Ishq

Ek Haseen Khwaab| 14



Murtasim woke up early in the morning looking at the morning sun and the sofa. He closed his eyes once again, realising he liked his dream more than reality. He heard birds from the distance, it was raining again, he had to go outside, looking at the rainy weather he felt gloomy, why was he sad?

He didn't want to look at her, but his eyes automatically went to her. He found her sleeping diagonally on the bed, her legs hanging off the edge. Her face was peaceful, her hair covering half of her face. The blanket laying somewhere on the ground, Murtasim sighed.

He tried to shake the thoughts out of his head. How was he already so attached to her? She had betrayed him, but he couldn't help but want to adjust her legs, so she laid more comfortably. Here, she had destroyed his entire life, and he was worried for her comfort. What was happening to him?

Maheer liking Usama hadn't affected him to this extent. Marrying Mahjabeen had made him upset only for her. He felt sorry for her. He felt guilty. But now, when he realised it was her who played the game, it hurt more than he thought it would.

Where were these emotions coming from? Where was this pain coming from? Wasn't Maheer his love... then why did Mahjabeen's betrayal hurt more than losing Maheer to Usama?

Murtasim couldn't sleep. He moved quietly, in the half-light, drawn inexorably to her side. There she lay,  wrapped in sleep's embrace, her breath a gentle cadence in the storm of his emotions. He reached out, a hesitant hand hovering over her form, the urge to comfort her warring with the sting of betrayal.

Mahjabeen... what are you doing to me?

The room held a chill, the discarded blanket signalling her restless sleep. With a softness he didn't know he possessed, he lifted her legs back onto the bed, tucking the blanket around her with a care that belied his inner chaos. He was a confused man, caught between the shores of love and hate.

As the first light of day painted the world in hues of gold and red, Murtasim sat back on his heels, watching her. The contours of her face, softened by dreams, seemed to mock him with their tranquillity.

How could she be so serene when she had set their lives ablaze?

The rain ceased. In this moment, it was just him, the whisper of rain, and his wife who had become his paradox. The dawn of understanding was breaking, his patience wearing off and with it, the realization that the heart is a mysterious creature, capable of holding love and hurt in the same beat.

He closed his eyes, remembering his days with his father, "Baba aap Ammi ko kuch kehte kyun nahi?"

Shahanawaz Khan had let Gul Khan walk over him, insult him, and he never spoke. Bashar called his father a weak man, a man without a spine, a man who couldn't tame his wife. But Shahanawaz Khan never spoke up. He would cover Murtasim's ears whenever Gul screamed at him, but through the gaps in his finger, every word pierced his heart. 

He was his father's only solace, the reason behind his smile, and Murtasim wanted nothing more than making him happy. But sometimes even he got tired of his father's weakness, his father couldn't protect him...

Murtasim realised he was turning into his father by not confronting Bakhtiyar Khan and Mahjabeen. His male ego took a strike, 'Murtasim, you can't be weak'.

It stopped raining, and he went to the washroom to freshen up. Mahjabeen, who was asleep, woke up slowly as the lights from the curtain pierced her eyes. She rolled around back to the position she was previously in, but the light still irritated her. Opening her eyes, it went to the sofa, and she saw the time on the clock.