Bold

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Murtasim stood by the terrace, watching Meerab pace back and forth in the courtyard below. She was talking to herself, as she often did when she was deep in thought, and it amused him endlessly. Today, she was clearly in one of those moods—lost in her own little world. He leaned against the stone pillar, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. She had no idea he was watching her.

As Meerab came to a stop by the fountain, Murtasim decided it was the perfect moment to surprise her. He crept down the stairs as quietly as possible, glancing around the courtyard to make sure they were alone. To his delight, the place seemed deserted. He tiptoed closer to Meerab, suppressing a chuckle as she continued her monologue, completely unaware of his approach.

The temptation was too great to resist. His hand itched with mischief, and without giving it a second thought, he reached out and smacked her butt—harder than intended.

**SMACK!**

The sharp sound echoed through the courtyard.

Meerab yelped, jumping several inches in the air as she whirled around to face him, eyes wide with shock. “Murtasim!” she gasped, her face flushing a deep shade of red. “What are you—”

But before she could finish her sentence, they both froze. From behind them came a loud, unmistakable throat-clearing.

Murtasim’s heart sank. He didn’t need to turn around to know that they weren’t as alone as he thought. He slowly pivoted, dread pooling in his stomach.

Maa Begum stood just a few feet away, arms crossed, her lips pursed in that specific way that sent chills down Murtasim’s spine. Beside her was Mariyam, who, unlike their mother, wasn’t even trying to hide her amusement. Her eyes were practically sparkling with glee, and her mouth was twitching as she desperately tried to suppress her laughter.

"Murtasim Khan," Maa Begum began, her voice calm but laced with disapproval. “What *exactly* do you think you're doing?”

The courtyard was dead silent. Meerab, whose face had turned a bright shade of crimson, looked like she was about to either faint or crawl under the nearest rock. Murtasim, for once in his life, was utterly speechless.

“I... uh... I was just...” He cleared his throat, but no words came out. He had faced business rivals, enemies, and all manner of challenges in his life, but nothing prepared him for the icy gaze of his mother after catching him red-handed—quite literally.

“Just *what*?” Maa Begum repeated, raising an eyebrow. “What were you just doing?”

Mariyam snorted, unable to hold back anymore. “Oh Bhai, you really outdid yourself this time.” She bit her lip to keep from bursting into full laughter, but her amusement was written all over her face. “In the *courtyard*? Really?”

Murtasim shot her a death glare, but it did little to stop her. Meerab, meanwhile, was too mortified to move or speak, standing there with her hands clamped over her mouth as if trying to make herself invisible.

Maa Begum shook her head slowly, disappointment etched across her features. “This is the kind of behavior I expect from *children,* Murtasim, not the *head of this family*,” she said, each word hitting him like a blow.

Murtasim swallowed hard, his confidence evaporating. “Maa, it’s not what it looks like—”

“It’s *exactly* what it looks like,” Maa Begum snapped, her eyes narrowing. “Smacking your wife’s behind in broad daylight, in the middle of the courtyard, where anyone could have seen you. Have you lost your mind?”

Meerab, whose face was still a fiery red, finally found her voice, though it came out as a choked whisper. “Murtasim, you—how could you—” She was beyond mortified. “Maa Begum was right *there!*”

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