Murtasim paced the empty corridors of Khan Haveli, his heart a heavy stone in his chest, the air thick with the remnants of a night that had changed everything. Mariyam’s rukhsati had come and gone, but the echoes of what had happened between him and Meerab on that very night refused to leave him. He had never felt more ashamed, more broken, than he did now. The silence of the haveli was suffocating, pressing in on him as the memories of what he had done clawed at his mind.
He had forced himself on her.
The words felt like knives against his throat, choking him with the truth he had refused to acknowledge at first. He hadn’t wanted to believe that he could become that man, the one who crossed the line between love and cruelty. But he had, and now she was gone.
Meerab had left the haveli, her absence a gaping wound that Murtasim knew he had inflicted. He had searched every room, every corner of their home, calling her name, desperate for a sign that she was still there. But she had vanished without a trace. His heart raced with fear and guilt, dread pooling in his gut as he stumbled into the garden, hoping—praying—that she was hiding somewhere, waiting for him to apologize, to beg for her forgiveness.
But Meerab wasn’t there.
As the night stretched into dawn, Murtasim realized the full extent of his actions. He had taken from her what she had never willingly given, what she had protected with every ounce of her being. He had broken her trust, shattered the delicate bond they had spent months building. The rage, the pain that had consumed him that night—it all seemed meaningless now.
He fell to his knees in the dirt, his face buried in his hands as tears of anguish and shame finally broke free. He had failed her. The one person he had vowed to protect, to love more than his own life, and he had destroyed her. The very thought of her out there, alone, hurt, made his chest constrict painfully.
"Meerab…," he whispered into the early morning breeze, as if saying her name could somehow bring her back. But the wind carried his plea away, leaving him alone with his regret.
---
Months passed in a blur. Murtasim searched everywhere for Meerab, sparing no expense, speaking to every contact he had. He even visited the police, something he would never have imagined doing for the sake of his family’s reputation. None of it mattered anymore. All that mattered was finding her. But Meerab had disappeared without a trace, and with every day that passed, Murtasim’s hope dwindled, replaced by an all-consuming guilt that gnawed at his soul.
He couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. Every corner of Khan Haveli reminded him of her—her laughter, her anger, her defiance. And the memory of that night haunted him relentlessly. He replayed every moment in his head, wishing with everything in him that he could take it back.
Mariyam tried to comfort him, but even she seemed distant, as if the weight of his sin had pushed everyone away from him. Maa Begum, too, had grown silent, her eyes filled with disappointment every time they landed on him. His mother, who had once looked at him with such pride, now saw only the man who had ruined his marriage, who had driven away the one woman who had brought light into their lives.
But the worst was the emptiness, the void where Meerab had once been. It was as if a part of his heart had been ripped out and there was nothing left but a hollow shell.
---
Nine years later.
Karachi buzzed with life, the city as vibrant and chaotic as ever. Murtasim stood in the middle of a crowded bazaar, his hands shoved into his pockets as he navigated the sea of people. It had been years since he last visited the city, and even now, he wasn’t sure why he had come. Perhaps it was to escape the memories of Khan Haveli, or perhaps it was simply to lose himself in a place where no one knew him, where no one could judge him for the man he had become.
