The night had settled over the Khan Haveli, wrapping the world in a veil of stillness and moonlight. Inside their bedroom, Murtasim sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes glued to the woman standing in front of the mirror. He had always known that Meerab was beautiful. From the very first moment he had laid eyes on her, something deep inside him stirred, a restlessness that had only grown stronger since they had been forced into this complicated marriage.
But tonight… tonight was different. Tonight, she looked ethereal. The moonlight filtering through the curtains cast a soft glow on her skin, illuminating her in a way that made her seem almost otherworldly. She was wearing a simple white dress, one that hugged her figure just right, and her hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders. She was brushing her fingers through her hair, completely unaware of the effect she had on him.
Murtasim couldn’t tear his eyes away.
There was something about the way she moved—the delicate arch of her neck, the way her lashes fluttered against her cheeks as she blinked, the soft curve of her lips—that was utterly captivating. He had seen her angry, he had seen her stubborn, and he had seen her vulnerable. But right now, in this quiet moment, she was… perfect.
Without even realizing it, words began to form in his mind. Words he hadn’t thought about in years. Words of longing, of beauty, of a love that was both impossible and inevitable.
“Dil-e-nadan tujhe hua kya hai?”
“Aakhir is dard ki dawa kya hai?”
The soft whisper of his voice broke through the silence, and Meerab froze, her brush pausing in mid-air. She turned to look at him, her eyes wide with surprise. “What did you say?”
Murtasim didn’t answer immediately. He simply stood up from the bed, his gaze never leaving hers, and took a slow step toward her. His heart pounded in his chest, but his voice was steady as he continued.
“Humko unse wafa ki hai umeed,”
“Jo nahi jaante wafa kya hai…”
The air between them seemed to shift, thickening with the weight of the unsaid. Meerab’s heart skipped a beat as she watched him approach, her breath catching in her throat. She had never seen him like this before—so… raw. So vulnerable. There was a depth in his eyes, an intensity that made her pulse quicken.
“What are you doing?” she whispered, but her voice was barely audible.
Murtasim stopped just in front of her, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off his body, but not close enough to touch. His eyes traced the contours of her face, lingering on her lips for a moment before meeting her gaze again.
“Ishq par zor nahi hai ye woh aatish Ghalib,”
“Jo lagaye na lage, aur bujhaye na bane.”
Her lips parted in a soft gasp. The words hung in the air between them, charged with a meaning that went beyond mere poetry. She had heard those lines before, but never like this. Never spoken with such tenderness, such longing.
“Murtasim…” Her voice was barely a whisper.
He took another step closer, his hand reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair behind her ear. The touch was so gentle, so reverent, it made her shiver. His fingers lingered there, just behind her ear, as if he couldn’t bear to pull away.
“I’ve always known you were beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, “but tonight… you take my breath away.”
Meerab’s heart fluttered in her chest, her eyes searching his for any trace of the man who so often challenged her, frustrated her, fought with her. But he wasn’t there. Not tonight. Tonight, there was only Murtasim—the man who loved her, the man who had been captivated by her from the moment they met, even if he had never admitted it.
She didn’t know what to say. Her mind was spinning, her emotions a whirlwind of confusion, disbelief, and something else… something she wasn’t quite ready to name.
Murtasim, sensing her hesitation, stepped back slightly, giving her space but never breaking eye contact. He smiled softly, his expression one of both amusement and admiration. “You always look at me like I’m about to start an argument,” he teased gently, “but not tonight, Meerab. Tonight, I just want to look at you.”
Meerab blinked, caught off guard by his sudden vulnerability. She felt her cheeks heat up under his gaze, and she turned away, trying to compose herself. But Murtasim wasn’t going to let her escape that easily. He reached out, gently taking her hand in his, and pulled her back toward him.
“Murtasim, what are you—”
He interrupted her with another soft recitation, this time his voice barely more than a whisper against the soft hum of the night.
“Koi umeed bar nahi aati,”
“Koi soorat nazar nahi aati…”
The words sent a shiver down her spine. She had always loved Ghalib’s poetry, but hearing it now, spoken by Murtasim in such an intimate moment, made her feel things she wasn’t sure she was ready to feel.
Her heart raced in her chest as she looked up at him, her lips parting as if to speak, but no words came out.
Murtasim’s thumb gently traced circles on the back of her hand, his eyes never leaving hers. “I’ve loved you for a long time, Meerab,” he admitted quietly, his voice carrying a weight that made her heart ache. “Even before we were married. Even before I knew I would ever have the chance to stand this close to you. I’ve loved you… and I’ve been a coward because I was afraid.”
“Afraid of what?” Meerab’s voice trembled, her chest tight with the emotion that was building inside her.
“Afraid that you’d never feel the same,” Murtasim said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Afraid that no matter how much I tried, I’d never be enough for you.”
Meerab’s breath hitched, and she opened her mouth to say something—anything—but the words were stuck in her throat. The vulnerability in his eyes, the raw honesty in his voice… it was too much. Too overwhelming. She had never expected this, never thought that he could feel so deeply for her.
“Murtasim, I—”
He gently placed a finger on her lips, silencing her. “You don’t have to say anything, Meerab,” he said softly. “I just needed you to know.”
For a moment, the room was completely silent. The only sound was the soft rustling of the curtains as the night breeze slipped through the open window. Meerab’s heart raced in her chest as she stood there, staring up at him, trying to process everything he had just said.
And then, slowly, she reached up and placed her hand on his cheek, her thumb brushing gently across his skin. “You’re an idiot,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. “If you had just told me sooner…”
Murtasim’s eyes widened slightly, and for the first time that night, he looked genuinely surprised. “Told you what?”
Meerab smiled softly, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “That you loved me, you fool. I might have told you that I…” She hesitated for a moment, but then her smile widened, and she looked into his eyes. “I love you too.”
The words hung in the air between them, and for a moment, Murtasim just stared at her, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. But then, slowly, a smile spread across his face—a smile so full of joy and relief that it made Meerab’s heart swell.
He pulled her into his arms, holding her close, and for the first time in what felt like forever, everything felt right. There were no more walls between them, no more secrets, no more fear. Just love.
And as they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, Murtasim whispered one last line of poetry into her ear:
“Ishq ka dard hai lekin hum bhi Ghalib,
“Aaj ke baad koi gham nahi aata.”
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