Echoes of Heartbreak- meerab and murtasim 's fate.

chapter -12

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This part is unedited. Please let me know if there are any changes.

Later that night, Murtasim entered the dimly lit room, still speaking into his phone.

“Sounds good. See you tomorrow, then,”

he said, ending the call. He tossed his phone onto the bed and was about to head to the washroom when a faint, muffled sound stopped him in his tracks.

Turning towards the source, he found Meerab lying on the couch, mumbling in her sleep, her face contorted with discomfort. She was struggling, her expression filled with distress even in her dreams. Concern flickered in Murtasim’s eyes as he approached her. Gently, he brushed his fingers against her hand, trying to wake her from the unsettling dreams that seemed to haunt her.

But as he touched her skin, a jolt of worry shot through him ,she was burning up. Kneeling down  beside her, he placed the back of his hand on her forehead. The heat radiating from her skin was alarming.

“She’s having a high fever,”

he muttered to himself, worry knitting his brows.

Acting quickly gets up and lifted her into his arms, carrying her over to the bed with a gentleness that surprised even himself. He carefully laid her down, ensuring she was comfortable before stepping out of the room. Moments later, he returned, holding a bowl of cold water and a few strips of cloth.

Setting the bowl on the bedside table, Murtasim pulled up a chair and sat beside her. His movements were careful as he dipped a cloth strip into the cold water, squeezing out the excess before gently placing it on her forehead. His touch was tender, almost reverent, as he tried to soothe her fever. The cloth absorbed her warmth, and he repeated the process over and over, watching her face for any signs of relief.

As the minutes ticked by, he found himself lost in thought, blaming himself for the situation. First, the asthma attack… now, this fever. She must be thinking about her father and caught fever. She refused to speak to in fear that he would do something to her father and her cousin.His desire for revenge had blinded him, and he realized with a pang that she was the one bearing the brunt of the pain, while her family remained untouched, indifferent to her suffering.

A pang of guilt clenched in his chest. For all the anger and hurt between them, he hadn’t meant for her to suffer like this.

After a while, he checked her temperature with a thermometer, relief washing over him as he saw that it had dropped slightly. Though she was still feverish, her condition was improving. Quietly, he stood, pulling a blanket over her to keep her warm. Just as he turned to go, her hand reached out, grasping his firmly even in her sleep.

Murtasim looked down, feeling the warmth of her hand around his. For a moment, he froze, his heart unexpectedly stirred by the simple act. Her grip was gentle yet unyielding, as though she sought comfort even in her dreams. He attempted to release her hold, gently slipping his other hand beneath to loosen her fingers.

But her fingers tightened around his other hand, holding on as though she feared he might disappear. Murtasim’s heart softened, an unfamiliar feeling blooming within him.

Reluctantly, he sat back down in the chair, her hands resting securely in his. He leaned back, exhaustion finally taking over. In the quiet of the room, Murtasim drifted off to sleep. He spends the entire night in same position.

The next morning, Murtasim was roused by a soft noise. Blinking, he took a moment to remember where he was, glancing down to find Meerab still helping her hand. Gently, he slid his hand out, careful not to disturb her. He leaned forward, his hand instinctively going to her forehead; though her skin remained slightly warm, the fever had subsided significantly.