In the bustling halls of Khan Haveli, the tension was palpable. The quiet morning sun filtered through the ornate windows, but all was not calm inside. Meerab was pacing back and forth in her room, her frustration bubbling to the surface. She had just come back from yet another encounter with Maa Begum that hadn’t gone too well. No, it had gone terribly, horribly wrong. And this time, she was done. It was time for Murtasim to take a stand.
Meanwhile, Maa Begum, in her usual place of power, sat in the drawing room with her cup of tea, exuding an air of quiet authority, but her face was tight with annoyance. She had had enough of Meerab's "modern, disrespectful" behavior, and today was the final straw. Both women were gearing up for a confrontation, and there was one poor soul caught in the middle of it all: Murtasim Khan. The man who thought his days of peace were just beginning was, in fact, on the precipice of disaster.
---
Meerab stomped down the hall, her anger evident in every step. As she barged into the drawing room, Maa Begum didn’t even bother to look up.
"Maa Begum, we need to talk today!" Meerab’s voice echoed in the large room.
Maa Begum, still calm, took a slow sip of her tea. “What’s wrong now? Why are you shouting as if the world is ending? Your little complaints never end, do they?”
Meerab was already fuming. "Little complaints? You’ve been controlling every single thing in this house, Maa Begum! Every decision, every plan, even the color of the curtains! Does Murtasim have his own opinion or not? Or is it just your orders that run the house?"
Maa Begum arched an eyebrow. "And what’s your problem? As if you don’t love getting your way? Don’t act all innocent, Meerab. I understand your attitude."
Meerab’s eyes widened. "Attitude? Me? Excuse me, all I want is my space and independence. Is that too much to ask? Why do you have to interfere in everything?"
Maa Begum’s calm exterior started to crack. "Interfere? I can't stand these modern whims of yours. I’ve been running this house before you were even born, Meerab! These are the traditions of this house. Understand?"
Meerab crossed her arms, her voice lowering but still sharp. “Traditions! Every single decision is about tradition and control! How about what I want? Doesn’t that matter?”
Maa Begum slammed her cup down, her patience finally wearing thin. “And what about your whims? Every other day your mood changes. If you don’t like the rules of this house, then why are you even here?”
"Maybe I shouldn’t be!" Meerab shot back, her heart pounding as her anger rose to the surface.
And just as the fire was at its peak, the sound of footsteps echoed through the hallway. Murtasim entered the room, looking between the two women, confused. “Now what? What’s going on with both of you?”
---
The second Murtasim stepped into the room, both women turned to him as if he were the final judge in this showdown. He felt the tension like a physical force pressing against him, and he gulped. This was going to be bad.
“Murtasim, you’re here just in time,” Meerab said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Today you need to decide: Maa Begum or me. Who do you choose?”
Murtasim’s eyes went wide, like a deer caught in the headlights. "Me? What do you mean? What’s happening here?"
Maa Begum, unfazed, waved her hand dismissively. “I don’t need you to choose anything. I’m your mother, you know your duties. But this girl," she pointed toward Meerab, "I don’t know when she’ll understand how a house is run."
