Meerab paced around the room, her heels clinking against the marble floor in rhythm to her growing frustration. She glanced at the clock – 7:30 p.m. Murtasim was supposed to have joined her for dinner hours ago, but instead, he remained in his study, buried in work, forgetting her presence. Again.
It had been a week since he had given her more than just a passing glance. His intense focus on business matters had rendered him oblivious to her, and Meerab had had enough. She missed the playful banter, the possessive gazes, and the teasing conversations they used to share. But now, all she got were distracted hums and curt nods.
As she stood by the mirror, adjusting her earrings, a mischievous plan started to take shape in her mind. If he wasn’t going to give her attention willingly, she’d make him.
She slipped into a deep red saree, the fabric draping elegantly over her curves, highlighting every inch that she knew Murtasim couldn’t ignore – if he bothered to look. She styled her hair loosely, letting soft curls cascade down her shoulders. A touch of kohl around her eyes, a stroke of crimson on her lips, and she was ready. Not just to look beautiful, but to make him regret every second of neglecting her.
Meerab wasn’t the type to quietly suffer or demand affection, but there was something about Murtasim’s possessive love that always riled her up. She could easily stir his jealousy, and tonight, she was going to enjoy it.
---
In his study, Murtasim sat at his desk, pouring over documents related to a land dispute case. His brows were furrowed, fingers tapping against the edge of the table as he tried to make sense of the legal jargon. The faint scent of jasmine floated through the room, briefly pulling him out of his focus, but he quickly dismissed it. He had to finish this tonight.
Just then, the door creaked open slightly, and Meerab peered in.
“Murtasim,” her voice was soft, but laced with intent, “I’m going to the garden for a walk. I might be late.”
“Hm?” He barely looked up, his fingers still trailing the lines of text. “Okay.”
Meerab smirked inwardly. Okay? That was it? He hadn’t even glanced at her. Fine, if that’s how he wanted to play it, she’d play along, but on her terms.
---
Meerab strolled through the garden, purposely stopping near where some of the house staff and guards were stationed. She exchanged polite greetings with a few of them, allowing herself to engage in light conversation with a young guard who had just started working at Khan Haveli.
“Meerab bibi, you look beautiful tonight,” the young man complimented innocently, unaware of the fire he was about to ignite.
Meerab smiled warmly, twirling a strand of her hair between her fingers. “Thank you, Aman. That’s very kind of you.”
She leaned in slightly, her tone dropping as if she were sharing a secret. “Tell me, Aman, have you seen many people wearing sarees like this?”
The young guard blushed, his eyes darting nervously. “Not... not like you, bibi. It suits you very much.”
Meerab chuckled lightly, her gaze drifting towards the house where she knew Murtasim could be watching through his study window. She purposely lingered in the conversation, laughing a little louder than necessary, casually brushing her fingers through her hair – all while Aman remained flustered and unsure of what to say next.
---
Inside, Murtasim’s concentration finally snapped. He hadn’t meant to glance outside, but the sound of her laughter had distracted him. His eyes locked onto the sight below – Meerab, standing far too close to one of the young guards, smiling up at him with a sparkle in her eyes that was supposed to be reserved for him.
