The scorching summer afternoon enveloped Khan Haveli in a golden haze, the heat palpable even within the ancient stone walls. The soft hum of conversations drifted up from the courtyard where the elders gathered, discussing family matters over tea. The air was heavy with the familiar scent of roses, their fragrance lingering in the stifling heat, but none of it provided Murtasim with any peace of mind.
In his room, teenage Murtasim sat by the large wooden desk, pretending to study. His textbook lay open in front of him, but his gaze was fixed on the window that overlooked the garden. A low, frustrated sigh escaped his lips as he clenched his pencil tightly. He couldn’t concentrate, not when *she* was here.
Meerab.
Every time she visited the haveli with her parents, it felt like the peaceful rhythm of his life was thrown off balance. She was loud, stubborn, and always full of opinions she had no right to have. It irked him, the way she walked around with her head held high, as if she belonged here, as if she could do whatever she pleased. Worst of all, she never gave him the respect he felt he deserved as the future head of the household.
*I hate her*, he thought bitterly.
Yet, even as the words echoed in his mind, he felt something strange deep inside him, a sensation he hadn’t experienced before. It was unsettling, almost like a fire simmering beneath his skin, and it only seemed to surface when Meerab was around. He gritted his teeth, trying to shake off the feeling, but it persisted, gnawing at him.
From his window, he could hear her voice again, laughing in that carefree way she always did. She was in the garden with some of the younger cousins, her laughter clear and bright, cutting through the hot, thick air. Murtasim’s frown deepened as he stood up, abandoning the pretense of studying. He pushed the heavy chair back and made his way toward the window, peeking out between the curtains.
There she was—dressed in a light pink kurta that caught the sunlight in all the wrong ways, making her skin glow. Her hair was tied back in a loose braid, a few strands escaping to frame her face. She was animated, her hands moving as she told some story to the cousins, who were hanging on to every word she said. Even from a distance, her presence was magnetic.
Murtasim clenched his fists. He hated this. He hated that she could captivate everyone so easily. He hated that no matter how much he told himself that he despised her, there was something about her that *drew him in*. Something about her that wouldn’t let him look away.
His eyes trailed over her as she moved—her graceful hands, the subtle curve of her figure beneath the modest clothing, the way the sunlight seemed to dance off her skin. A wave of heat rushed through him, unfamiliar and intense. His breath hitched as he realized what it was.
*No. No, no, no.*
This wasn’t right. He couldn’t feel this way about her. He *hated* her.
But his body didn’t seem to care. He felt a tug deep in his gut, an unwelcome surge of attraction that made him feel hot and cold at the same time. He swallowed hard, tearing his gaze away from her, but the image of her smile, the light in her eyes, and the way her body moved refused to leave his mind.
*I’m just... annoyed. That’s all it is,* he told himself, running a hand through his hair in frustration. *She’s just getting under my skin because she’s so... irritating.*
But the fire in his veins told him otherwise.
For the first time, he was noticing things about her he had never paid attention to before. The softness of her lips when she smiled, the way her laugh seemed to echo in his ears long after it stopped, the curve of her neck as she tilted her head in thought. And the way she was so unapologetically herself—it was maddening. She was confident, fearless, even when she stood against him, even when they argued.
