The moon hung low in the velvet sky, its pale light filtering through the cracks of ancient stone walls. In the silence of the night, the air carried the scent of jasmine and damp earth. The dargah, a sacred place where the faithful came to bow their heads in reverence, stood like a fortress of peace and quiet amid the chaos of the city. The flickering lanterns cast soft, golden glows on the courtyard’s marbled floors, where whispers of prayer mixed with the gentle rustling of leaves in the night breeze.
Among the shadows that lurked in the corners of the dargah, one figure stood out. Murtasim Khan. Tall, broad-shouldered, and commanding, he stood with an aura that exuded quiet intensity, his dark eyes lingering over every detail around him as if he were on a hunt. To the unsuspecting eye, he was merely a man seeking solace, a devotee standing in silent communion with God. But for Murtasim, this place had become something more—something darker.
He had seen her for the first time here, amidst the flickering candles and whispers of prayer. She had knelt before the sacred tomb, her head covered with a delicate white dupatta, lost in her world, her lips moving in silent prayers. Her presence had stirred something primal within him. A hunger, a need, an obsession. Meerab.
From the moment his eyes fell upon her, she became the center of his universe. A woman so pure, so innocent, so unattainable. Her beauty was like a dagger, sharp and precise, piercing his very soul, sinking deep into the core of his being. And from that moment, he couldn’t look away. He couldn’t stop himself from thinking about her, dreaming about her, needing her.
---
Three Weeks Later
Murtasim leaned against the pillar of the courtyard, watching her again. As she always did on Fridays, Meerab came to the dargah just before the Maghrib prayers. Her quiet demeanor and reverence drew him closer every time, as if there were invisible strings that bound him to her. He would never dare approach, not yet. Watching was enough—for now.
The shadows of the night cloaked him, making him invisible as his sharp gaze followed her every move. She sat by the fountain in the courtyard, her head still covered, her eyes cast down as she silently prayed. The soft lamplight flickered across her face, casting ethereal shadows over her delicate features, making her seem almost otherworldly.
“She doesn’t know,” Murtasim muttered under his breath, his voice low, edged with a strange, possessive reverence. “She doesn’t know I’ve already claimed her.”
His fists clenched at his sides, his thoughts spiraling. She was perfection. Untouched. Untainted. Pure. He wanted her—no, he needed her. But she didn’t know he existed. How could she? She was oblivious to the eyes that followed her, to the thoughts that consumed him. The idea that she might belong to anyone else, that any other man could touch her, was unbearable. Unacceptable.
His gaze darkened, pupils dilating as the darker thoughts twisted in his mind.
“Soon,” he whispered, his breath heavy, his eyes burning with obsession. “Soon, you’ll be mine.”
---
Two Days Later
Meerab’s life followed a simple routine—college, dargah, home. She loved the tranquility of her everyday life. But recently, she had felt something unsettling. A prickling sensation on her skin, as if someone was watching her. In the streets, at her college, even at the dargah, the feeling persisted, shadowing her every step. She brushed it off as paranoia—just her imagination, she thought. But deep down, she couldn’t shake the feeling of unease.
It was a particularly quiet evening when she decided to stay at the dargah longer than usual. The place was almost deserted, except for a few regular visitors and the ever-watchful gaze of the caretakers. The moon was high, its silver light flooding the courtyard. Meerab sat near the tomb, lost in thought, her prayers long finished.
