The night was thick with tension. A blanket of stars dotted the sky above Khan Haveli, but no one inside paid attention to the beauty of the heavens. A storm brewed within its walls—silent, yet palpable. Murtasim paced the floor of his study, his mind consumed by thoughts of revenge, loyalty, and the weight of the responsibilities he carried on his shoulders.
It was not long ago that Malik Zubair, his sworn enemy, had tried to destroy him and his family. The feud between them had burned hotter than ever before. Zubair had lost everything—respect, power, and influence. And he blamed Murtasim for it all. But Zubair was a man who did not forget and certainly never forgave. He was like a viper, lying in wait, biding his time for the perfect moment to strike.
And now, that moment had come.
---
It was a quiet evening when Meerab stepped out of the haveli's front door to get some fresh air. Murtasim had gone into town for a business meeting, and the house, while grand, felt suffocating in his absence. She took a deep breath, enjoying the rare moment of peace. The air was crisp, filled with the scent of jasmine from the garden. She closed her eyes, trying to relax, but an unsettling feeling tugged at her gut.
Before she could even comprehend what was happening, a pair of rough hands grabbed her from behind, silencing her scream with a rag soaked in chloroform. Her vision blurred as the world around her spiraled into darkness.
---
When Meerab woke, her head throbbed with a dull, persistent ache. Her vision cleared slowly, revealing a dimly lit room. The concrete walls around her were cold and damp, a far cry from the luxury she was accustomed to at the haveli. Panic gripped her as she realized her hands were bound tightly behind her back, and her feet were shackled to the legs of a wooden chair.
She struggled against the restraints, her heart pounding in her chest. The room smelled of rust, dampness, and despair. It was a place meant to break people, not just physically, but mentally. Her pulse quickened as footsteps echoed down a hallway, growing louder by the second.
The door creaked open, and a figure stepped into the room.
Malik Zubair.
His cold, calculating eyes swept over her like a predator assessing its prey. He walked in slowly, his boots scraping against the concrete floor with deliberate menace. He was dressed in his signature black, his expression unreadable, but the glint of malice in his eyes sent a chill down her spine.
"Good evening, Mrs. Murtasim Khan," Zubair greeted her, his voice dripping with mockery.
Meerab’s breath hitched in her throat. "What do you want from me?" she demanded, her voice trembling despite her attempt to sound brave.
Zubair chuckled darkly, circling her like a predator. "You see, Meerab, your husband has made my life... very difficult. And I don’t take kindly to that."
"I have nothing to do with your feud," she snapped, fighting to keep her fear at bay.
"Oh, but you do. You are the key to bringing him to his knees," Zubair said, his tone dripping with satisfaction. "Murtasim’s pride, his strength, all come from you. And if I take you from him, I break him."
Meerab’s heart raced. She knew how much Murtasim loved her, how fiercely he would fight to protect her. And that realization filled her with a mixture of fear and hope. Fear for what Zubair would do, and hope that Murtasim would come for her.
"You won’t win," Meerab said, her voice stronger now. "Murtasim will come for me. And when he does, he’ll destroy you."
Zubair’s smile widened, his amusement clear. "I’m counting on it, Meerab. In fact, I’m looking forward to the moment he comes charging in here, thinking he can save you. It’ll be the last mistake he ever makes."
