deepened as she looked between Inayat and her father.
