Ittefaq Say (MeeraSim FF)

11 - Tasveer

His shawl was strangley warming - draping over her like a cocoon. Despite belonging to a stranger, it was encompssed her in a palpable sense of comfort that allowed her to relax into her seat.

Meerab scoffed to herself, mentally, marvelling at the ability of a stranger to be kinder and more welcoming than her own. She had appreciated the helpfulness but how many gifts could one accept before becoming a burden? This pattern of receiving had given rise to a unswallowable debt pulling her back- attaching herself to him and she aimed to be rid of it at once.

She turned to see him, namely Murtasim Shah Nawaz, by titling her knees towards his as they sat next to each other on the plush bench. The man was looking ahead at the empty bench - swiftly knocked out of his mindless stare when she promoted, 'Aapke ghar ka address dey do mujhay, ya phone ka number.' ( Give your address, or your contact number.)

Murtasim's head titled to see her- eyebrows raised in amusement of what she could possibly need the contact infomation for. 'Kyun? Khat likhou gey?,' he guessed with joy, attempting to suppress a grin at the idea and at her forwardness. (Why? Will you write letters to me?)

It haden't occurred to her that her words could even be construed as such. 'Nahi, lifafay mei ticket wale paisay waapis doungi,' she clarified with a tinge of pink on her cheeks- either from the chill of the exposed skin or at the concept of being penpals. (No, I'll send the money for ticket in an envelope.)

Way to ruin the moment.

'Mujay appkay paisay nahi chahiye,' Murtasim cleared at once, putting her worries at bay. His features fell- sobering up instantly at the presumption of there being a debt between them after he had just coaxed her into accepting the shawl. It was utterly preposterous to him. So he clicked his tongue before asking, 'Yeh kya hisaab kitaab kar rhee hou?' (I don't need your money. Why are you keeping account like this?)

It was more a questioned to himself at to her need to not appear weak, for no one to have leverage over her and he liked it. It was pride.... And he was prideful too.

Meerab was not so easily dettered by the click of a tounge and a mildy belittling tone. 'Kitni ki the ticket Murtasim?' She asked, this time with an underlying sense of seriousness. Meerab looked at him expectingly- as though he would actually divulge on the figure. (How much was the ticket for?)

Murtasim sat back in his seat, not even entertaining the idea of taking money off a woman. 'Humsafar mai aisay koy hisaab kitaab nahi rehta,' he replied effortlessly whilst folding his arms. He was let go of his head, leaning against the wall behind him and the shake of the train's vibration encompassed him. (There is no such exchange among companions.)

His pompousness at knowing the figure and not sharing it, irked her deeply. It successfully fuelled a spark in her ego, which erupted into a mighty blaze- egging her on.

She hummed in acceptance softly as though she had admitted defeat. 'Humsafar....?,' rolled off her tounge smoothly, repeating after him but with a hint of a doubt. Then she looked up with constricted pupils from the strong daylight shining upon them- there was not an ounce of that shivvering hungry girl in view when she deadpanned, 'Shohar nahi.' (A companion.... But not my husband.)

Murtasim inhaled sharply at the comparison of the two relations, nodding but not verbally denying it- careful not to jinx the future.

'Tou?' He fiended innocence, not giving much attention to the implication of her words. 'Waisay bhi, mainay tou aap ki shaadi ka khaana khaaya tha. Hisaab barabar,' he quipped with an awful attempt at levelling the playing field. (So? Anyways, I've eaten your wedding's food so it is fair deal.)