That evening, Murtasim returned home after a long day. He headed to his room but was stopped by his mother, Salma, as she called out to him from the living room.
“Murtasim, ek minute rukho.”
He turned around, sensing something unusual. “Ji, Ammi?”
Salma walked over to him with a soft smile. “Woh... Meerab ayi thi ghar pe. Usne khud mujhe aur tumhe dinner ke liye bulaya hai. Bohot insist kiya aur bola hai zarur aane ko. Tum chloge na?”
Murtasim froze in place, processing her words. His eyebrows furrowed in disbelief. Meerab ne dinner ke liye invite kiya? Before he could respond, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Pulling it out, he saw a notification from Meerab.
It was a message.
"Hey Murtasim, aaj raat mere ghar pe dinner hai, zarur aana. Dost na sahi, dushman samajh ke hi aa jana. I think hume ek nayi shuruaat karni chahiye. Mujhe tumhara intezar rahega."
Murtasim read the text twice, his confusion only deepening. Nayi shuruaat? He didn’t trust Meerab’s sudden gesture. It was out of character, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that she had some hidden agenda. But her words played on his mind.
After a moment of contemplation, he looked at Salma, who was waiting for his response. “Theek hai, Ammi. Main chalta hoon.”
Salma smiled, relief evident on her face. “Yeh hui na baat! Dekho, beta, sab kuch theek ho jayega.”
Murtasim gave a faint nod, though doubt lingered in his heart. As he walked toward his room to freshen up, he thought, Meerab, tum kya kar rahi ho? Tumhari chaal kya hai?
Despite his misgivings, he decided to go. If Meerab wanted to start something, he’d face her head-on. After all, he wasn’t one to back down from a challenge—especially not when it came to Meerab.
That night, Murtasim stood in front of his mirror, adjusting the cuffs of his crisp white shirt. He paired it with perfectly tailored black pants and polished shoes, exuding an air of elegance and charm. For a moment, he hesitated. Kya Meerab sach mein yeh dushmani khatam karna chahti hai? The thought lingered in his mind, but he chose to set it aside. If Meerab wanted to start anew, he would give her that chance.
He grabbed his car keys and called out to his mother, Salma. Together, they got into his luxurious black car. As he drove through the streets, a flash of color caught his eye—a flower shop, its bright blooms illuminated under the streetlights. On an impulse, he pulled over.
“Ammi, ek minute,” he said, stepping out of the car.
Inside the shop, his eyes scanned the array of flowers until they landed on a bouquet of delicate tulips. He smiled slightly, remembering something from years ago. Tulips… Meerab ki pasand. Without second-guessing, he bought the bouquet, carefully placing it on the seat beside his mother before continuing their drive.
When they reached Meerab's house, the grand entrance was lit up, and the air buzzed with light conversation and laughter. Meerab herself greeted them at the door, looking breathtaking in a divine red suit that seemed to glow against the warm lights.
“Assalamualaikum,” Murtasim said, his voice calm and composed as he extended the bouquet toward her.
Meerab’s eyes lit up as she took the flowers. “Tulips? Meri pasand abhi tak yaad hai tumhe? Amazing.” Her tone was casual, but there was a glimmer of surprise and appreciation in her eyes.
Murtasim offered a faint smile but didn’t say much, simply nodding. Salma and Meerab’s parents exchanged pleasantries before everyone stepped inside.
The dining area was lively, with some familiar faces from both Meerab’s and Murtasim’s companies present. As the guests settled in, Murtasim’s sharp eyes scanned the room, noticing the deliberate effort Meerab had put into the evening. It wasn’t just a simple dinner; it was a well-thought-out gathering.
Dinner was served, and everyone sat down, including a few staff members who worked closely with Meerab and Murtasim. The aroma of freshly prepared dishes filled the air, adding to the cozy yet formal atmosphere. Murtasim occasionally glanced at Meerab, who seemed composed and confident, effortlessly hosting the evening.
Although the surface seemed calm, Murtasim couldn’t shake the feeling that Meerab had something planned. For now, he decided to play along, keeping his suspicions to himself. This wasn’t just a dinner—it was the beginning of something bigger, and he would soon find out what Meerab’s true intentions were.
After the meal, as everyone settled into light conversations over dessert, Meerab stood up, lightly clinking her glass to grab everyone’s attention. Her confident posture and piercing gaze hinted that she had something significant to say. The room fell silent as all eyes turned toward her.
Meerab: “Soo, everyone, listen carefully. You must all be wondering why I hosted this dinner tonight. Well, it’s to introduce you all to a very special person. Meet Mr. Murtasim Shahnawaz Khan—a wonderful, experienced guy who, instead of building his own empire, finds joy in stealing others' projects
Meerab: (smirking) "Oh, did I touch a nerve, Mr. Khan? Truth does sting, doesn’t it? But let’s not forget—this isn’t the first time you’ve done this. Stealing my contract at the last minute? Impressive. But dirty tactics don’t go unnoticed."
Murtasim: (standing up, furious) "Enough, Meerab! Tumhe koi haq nahi hai mujhe sabke saamne insult karne ka. If you have issues, talk to me directly, not like this!"
Meerab: (crossing her arms) "Directly? Tumhare jaise logon se directly baat karke koi fayda nahi. Tum toh wahi karte ho jo tumhare matlab ka ho. Stealing contracts is your expertise, isn’t it, Mr. Khan? Or shall I list out the projects you conveniently 'acquired'?"
Salma Begum: (interrupting, looking shocked) "Meerab! Beta, yeh kya tareeqa hai? Tum Murtasim ke saath aise baat nahi kar sakti!"
Meerab: (turning toward Salma) "Aunty, I respect you, but this isn’t personal. It’s purely professional. And professionally, your son has crossed every limit. He’s been sabotaging my projects for months now. It’s high time someone called him out for it."
Murtasim: (clenching his fists, stepping closer) Bas, Meerab! Tumhari problem yeh hai ke tum hamesha apni haar ka blame kisi aur pe daalti ho. Agar maine woh contract jeeta hai, toh woh meri hard work ki wajah se, tumhari incompetence ki wajah se nahi.
Meerab: (laughing bitterly) Hard work? Tum aur hard work? Tumhare paas jo hai na, woh tumhare naam aur influence ki wajah se hai, Murtasim Khan. Tumhari success tumhare kaam ki wajah se nahi, tumhare connections ki wajah se hai.
The tension in the room was palpable, and everyone sat awkwardly, unsure of whether to intervene or stay silent.
Meerab’s father, Waqas Ahmed, finally stood up, his voice firm.
Waqas: Meerab, stop it! Yeh dinner ek dosti ke liye tha, dushmani ke liye nahi. Tum dono apni ego ke chakkar mein sab kuch khatam kar doge.
Murtasim: (looking at Waqas) "Waqas Uncle, main is discussion ka hissa banne ke liye nahi aaya tha. Lekin agar koi mujhe accuse karega bina kisi proof ke, toh main chup nahi rahunga."
Meerab: (sarcastically) "Proof? Don’t worry, Mr. Khan, proof bhi milega. Tab dekhenge tum kaise apni safai dete ho."
Murtasim: (gritting his teeth) "Mujhe koi safai dene ki zarurat nahi hai, especially tumhare saamne."
With that, Murtasim stormed out of the room, his mother following him, visibly upset. Meerab stood there, her heart racing. On the surface, she looked confident, but deep down, she knew she had crossed a line.
Waqas: (shaking his head) "Meerab, tumhari is zid ka anjaam achha nahi hoga."
Meerab: (calmly) "Papa, kabhi-kabhi line cross karni padti hai sach samne lane ke liye."
With that, she walked out of the room, leaving everyone behind in stunned silence.
___________________________________________
Sorry for late update ❄
Because meri zindagi ke masle khatm nhi hote
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Qasam e Mohabbat
Fanfiction★"Qasam-e-Mohabbat" is a story of two powerful individuals, Murtasim and Meerab, whose fierce rivalry takes an unexpected turn when they are bound by a family obligation. Forced into a reluctant marriage, they plan to part ways after fulfilling thei...
