Murtasim Khan shifted restlessly on the plush couch in his room, the soft fabric doing little to ease his discomfort. A low hum of silence enveloped the Khan Haveli, punctuated only by the occasional rustling of leaves against the windowsill. His eyes fluttered closed, the weight of exhaustion pulling him deeper into slumber, despite the ever-present storm brewing within him.
Meerab.
The thought of her plagued his mind, haunting him even in moments where he sought refuge in sleep. The damned contract between them was a constant reminder of the distance she had built between them. Yet no piece of paper could truly sever the connection that bound him to her, the fire that ignited every time she was near.
---
In his dream, the world shifted. The coldness of the contract, the walls she had erected, disappeared, leaving only them.
The room was bathed in the soft, warm glow of candlelight, the flickering flames casting gentle shadows on the walls. The space between them was nonexistent now, his desire to reach for her overwhelming every fiber of his being. Meerab stood in front of him, her eyes locked onto his with an intensity that sent a tremor through his chest.
Her lips parted slightly as if ready to speak, but no words came. Instead, she took a step closer. The soft, airy fabric of her dupatta barely grazed his skin, yet it felt like a spark had been ignited, setting his pulse racing. Her eyes, dark and mysterious, locked with his, and in them, he saw no hesitation-only the same longing that had been his constant companion for so long.
His hand reached out before he could think, tracing the curve of her arm, his fingertips ghosting over her skin, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. She did not flinch, nor did she pull away. Instead, she leaned into his touch, the barrier between them dissolving into nothingness.
"Meerab..." His voice was hoarse, roughened by the intensity of his feelings, and she responded not with words but with the softest sigh, a sound so delicate it made his breath catch.
Before he knew it, his hands were at her waist, pulling her flush against him. The scent of her hair, the warmth of her body-it was intoxicating, overwhelming him with a need he had suppressed for far too long. Meerab's hands found their way to his chest, resting lightly at first, but then tightening as though she, too, couldn't bear the distance any longer.
He could feel her heartbeat against his own, their breaths mingling in the charged air between them. He brought his forehead down to meet hers, closing his eyes, savoring the closeness. His lips hovered near hers, teasing the promise of what could be, but never quite bridging the gap. He could feel the tension, the anticipation crackling between them.
"Murtasim," she finally whispered, her voice trembling with an emotion that mirrored his own.
It was all the invitation he needed. With a swift but gentle motion, he tilted her chin upwards, capturing her lips in a kiss that was both tender and urgent, as though time was slipping away and they had to make every second count. The warmth of her lips against his sent a jolt of electricity through his body, the softness of her skin beneath his hands awakening every dormant desire he had fought to suppress.
Her response was equally fervent, her hands sliding up to his neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss with a passion that made his heart race. It was as if the barriers they had built were crumbling all at once, giving way to the flood of emotions neither of them could hold back any longer. The world around them ceased to exist; there was only her, only this moment, and the need to feel, to know that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
He groaned softly into her mouth as his hands roamed over her back, fingers splaying wide as he drew her closer still, eliminating any remaining space between them. Her body molded perfectly to his, the sensation of her warmth against him causing an ache so deep that it was almost unbearable.
