Years had passed since Meerab’s return to Khan Haveli. Life had moved forward for everyone, but the scars of that night—the night that had torn apart two lives—remained etched deep in their hearts. The once grand and bustling haveli, adorned with traditions, seemed to have lost its luster, standing as a hollow monument to the love that had once existed but had been consumed by betrayal, pain, and regret.
Murtasim Khan was no longer the imposing and commanding man who had ruled the haveli with pride and dignity. He had aged, but it wasn’t just the lines on his face or the gray in his hair—it was the heaviness in his soul, the burden of his past sins, that weighed him down. He walked through the halls of the haveli, haunted by memories of his own actions, the choices that had destroyed his marriage and left him with nothing but regret.
Meerab had stayed, but she had never forgiven him.
The night she returned with Meesam in her arms, their daughter had been his only hope for some semblance of peace. But peace never came. Meerab had made it clear from the beginning—she had returned for Meesam’s sake, not for him. And Murtasim, realizing the depth of the damage he had caused, had accepted his punishment. He never asked for her forgiveness again. He knew he didn’t deserve it.
Meesam was the only light in the darkness of their lives. She was the glue that held their fragile co-parenting relationship together. Murtasim lived for the moments he shared with his daughter, cherishing every smile, every laugh. But every time he saw her, he was reminded of the night that had changed everything—the night he had lost the woman he loved more than anything else in the world.
Meerab had rebuilt her life in the years that followed. She had pursued her dreams, going back to law school and eventually becoming the successful lawyer she had always dreamed of being. She had found purpose and fulfillment in her career, pouring her heart and soul into her work. It gave her the strength to carry on, to move past the pain and betrayal that had once consumed her.
But even with her professional success, the wounds from her past never fully healed. She had learned to live with the pain, to coexist with Murtasim for Meesam’s sake, but she had never forgotten. And though she stayed in the haveli, her heart remained closed to the man who had shattered her trust beyond repair.
Murtasim, on the other hand, lived with the constant weight of regret. He continued to burn for Meerab, yearning for the love they once shared. But that love was now buried beneath layers of hurt, anger, and betrayal. He knew he had destroyed everything that had mattered to him, and no matter how much he loved her, he would never be able to undo the damage he had caused.
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One late evening, as the sun set over Khan Haveli, casting long shadows across the courtyard, Murtasim sat alone in his study, his thoughts heavy as they always were. He gazed at the empty chair opposite him, the chair where Meerab used to sit, back when their world had been whole. Now, that chair remained empty, just like the space in his heart that could never be filled.
Meesam had gone to visit her friends for the weekend, and the haveli felt even more quiet and lonely than usual. It was during these moments—when the silence pressed in on him—that the weight of his past crushed him the most.
He poured himself a glass of water, his hands trembling slightly. He had lost so much—his dignity, his happiness, his wife. And it had all been his fault.
A soft knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Murtasim looked up to see Meerab standing in the doorway. It was rare for her to come to his study. They had settled into a routine over the years—civil, but distant. They communicated when necessary, mostly about Meesam, but anything beyond that remained untouched. Their relationship had become nothing more than a co-parenting arrangement, devoid of any personal connection.
Murtasim stood up, surprised by her presence. “Meerab… is everything okay?” he asked, his voice softer than usual.
She nodded, stepping into the room, though she didn’t sit down. “I’m not here for anything serious. I just… I wanted to let you know that I’m planning on taking Meesam to visit my family for a few days. I’ll be back by the weekend.”
Murtasim’s heart sank a little, though he nodded in understanding. It wasn’t unusual for Meerab to take trips with Meesam, but each time they left, he felt the hollow ache of their absence. He had come to depend on Meesam’s presence in the haveli as his only source of joy.
“Of course,” he replied, his voice subdued. “Take care of her.”
Meerab’s eyes softened for just a moment as she looked at him. She could see the pain in his eyes, the regret that never seemed to leave him. There were times, rare as they were, when she almost felt pity for him. Almost.
“I always do,” she said quietly before turning to leave.
But before she could step out of the room, Murtasim’s voice stopped her. “Meerab.”
She turned back to him, waiting for him to speak, though her expression remained guarded.
“I know… I know I can never ask for your forgiveness,” he began, his voice heavy with emotion. “But I want you to know that I regret every moment that I hurt you. I regret every choice I made that drove you away. And I’ll spend the rest of my life living with that regret.”
Meerab didn’t respond right away, her gaze steady as she looked at him. She had heard similar words from him before, but they never lessened the pain. They couldn’t undo what had been done.
“I know you regret it,” she finally said, her voice calm but firm. “But regret doesn’t erase the past, Murtasim. It doesn’t change what you did. And it doesn’t make everything okay.”
He nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I know. I just… I just wanted you to know that I’ll always love you. Even if you never forgive me, even if you never feel the same… I’ll always love you.”
Meerab’s expression didn’t soften, but there was a hint of sadness in her eyes as she looked at him. “Love isn’t enough, Murtasim. Not anymore.”
With that, she turned and walked out of the study, leaving Murtasim alone once again.
---
As the years went on, Murtasim continued to live in the shadow of his past, his love for Meerab burning brighter with each passing day, even though he knew it was futile. Meerab, for her part, found peace in her career and in raising Meesam, though she never forgot the man who had once meant everything to her. She remained distant, never allowing herself to feel for him again, knowing that some wounds could never be healed.
And so they lived—together, yet apart.
Meesam, the only light in their lives, grew up in the strange, fractured world of her parents, never fully understanding the depth of the pain that had shaped them. She loved them both, but she knew that they would never truly be together, not in the way that she had always dreamed.
In the end, Murtasim and Meerab remained bound by their past, by the choices they had made, and by the love that had once been, but could never be again.
And though Murtasim continued to burn for the woman he had lost, yearning for a forgiveness that would never come, he accepted that this was his punishment. His eternal regret. His love, forever unrequited.
The echoes of their love, once so fierce and passionate, faded into the silence of the haveli, leaving behind only memories of what could have been.
And for Murtasim, that silence was the loudest reminder of all.
