It was a quiet night in Khan Haveli, the dim lights casting long shadows across the room. Murtasim lay sprawled on the couch, staring up at the ceiling, frustration brewing inside him. He had never imagined that marriage would be like this—so close yet so distant. Meerab was his wife, yet she always kept him at arm’s length, as though there were an invisible barrier between them.
He couldn't blame her entirely. Their marriage wasn’t built on love but on a bond that had forced them together. Still, he couldn’t deny the attraction he felt for her—an attraction that was slowly driving him to the edge. Every time she entered the room, his eyes would gravitate towards her, drinking in the way her dupatta would slide from her shoulder or the way her soft lips would purse in defiance whenever they argued. And they argued often. The fire in her eyes only fueled the desire that simmered beneath his calm exterior.
Tonight, the yearning had become unbearable. Murtasim closed his eyes, his breath ragged as images of Meerab swirled in his mind—her delicate hands, the way she absentmindedly twirled her hair while reading, her lips that he had never kissed, but always fantasized about. The more he thought about her, the harder it became to control the ache in his body. It had been days—no, weeks—since he had been able to touch her in any meaningful way. Even their accidental touches were met with tension, as if she was punishing him for something beyond his control.
With a heavy sigh, he gave in to his frustration, his hand slipping beneath the waistband of his pyjamas. It wasn’t the first time he had found himself in this state, but tonight, it felt different. The desire was stronger, the need to release this pent-up frustration more urgent. His mind raced, conjuring up the image of Meerab as she had looked earlier that evening, her hair tumbling down her back, her eyes darting away from his whenever he tried to catch her gaze. He imagined what it would be like to pull her close, to finally feel her against him, to hear her breath hitch in the way he dreamed of.
"Meerab..." he groaned softly, her name spilling from his lips as his body tensed, his thoughts consumed by the woman who lay just a few feet away, completely unaware of the effect she had on him.
He was too lost in his own world to notice the faint creak of the door.
“Murtasim?”
The soft voice sent a jolt of panic through him. His eyes snapped open, and in an instant, his heart plummeted to his stomach. Meerab stood at the doorway, her eyes wide, her face frozen in shock as she took in the scene before her. For a split second, time seemed to stand still, both of them staring at each other in horrified silence.
Murtasim's hand immediately dropped, but it was too late. The damage was done. His face flushed crimson, mortification flooding every inch of his being. “Meerab, I-I—” he stammered, struggling to find the right words to explain himself, but nothing came out right. He had never felt more vulnerable, more embarrassed.
Meerab’s face was a mix of shock, anger, and utter mortification. Her lips parted, but it took her a few seconds to find her voice. When she did, it was sharp, laced with fury. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she spat, her hands trembling as she clutched the doorframe.
“I—this isn’t what it looks like, Meerab, please!” Murtasim pleaded, desperately trying to salvage what little dignity he had left. He sat up quickly, fixing his clothes, but Meerab's gaze had already darkened.
“Not what it looks like?” she scoffed, her voice rising. “You were—” She couldn’t even finish her sentence, the words sticking in her throat as her face flushed deeper. “You were touching yourself and saying my name! How disgusting!”
“I wasn’t—” Murtasim stopped himself, realizing how futile it was to deny the obvious. He rubbed a hand over his face in frustration. “It’s not what you think, Meerab. I just... I couldn't help it.”
Her nostrils flared. “You couldn’t help it? So that’s your excuse? You’re so shameless, Murtasim! You think I don’t notice the way you look at me?” she accused, her voice shaking with both embarrassment and anger. “I knew you were perverted, but this? This is beyond disgusting!”
Murtasim flinched at her harsh words, his heart pounding in his chest. “Meerab, please, you don’t understand,” he tried to reason, standing up and taking a step toward her, but she recoiled, her eyes blazing.
“Don’t come near me!” she shouted, holding up her hand to stop him. “You stay right there! I was right all along, wasn’t I? Keeping you on that couch was the best decision I made because you—you don’t deserve to be near me!”
His heart sank at her words, guilt mixing with his embarrassment. “Meerab, please, it’s not like that. I didn’t mean to—”
“You didn’t mean to what?” she snapped, cutting him off. “To moan my name like some creep? To fantasize about me when you know I don’t—” She paused, biting her lip, as if saying the words aloud would make her more vulnerable. “You are pathetic, Murtasim. Absolutely pathetic!”
Murtasim ran a frustrated hand through his hair, his chest tightening at the hurt and fury in her voice. “Meerab, I—”
“No!” she hissed, her eyes flashing dangerously. “Don’t you dare say another word! This is exactly why I can’t stand being around you! You think just because we’re married, you have some right over me? That you can—what—do *this* whenever you want?”
He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, but every word she said only deepened the chasm between them. “I’m sorry, Meerab. I never wanted to make you uncomfortable. It’s just… I—” He hesitated, unsure of how to explain the turmoil inside him, the longing he felt for her. “You don’t know how hard it is. To be so close to you and yet—”
“Oh, spare me the sob story,” Meerab interrupted, her voice cold. “You’re just a pervert, Murtasim. A pathetic, disgusting pervert who can’t control himself. I don’t even want to look at you right now!”
Murtasim winced, her words cutting deeper than he expected. He tried to speak, to explain, but every word that came out only seemed to make things worse. “Meerab, please... I wasn’t trying to—”
“Shut up!” she snapped, turning away from him. “Just shut up and sleep on that couch. And don’t you dare come near me again!” With that, she stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her, leaving Murtasim standing there, his heart heavy with shame and regret.
As the silence settled in the room, Murtasim sat back down on the couch, burying his face in his hands. What had he done? He had never meant for her to find out, never meant to make her feel disgusted. All he wanted was to be close to her, to break down the walls she had built between them. But now, he had only pushed her further away.
His chest ached with frustration, and though his body still hummed with the remnants of desire, all he felt now was an overwhelming sense of defeat. How was he ever going to fix this?
