The weight of Meerab's words crashed down on Murtasim, the raw honesty of her emotions leaving an indelible mark on his heart as his tears involuntarily traced delicate paths down the letter. The room, bathed in sunlight, stood as a silent witness to a love that was both brave and tragic. Lines of farewell and heartbreak traced across the paper, revealing a depth of emotion that transcended the confines of written words.
"This has to be a joke, right?" Murtasim's mind desperately sought refuge in denial. The idea that Meerab would soon appear with Farukh, ready to reveal the jest they had orchestrated for him, lingered as a fragile hope. "She can't be gone."
Minutes felt like agonizing hours as Murtasim clung to the belief that Meerab's absence was merely a prank. But the cruel reality remained unchanged. She did not materialize, and the room held no secret observers. With trembling hands, he opened the envelope, unveiling the cold, legal papers that bore Meerab's signature—the undeniable evidence of her departure.
Crushing the divorce papers in his hand, the weight of reality pressed heavily upon him. "No, Meerab, you can't leave me alone, you won't right?" he muttered, as if his words could summon her back. The eclipse that Meerab had lifted from his heart now descended anew, plunging him into a darkness he thought he had left behind. It felt surreal, as if the ground beneath him had vanished, leaving him suspended in a void of despair.
His mind wrestled with a barrage of emotions. How could she do this? How could she abandon the connection they had forged? Meerab, the one who had mended his stoic heart, was now the one tearing it apart. His anguish constricted his chest, making it difficult to draw breath. She had left him, and the reality of her absence felt like an insurmountable void.
Why did she have to make such a big decision all by herself? She could've talked to him, questioned him and made him understand her perspective. But instead, she just left.
Despite their marriage was something based on compromises and familial duties but wasn't that something left in the past? Hadn't they evolved into something more?
And divorce? Was it only her call to make? It felt like she'd ripped a page out of their story without giving him a say.
These questions bombarded Murtasim, his pain manifesting as anger, directed inward, the lines of agitation etched on his furrowed brow. Tears of frustration left him, tracing erratic paths down his cheeks, mirroring the tumultuous storm within. He threw the bedsheet covers away with a vehement force, the fabric billowing in the air before settling on the ground. His emotions unraveled in a torrent of self-blame, the room bearing witness to the tempest of emotions that raged within him.
Why hadn't he confessed his true feelings to Meerab? The echoes of this question reverberated through his mind, a relentless refrain amplifying his regret. The weight of his unspoken words hung in the air, an oppressive force that fueled the anguish that clenched his chest. Each missed opportunity to bare his soul to her became a searing regret, intensifying the internal turmoil.
Why hadn't he reassured her that his heart belonged to her, not Mahi? The realization of his failure to communicate the depth of his feelings became a haunting specter in his thoughts. The unspoken assumptions, the silent spaces between their words, all now seemed like missed chances to bridge the emotional gap. The words he should have uttered lingered in the room, unsaid and regretful.
The room, bathed in the harsh reality of shattered love, bore witness to Murtasim's unraveling emotions. His eyes fixated on the crumbled divorce papers scattered on the ground, a poignant symbol of the bond that now lay in ruins.
In a surge of frustration, he picked up the divorce papers, his hands trembling with a mixture of anger and despair. With a vehement motion, he tore them away as if erasing the legal confirmation of their separation could somehow mend the shattered fragments of his heart. The symbolic act carried an intensity of emotion, a futile attempt to undo the irreversible damage inflicted upon the connection he had shared with Meerab. The room bore witness to this act of desperation, silent and unyielding, as the torn pieces fluttered to the floor, echoing the irreparable nature of their strained relationship.
As his pain deepened, a revelation struck him with searing clarity. Meerab couldn't have done all of this alone. Someone must have assisted her in obtaining the divorce papers. Murtasim's eyes burned with a mix of betrayal and realization. He knew who had facilitated her departure, and the thought only fueled the flames of his torment.
_______________________________
Murtasim briskly walked through the corridors of Khan Haveli, tears streaming down his face and anger seething within him. "FARUKH! FARUKH!" he bellowed like a man possessed as he stormed into the living room.
Maa Begum, alarmed by Murtasim's disheveled state, hurriedly made her way to him, concern etched across her face. "Murtasim, what happened? Why are you—" Before she could finish, Murtasim's gaze locked onto Farukh, and he launched himself towards him.
A forceful punch landed on Farukh, sending him sprawling to the ground, blood trickling from his split lip. "HOW COULD YOU? IF YOU KNEW THAT SHE WANTED TO LEAVE, YOU SHOULD HAVE TOLD ME! HOW COULD YOU LET HER GO LIKE THIS?" Murtasim's voice echoed with palpable anger and desperation.
Maa Begum, with a mix of worry and reproach, helped Farukh to his feet. "Shouldn't I be asking you that, Murtasim? How could you let her leave?" Farukh counter-questioned, momentarily halting Murtasim's anger. "She loved you, damn it. She told you that, and yet you pushed her away. She's human too, with emotions and limits. No one deserves to spend their whole lives in a loveless marriage. She couldn't endure it any longer, and she left. I did what I thought was best."
Farukh's words hung heavy in the charged atmosphere as Murtasim's eyes darkened with frustration. The room crackled with tension as anger and guilt fueled Murtasim's instinct to launch himself at Farukh once again. However, Maa Begum intervened, stepping between the two men with an aura of authority that commanded attention.
"Enough!" she exclaimed, her eyes flashing with a potent mixture of concern and sternness. "Violence is not the answer, Murtasim. Farukh, explain yourself calmly."
Farukh took a deep breath before beginning, "Meerab came to me a week ago."
Meerab closed her eyes, gathering her strength. "I need a favor," she admitted as Farukh gestured for her to take a seat on the sofa.
As she settled, inhaling deeply, Meerab shared her heartfelt revelation. "Farukh, I—I want to go back to London," she confessed, prompting a look of confusion from Farukh. "Okay, I'll get your seats booked. Would Murtasim go with y—"
"No, Farukh, I—I want to go back, and I don't plan on returning," Meerab clarified, her tone resolute but shaky.
"Meerab, is this because of the whole Malik Zubair thing? He's arrested now, didn't Murtasim tell you?" Farukh inquired, attempting to understand the root cause.
"Farukh, I tried. I tried so hard to stay. Despite knowing that Murtasim didn't love me, I chose to stay, but I can't bear any of this anymore. I cannot bear being in a loveless marriage anymore," Meerab confessed, tears welling up in her eyes.
"Meerab, that's not true. Murtasim—" Farukh began, trying to offer reassurance.
"Loves me? No, Farukh, he doesn't," Meerab confessed, her voice strained with the weight of unspoken pain. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks as she bared her heart. "And I don't think he ever will. Please, I need you to understand my position here. No more sweet-talk. I'm already broken, and I can't entertain any more delusions. You've said before that Murtasim would move on from his past, but the reality is he doesn't love me, and nothing can change that."
Feeling a profound sense of helplessness, Farukh sat close to her, offering a silent comfort that transcended words. "I—I'm sorry, Meerab," he stammered, unable to find words to ease her pain.
"It's not your fault. I'm just tired now, and I want to go back home," Meerab said with a drained voice, her weariness echoing through every word. The weight of her exhaustion tugged at Farukh's heart.
"Okay. I'll get your ticket for you, Meerab," he promised.
As their eyes met, Meerab hesitated before revealing one more painful truth. "And there's one more thing." Farukh nodded, prompting her to say.
"I want a divorce." Farukh's eyes widened in surprise and concern, realizing the depth of Meerab's anguish.
"And that's how she had asked me to arrange her ticket and the divorce papers. I tried to talk to her, but she—she looked so broken, so vulnerable that I just couldn't convince her. She had taken a promise from me not to tell you anything. And, quite frankly, I wouldn't have said anything as well. Murtasim, you never deserved Meerab in the first place," Farukh spat, his anger and disappointment palpable as his words cutting through the air and stinging Murtasim like a bitter truth.
"I—I need to go. I need to bring Meerab back. I—" Murtasim struggled to find the right words, attempting to rush outside, but Farukh firmly gripped his arm, halting him in his tracks.
"Stop, Murtasim. She said—she said that she doesn't want to see you again," Farukh conveyed with a tone that carried the weight of Meerab's decision.
The room seemed to shrink around Murtasim as he felt suffocated. The walls closed in on him, Meerab's laughter echoed hauntingly in his mind. Her tear-stained face, the silent suffering she might have endured—all of it crashed down on Murtasim like an overwhelming wave. Breathing became a struggle, as panic gnawed at him, and the weight of the truth pressed down on his chest. The room felt like a cage, trapping him with the echoes of what once was.
In that constricted space, Murtasim crumbled. Falling onto his knees, he wailed out loudly, tears streaming uncontrollably as he screamed in agony. "I love her. I love her so much. How could she leave me like this? After everything we've been through, how could she just leave?" he cried out, the raw pain of abandonment consuming him.
Maa Begum and Farukh rushed towards him, the atmosphere heavy with shared grief. Maa Begum, her own eyes welling up with tears, held Murtasim close as he released the flood of emotions that had been dammed up.
The room resonated with Murtasim's anguished cries, a symphony of heartbreak and despair. Maa Begum, cradling Murtasim in her arms, felt the weight of his sorrow as tears mingled with her own. Farukh, standing nearby, shared in the palpable grief, realizing the depth of the wounds inflicted upon Murtasim's heart.
As Murtasim's wails echoed, the painful truth of Meerab's departure settled like a heavy fog. Farukh, torn between empathy and the need to offer some form of solace, spoke softly, "Murtasim, I know it hurts. But sometimes, we have to face the consequences of our actions, or inactions. Meerab needed more than what you could give her, and she made a difficult choice for her own well-being."
The words, however well-intentioned, felt like salt on Murtasim's wounds. He clutched onto Maa Begum, seeking refuge in the maternal comfort that had always been a constant in his life.
As the storm of emotions raged within him, Murtasim's mind became a chaotic canvas painted with memories of moments shared with Meerab. The warmth of her smile, the sound of her laughter, and the gentleness of her touch—all now mingled with the bitter taste of regret.
Maa Begum, holding back her own tears, whispered words of consolation. "Murtasim, love is complex, and sometimes it takes time to understand its intricacies. Meerab chose a path she believed was best for her. It doesn't diminish the love she had for you, but it speaks to the depths of her pain."
The revelation that Meerab had sought Farukh's help, the promise extracted, and the realization that she had endured her suffering in silence—each piece of the puzzle intensified Murtasim's agony as he continued to sob.
Farukh, choosing his words carefully, added, "You have to give her the space she needs, Murtasim. And maybe, after some time, she might find her way back to you."
Maa Begum held Murtasim tighter, offering silent support in the face of an inconsolable loss. The room, once a sanctuary, now bore witness to the unraveling of a love story that had seemingly come to an abrupt and heartbreaking end.
_______________________________
Two months had passed since Meerab left, and Murtasim had succumbed to the haunting solitude of his room, a refuge that mirrored the self-imposed isolation of his past. It was as if the clock had turned back eight years, and the echoes of that wounded, twenty-three year old Murtasim resonated through the silent corridors of Khan Haveli.
Within the confines of his room, Murtasim found an odd solace, surrounded by the tangible remnants of Meerab's presence. Opening her cupboard, he clung to her clothes as if holding onto the last vestiges of her essence, his tears staining the fabric that still carried her lingering scent. The room itself became a sacred space, adorned with the memories of shared laughter, whispered conversations, and the closeness they had once known.
Every corner held a piece of Meerab – her arrays of skincare products neatly arranged on the dresser, her jewelry delicately placed, and the necklace he had gifted her left behind as a poignant reminder. It was a silent testament to her departure, a deliberate act to sever ties with the life they had built together. The emptiness of the room mirrored the hollowness in Murtasim's heart, each object a silent witness to the love that had slipped through his fingers.
As nightfall descended, Murtasim's grief became palpable. Holding onto Meerab's picture frame, he sought solace in the captured moments that now seemed like distant echoes of a once-vibrant life. The laughter, the shared dreams, and the warmth of her presence were now painful echoes that reverberated in the stillness of the room.
The void left by Meerab's absence echoed louder each night, the weight of loneliness settling heavily on Murtasim's shoulders. The room, once a sanctuary of love, now became a mausoleum of memories, each corner holding the bittersweet remnants of a love that had slipped away.
Murtasim tried to turn back to alcohol, as a form of solace to his racing mind but he couldn't even drink anymore. The smell of whiskey triggered memories of Meerab. "I hate the smell of alcohol, and that's just bad for your health as well. So it's better if you let go of that habit, Mr. Khan," her voice echoed with a blend of concern and reproach. The haunting resonance of her words pushed him to discard all the bottles he had accumulated, the clinking sound as they hit the bottom of the trash can echoing his surrender to a habit that now tasted bitter in the absence of her presence. However, his heart took him to another place.
Murtasim entered the kitchen with a heavy heart, seeking solace in Meerab's familiar ritual of making hot chocolate, a beverage that held echoes of her fondness. As he reached for the ingredients, memories flooded his mind, vividly recreating a scene of shared laughter.
Meerab, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm, clasped her hands together as if orchestrating a grand symphony of flavors. "Oh, come on, Mr. Khan, do you even know how serious I am about the scientific importance of marshmallows in hot chocolate? It's a delicate balance of sweetness and fluffiness that can't be taken lightly!"
Murtasim chuckled, his laughter escaping as a balm for his troubled soul. He couldn't help but be captivated by Meerab's earnest expression. "Marshmallow science, you say? I had no idea it was such a profound field of study."
Meerab, feigning offense, gave him a mock offended look. "Mr. Khan, marshmallowology is no laughing matter. It's a delicate dance of flavor fusion and texture mastery. I'm considering writing a thesis on it."
Murtasim burst into laughter, the sound filling the kitchen and momentarily dispelling the heaviness in the air. Meerab, though slightly wounded by the lack of understanding for her marshmallow enthusiasm, couldn't help but pout.
Wiping away a tear of laughter, Murtasim looked at Meerab with a mix of amusement and sincerity. "You may laugh, Mr. Khan, but when the marshmallow revolution comes, you'll thank me for my dedication to this delicate science."
Still chuckling, Murtasim lightly ruffled her hair as he replied, "I'll be the first to join your marshmallow brigade, Meerab. Let me know when the revolution starts," their shared laughter creating a symphony of joy in the room.
As Murtasim sipped the hot chocolate, the warmth of the beverage mingled with the bittersweet taste of nostalgia. The memory, a fleeting moment frozen in time, brought tears to his eyes, the contrast of joy and sorrow etched in the delicate dance of marshmallowology that he now held close to his heart.
_______________________________
Murtasim found himself in the familiar space that had once brought him comfort. The towering trees, the fragrance of jasmine, and the gentle breeze that once soothed his soul now seemed to echo with an unsettling melancholy. As he sat on the bench with a heavy heart, near Mahi's grave, the tranquility of the surroundings intensified the distress that gripped him.
Lost in the weight of his emotions, Murtasim lowered his head in silent contemplation. A phantom touch on his hand startled him, and as he looked up, he found Mahi sitting beside him. Her presence, though ethereal, brought a certain calmness to the tumult within him. With tired eyes, he gazed at her as she offered a tender smile.
"Mahi," his voice trembled in a whisper, struggling to articulate the pain within.
"Murtasim, what happened? Why do your eyes hold so much pain? Malik Zubair has been punished for his sins; yet, why do you look so defeated?" Her voice, soft as a gentle breeze, lingered in the air.
"She left me, Meerab left me," Murtasim's voice broke, the anguish palpable in his words. "She thinks—I can't bear the thought that she believes I see her as a replacement for you, but—"
"But you don't. I know that," Mahi interrupted, her words cutting through the sorrow. Murtasim's surprised eyes met with hers.
"Murtasim, it's quite obvious. You love her, more than you could ever love me," Mahi spoke, capturing Murtasim's gaze with an understanding that transcended the boundaries of the living and the departed.
As Murtasim tried to gather words to say something, Mahi gently shushed him with her finger on his lips. "I'll be the one talking today," she asserted gently, and Murtasim nodded, the pain etched on his face.
"Murtasim, I don't think you've noticed this, but you came here after months, four months to be accurate. Remember how there wasn't a single day when you wouldn't come here? But after you got married, your frequent visits stopped. And then today, when you came, you didn't greet me with 'my love.' You chose to sit on this this bench instead of being close to me. And even after the panchayat, you went back home to Meerab because she is where your heart lies. Murtasim, all these things make it quite obvious that you've moved on." Mahi's words carried a profound weight that Murtasim struggled to comprehend.
"Mahi, I—" Murtasim tried to articulate words, guilt encircling him, but Mahi smiled.
"You don't have to give me justification, Murtasim. You deserve this. You deserve to move on. You might have loved me, but that was way before Meerab came into your life. You have struggled enough, Murtasim. You might think that this was love tying you down to me, but it was actually your guilt." Mahi spoke, her words a gentle but piercing revelation.
"The guilt of us having an argument, the guilt of not being able to bid farewell to me, the guilt of me dying because of your family enmity. This guilt had engulfed you to such an extent that you started punishing yourself. You punished yourself by trapping yourself into this abyss that was drowning you until Meerab came with her bubbly presence and brought you back to the light of life." Mahi continued, her voice carrying the weight of insight.
"You stopped yourself, tried to draw a line, but she was able to bring out the Murtasim that once existed, the one you had buried somewhere deep, the Murtasim that I had fallen in love with." Mahi confessed as she smiled.
"And in the midst of it all, you didn't even realize how and when you fell in love with her. Even when you rejected her, you know deep down that you were in love with her." The truth in Mahi's words struck Murtasim like a tidal wave, the realization crashing over him in waves of grief and understanding.
Murtasim's eyes met Mahi's misty ones as she offered a tender smile. "Murtasim, you love Meerab. You love her so much because she was there for you when you thought no one could love you. When you believed you weren't worthy of being loved, she loved you. That's why I say you love her more than you could ever love me. And it's okay. Sometimes, love is a journey that takes unexpected turns, leading us to places we never imagined." Mahi's words lingered in the air, carrying a bittersweet melody of acceptance and understanding.
"Embracing love again doesn't diminish what we once had, Murtasim," Mahi continued with a gentle reassurance. "You've faced the depths of your own guilt, punishing yourself for circumstances beyond your control. Now, finding solace in Meerab's love is not a betrayal to the love that once existed between us but rather it's a testament to the resilience of the human heart. Love can bloom again, and you shouldn't bear the weight of guilt for allowing yourself to experience it once more. Meerab is your second chance at happiness, a chance to let go of the burdens that have haunted you for far too long." Mahi's words carried a soothing cadence, urging Murtasim to release the shackles of guilt and embrace the prospect of a renewed love.
The atmosphere became charged with an ethereal energy as Murtasim's hands held onto Mahi's, tears falling freely. He could feel her presence, comforting and gentle, as her fingers caressed his head, a gesture that transcended the boundaries between the tangible and the intangible. Murtasim's sobs echoed through the tranquil cemetery as Mahi imparted her final words.
"You have to let me go, Murtasim. That's the only way you will be able to start your life with Meerab, Free yourself from this burden that wasn't even yours to bear in the first place." Mahi's voice resonated with a spectral tenderness. Her words were not just heard but felt, a balm to the wounds that had festered for far too long. Murtasim's tear-streaked face looked up at her, a silent plea etched in his eyes.
"Today, I free you from all shackles that have been binding you down here," Mahi's voice held an otherworldly serenity, "because that's the only way you can embrace your love for Meerab to the fullest and that is what she truly deserves."
With a solemn grace, Mahi gently withdrew her hand, leaving Murtasim in the quiet solitude of the graveyard. Her silhouette moved away, but before fading into the brilliance of an otherworldly light, she turned back one last time. A poignant smile adorned her face, a sorrowful acceptance of their shared fate. A lone tear traced the contours of her cheek, a tear that mirrored the shared pain and the impending separation.
Murtasim, through his tears, managed a smile, a silent acknowledgment that he was ready to move forward. As Mahi vanished into the radiant glow, Murtasim's cries lingered in the air. He cried for their shared memories, for the love that once defined them, and for the tragedy that had torn them apart. The graveyard, once a place of melancholy, now cradled the weight of closure and the promise of a new beginning.
_______________________________
The room was once again shrouded in shadows as Murtasim laid in his bed, feeling an inexplicable emptiness without Meerab by his side. The absence of her laughter and the warmth of her presence left him tossing and turning, grappling with a longing he couldn't quite possibly comprehend.
Unable to resist the pull, he reached for his phone on the bedside table. The glow from the screen illuminated his face as he unlocked it, fingers moving with a sense of urgency. Meerab's Instagram opened, a portal to a world that Farukh had mentioned about once.
As he scrolled through her public profile, a mosaic of vibrant images unfolded before him – a fusion of culinary delights and breathtaking landscapes. Each picture painted a vivid story of her life, from the tantalizing dishes she had prepared to the mesmerizing beauty of the places she had explored. In every frame, she was present, her radiant smile breathing life into moments that seemed to have been missing for far too long. She looked nothing short of heavenly.
Her Instagram, a treasure trove of diversity, showcased a range of content from silly and funny snapshots to serious modeling pictures. It captured her essence in moments spent with her father and the children of the orphanage to the pictures she had taken in the gaon with those "baby goats", each shot weaving a tapestry of her multifaceted life. The curated collection reflected not just her visual aesthetics but also the depth and richness of experiences that shaped her world.
Amidst the gallery of memories, it was a particular photo that caught his eye – a snapshot of Meerab in the heart of Paris. Dressed in a pristine ensemble of white straight pants and a tucked-in shirt, she radiated an effortless elegance that transcended the confines of the photograph.
"I actually love Paris," Meerab's voice echoed in his mind once again as Murtasim's eyes fixated on the details that seemed to intensify the ache in his chest. Her hair, fashioned in a loose bun, hinted at a carefree spirit, but it was the bold red lipstick that adorned her lips that captivated him. The vivid hue accentuated the curve of her smile, and he could almost hear the melody of her laughter echoing through the stillness of the room.
As he stared at the photo, a cascade of emotions flooded over him – a mix of desire, admiration, and an undeniable yearning for the woman who had captured his heart. In that solitary moment, Murtasim found himself caught in the delicate dance of emotions, a dance he had been avoiding but could no longer deny.
Meerab's Instagram had become a window into a world he desperately wanted to be a part of. He yearned to be a presence in her life, to share in her happiness, console her sorrows, and above all, be the reason for the radiant smile that adorned her face.
Murtasim's gaze then caught on the newer pictures of Meerab, a subtle pain tugging at his heart as he noticed the changes in her appearance. Her once chubby cheeks now slimmed and her tired eyes held her struggles that seemed to mirror his own. Her smile, once radiant, now appeared almost forced, and it pained Murtasim's heart to witness her in such a state. Despite his desire to intervene and alleviate her pain, the instructions from Farukh and Maa Begum were clear – distance and time were what she needed. But Murtasim hated it, he hated feeling powerless in the face of circumstances that demanded patience and restraint.
However, strolling by, Murtasim caught a sight that widened his eyes, with newfound determination. An idea sparked in his mind, a glimmer of hope illuminating the darkened corners of his heart. This was his chance, an opportunity to bridge the chasm that had separated them for a month. A small smile tugged at the corners of Murtasim's lips for the first time in weeks. He knew what he had to do. Distance and time can go out of the window because he wanted his wife back, and Khan Murtasim Khan would make sure to do whatever it took to win over his Meerab once again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Double the update, double the trauma. In all honesty i cried for good 40 minutes when i wrote that Mahi scene. And brownie points for those who guess the inspiration behind that scene(hint: its a scene from a bollywood movie)
But yeah what are your expectations from the upcoming chapters? Oh and mini spoiler, but Murtasim is going to have a 180 degree transformation and even the thought of it is making me laugh so you guys and Meerab should really buckle up for it!!!!