The evening air at Khan Haveli was unusually still, almost too quiet for the usually bustling estate. In the distance, servants rushed to prepare for the upcoming family dinner, and the setting sun painted the sky in hues of pink and orange. Inside, however, tensions were simmering, mostly due to one person: Haya.
Haya had always harbored an obsessive crush on Murtasim, and with every passing day, her jealousy towards Meerab had only grown stronger. It consumed her, making her thoughts darker, her intentions more dangerous. Her desire to possess Murtasim blinded her to the bond that had slowly blossomed between him and Meerab—a bond built on respect, love, and an unspoken understanding that Haya could never disrupt. Or so she thought.
It had been a few days since rumors started swirling around the haveli that Meerab might be pregnant. Murtasim had been unusually protective, his watchful eyes constantly on her, ensuring she was never in harm's way. Haya couldn’t bear it. She had heard whispers among the servants that the reason Murtasim’s love had shifted entirely toward Meerab was this unborn child. The thought of them starting a family together—it was too much.
Haya stood at the top of the grand staircase, her hands gripping the railings tightly as she watched Meerab slowly ascend. The slight glow on Meerab’s face was unmistakable, and it made Haya's heart boil with rage. It wasn’t just Murtasim’s love she wanted now; she wanted to erase every trace of this future that belonged to him and Meerab.
With each step Meerab took, lost in her own thoughts, Haya’s resolve hardened. The words of the servants echoed in her mind: *She’s carrying Murtasim’s child. That’s why he loves her.* No one had confirmed anything, but the thought alone was enough to drive Haya into a blind fury.
Meerab had almost reached the top of the staircase when she noticed Haya standing there, a strange look in her eyes. There was something unnerving about the way she was staring—an intensity that Meerab couldn't place. She paused, her hand on the railing, her brows furrowing slightly.
“Haya? Is something wrong?” Meerab asked, her voice calm but cautious.
Haya didn’t respond at first, her eyes flickering down to Meerab’s stomach before she took a slow, deliberate step forward.
"Why does he love you?" Haya’s voice was cold, filled with bitterness. "What did you do to deserve him, Meerab?"
Meerab frowned, confused. “What are you talking about, Haya?”
But before Meerab could process what was happening, Haya’s eyes turned wild, and with a sudden, violent push, she shoved Meerab. Time seemed to slow as Meerab felt herself lose balance, her hands flailing in the air as she tumbled backward. The world spun around her, and then there was nothing but the sharp, overwhelming pain as her body collided with the steps, rolling uncontrollably down the grand staircase.
At that very moment, Murtasim entered the hall from the opposite side. His heart stopped as he saw Meerab’s body crash down the steps, a scream of terror ripping through the air. His mind went blank for a split second, then filled with nothing but rage and fear.
“MEEEERAAAB!” he bellowed, his voice echoing through the haveli as he sprinted toward her.
He reached her just as her body came to a stop at the bottom of the staircase. Blood seeped from a cut on her forehead, and she lay motionless, unconscious. Murtasim’s hands trembled as he cradled her head, his heart pounding in his chest. His mind screamed in panic, but he knew he had to stay calm—for her.
“Meerab… Meerab, wake up!” His voice was hoarse with desperation as he gently patted her cheek, his other hand brushing away the strands of hair stuck to her bloodied forehead. “Please, Meerab, open your eyes.”
