After the little incident with Rizwan’s bold proposal, Murtasim thought the matter was over. But what he hadn’t anticipated was that the boy’s infatuation with Meerab was far from done. In fact, it only seemed to grow stronger. Wherever Meerab went during the gathering, Rizwan wasn’t far behind. And to make matters worse, Rizwan was determined to outdo Murtasim in winning Meerab’s attention and affection.
It started with small gestures.
Meerab was sitting with some relatives, sipping on tea and chatting when Rizwan came running up with a plate full of samosas. He looked up at her with his wide, innocent eyes and said, “Meerab, I brought you your favorite!”
Meerab, who wasn’t even hungry, couldn’t help but smile at his eagerness. “Aww, thank you, Rizwan. That’s very thoughtful of you.”
Rizwan beamed, as if he had won a great victory. Murtasim, who was standing nearby, raised an eyebrow. *Since when did she tell him samosas were her favorite?*
Without missing a beat, Murtasim walked over and sat down beside Meerab, his arm casually draping over the back of her chair. “Samosas, huh? I thought you preferred the kebabs,” he said smoothly, looking at Meerab with a knowing smile.
Meerab glanced between the two, immediately sensing the brewing competition. “Oh, I like both,” she said, trying to diffuse the tension. But Murtasim wasn’t about to let it go that easily.
“Well, in that case—” he signaled to one of the servants, “—bring the kebabs.”
A few moments later, a platter of perfectly grilled kebabs arrived, and Murtasim leaned in closer to Meerab. “I remember how much you enjoyed these last time,” he said in a low voice, his eyes glinting with a mischievous challenge. “I thought I’d bring them for you myself.”
Meerab gave him an amused look, catching on to his game. “Thank you, Murtasim,” she said, her tone light. She picked up a kebab and took a bite, much to Rizwan’s dismay.
The little boy frowned, his lips pressing into a pout. “But Meerab, I brought the samosas,” he said, tugging on her sleeve.
Meerab chuckled softly and ruffled his hair. “I know, Rizwan. And I’m going to eat those too, don’t worry.”
Satisfied for the moment, Rizwan plopped down on the other side of Meerab, crossing his arms with a triumphant smile. Murtasim, however, wasn’t done yet. He shot the boy a look, as if to say, *This isn’t over, kid.*
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The competition didn’t stop at food. As the day went on, both Murtasim and Rizwan seemed to be locked in a tug-of-war for Meerab’s attention.
When Meerab stood up to stretch her legs and walk around the garden, Rizwan was right beside her, holding her hand as they strolled through the flowers. Murtasim followed at a distance, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the little boy practically glued to her side.
“Meerab, can I show you something?” Rizwan asked excitedly, tugging her toward the old treehouse that had been built for the kids in the family.
“Of course,” Meerab said, indulging him. She gave Murtasim a playful glance as if to say, *Look how cute he is.*
Murtasim wasn’t amused.
As they reached the treehouse, Rizwan pointed proudly. “I can climb all the way up! Do you want to see?”
Meerab laughed softly. “Be careful, Rizwan. I don’t want you getting hurt.”
But before the boy could start his climb, Murtasim stepped in. “That’s a bit high for someone your age, don’t you think?” he said, eyeing the wooden structure. “Why don’t you let me show Meerab instead?”
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