Ik waari aaja door jaaney waaliye
Tenu haukan marda phiraan...

The hum of the powerful engines was a comforting blanket over the confines of Phoenix Air's Airbus A380. The atmosphere inside was relaxed. Dusk had begun to fall and the low ambiance lighting under the seats and lining the aisles encased the cabins in a soft, comforting glow. Meerab put the last of the dinner trays away and began preparing the tea and coffee requests.

"Meerab let's get these teas to the passengers and then start with the clean-up please. Have Tara help you do Premium Economy."

Maala, the senior flight attendant in charge and Meerab's supervisor spoke whilst locking up the tray cabinets.

Meerab nodded and loaded the beverages onto the trolley just as Karim, one of the first-class stewards, strolled in. Meerab nodded towards the trolley, asking him to help her distribute the drinks.

"Thanks Karim. That would've taken much longer if you hadn't helped."

Karim smiled in a way which was now familiar to Meerab. It was sheepish and cheeky at the same time, and Meerab had come to enjoy his company on her flights.

"How about you thank me properly. I've been dying to explore Doha. Let's go for dinner? Or even drinks! Or dessert? Whatever you like actually."

Meerab looked into her colleague's face, dull alarms pinging in her mind. She'd always taken Karim's enthusiasm and interest lightly because he'd never acted on them, and Meerab had always managed the situations with delicacy. Looking at him now, Meerab knew it was time to divert the situation without hurting his feelings or letting him know that she was aware of his interest in her.

"I've actually agreed to dinner with Saba and the girls. Maybe we can do dessert? Tanya has been going on about trying authentic Qatari desserts, so we can all go together?"

She had to hand it to him; his smile didn't waver as he nodded in agreement and murmured a 'sure'. Smiling, Meerab turned away and busied herself in the pre-landing clean up.

Murtasim Khan looked at the glittering landing markings on the ground as he aligned the plane towards the runway. Dropping to the suitable altitude, he commanded his First Officer to lower the landing gear and open the flaps on the wings of the plane. After that, it was like second nature; his hands moving in a subconscious routine, he prepared the plane for landing, his eyes looking at the runway ahead but his mind occupied with the recent events which had unfolded in Hyderabad.

"Tumhari pyaari biwi ko logo ki khidmat sirf hawa mai karna acha lagta hai. Yahan zameen par to Allah na karay, ghalti se bhi apne shohar ko ek chai ka cup bana ke de de."

His mother, as expected, had been on the defensive throughout their entire conversation. Murtasim had always known she'd never wanted Meerab as his wife, and she'd dropped enough hints for him to know exactly who she'd wanted. She had been adamantly against his choice in the beginning, had turned hesitant as things had progressed and had finally become somewhat bitter that he'd rejected the offer to marry into her family instead.

Of course, Meerab's un-Khaani-like attitude was infamous and also played a part in her hesitance, but he'd choose Meerab's spunk over any woman whose personality and attitude resembled a soaked doormat.

One Day Earlier

Khan Haveli, Hyderabad

From the moment he'd walked into his mother's personal drawing room and sat down, Murtasim, against his will, had had the picture of Meerab standing in his lounge looking so tragically resilient, her eyes cold with frozen betrayal, at the forefront of his mind. It made impartiality a slight challenge, but Murtasim strived for it nonetheless.

"Aaj kal ghar hi nahi aatay, beta. Tumhara ghar apne maalik ko yaad karta hai."

Murtasim had stared back at her, silent, before slowly nodding.

"Qatar mai kaafi masroofiyaat hain."

The almost imperceptible raise of her eyebrows told Murtasim exactly what she was thinking.

Salma Begum looked across the room at her son, who looked as composed as he always did, yet there was certain stillness about him. She knew the look; he looked like this whenever he'd be assessing a situation and had decided on his plan of action. Sure enough, his plan of action followed shortly.

"Meerab ne apko salaam bheja hai."

His mother's eyes widened a fraction before she nodded.

"Walaikum asalaam. Kaisi hai tumhari biwi? Itna lamba kaam aagaya uska ke abhi tak wahan hai?"

Murtasim's smile was abrupt and did not reach his eyes.

"Uski training chal rahi hai. Air hostess banda ek din mai nahi banta."

His mother's reaction to his words let him know that she hadn't known the specifics of Meerab's visit to Qatar; this was news to her. Pursing her lips, she let out a deep breath.

"Kya matlab? Air hostess ban ke woh kya karay gi?"

"Woh kya karegi ussey chorein. Aap batayein, aap kya karna chahti hain?"

His mother's brows rose.

"Mai wohi chahti hu jo har maa chahti hai; ke mera beta khushaal ho, apni zindagi mai pur-sukoon ho, uski biwi uska khayaal rakhay, uski zindagi ko roshan karay. Humari khandaani gaddi hai, uska mustaqbil Meerab ke haathon mai hai. Mein chahti hu wo uspe dehaan de. Ghar pe, tumpe dehaan de."

The room was silent as Murtasim looked at her, Meerab's face flashing in his eyes again.

"Phir to hum sab ek hi cheez chahte hain. Chalein, ye clear hogaya. Chai bulwa lijiye."

He leaned back on the chaise and saw bewilderment broke through her haughty expression as she realised the conversation had not gone on the path she'd paved. Nonetheless, she called for the maid to set the tea. He waited until the last plate of refreshments had been set. So did she. 

"Murtasim tum iski kaise ijaazat de sakte ho?"

There is was.

He raised an eyebrow in question.

"Meerab iss khandaan ki bahu hai, Khaani hai tumhari."

He remained quiet.

"Humaray yahan har Khanum kuch usoolon ki pabandi karti hain. "

Silence.

"Woh kaam kaise kar sakti hai? Aur woh bhi aisa kaam?"

Finally.

His head tilted to the side.

"Jab mai pilot ban sakta hoon to woh air hostess kyun nahi ban sakti?"

His mother's eyes widened as if he'd grown two heads.

"Tum usey apne aap se naap rahay ho? Murtasim woh tumhari biwi hai. Tumhari baat hi alag hai. Tumhara makaam aur hai, tum ussey khud ke saath kharra kaise kar sakte ho, beta?"

"Bilkul, har kisi ka apna makaam hota hai. Lekin maqaam mai barabari upar ya neeche honay se nahi hoti. Woh meri biwi hai, aurat hai; uska makaam, uski jagah apni zindagi mai mein tey karu ga. Aur iss hisaab meri jagah bhi tey hai. Jo mein, ek mard, kar sakta hu wo uske bass ki baat nahi hai, lekin jo cheezein woh kar sakti hai woh mere bass ki baat nahi hain. Iss se humaray makaam nahi badlay, sirf zimedariyaan alag hain."

His mother opened her mouth in disagreement but Murtasim wasn't done yet.

"Aur ek waqt tha jab meri bhi baat alag nahi thi. Mera makaam bhi meri gaddi se neeche bataya ja raha tha. Makaam hotay hi badalnay ke liye hain Maa Sahab." His voice was smooth yet razor-sharp, carrying slivers of something unknown; something which urged his mother to tread with caution.

Leaning forward, he picked up his teacup and saucer and took a sip.

"To tum ussey kaam karnay ki ijaazat de rahay ho?"

"Agar woh chahay, aur woh kaam sharafat ki hadd mai reh ke hosakta ho, to bilkul."

She waited with raised brows.

"Jo kaam usne apne liye chuna hai, usme koi aeb nahi hai, Maa Sahab. Ye mai aur aap dono jaante hain."

"Murtasim Khan, tum apni biwi ko akele adhi duniya ghoomnay ka ticket haath mai thama rahay ho. Aurat ko utni hi chut dete hain jitni woh seh sakay, warna woh haath se nikal jaati hai."

'Mujhe haveli mai ek decoration piece bana ke rakh detay Murtasim.'

Sitting there facing his mother with every ounce of rationality he possessed, Murtasim realised almost every accusation his wife had thrown was true. He wasn't going to question his mother directly, it would expose Meerab, but he'd already gotten most of the answers he'd needed.

"Woh poori duniya ghoom le, koi farq nahi padhta. Meerab ne apni marzi se mujhe shaadi ki hai, Maa Sahab. Razamandi ke rishton mai khud waapis aanay ka dil chahta hai. Woh waapis mere paas hi aaye gi. Bilkul jaise mein uske paas waapis aayu ga."

Salma Begum looked away. It always unnerved her when he openly spoke like this; like his heart had softened. For a woman. For Meerab. Emotion like this wasn't common in their life and she definitely hadn't expected it from her son. Sure, her own husband had loved her and always respected her, but great love stories weren't real. What had Meerab done to her son to make him become her knight in shining armour? The man who, despite his absolute authority, had always kept an open mind and valued opinion now couldn't tolerate a sideways glance at the slip of a girl. Her son, the man who only had  to lift a brow to intimidate a panchayat full of gun-wielding men, was advocating for a girl. He was willing to throw decades of tradition in the bin just to appease his wife. What kind of sorcery was this?

Murtasim sipped on his tea as he watched the flurry of expressions on his mother's face.

Time for Round Two.

"Waise bhi Maa Sahab, aap ne Waqas Chacha ko shaadi se pehle Meerab ki padhai aur kaam ke hawaale se tassali di thi. Humein woh bhoolna nahi chahiye."

The change in her expressions was the last nail in the coffin; she'd done it. She'd not only planned to treat Meerab like shit, she'd betrayed the man she had called a brother all her life. She would've broken every promise she had made to her late husband's cousin and close friend, and she would've done it without remorse.

Murtasim put the tea down. He was done with this conversation.

"Sab apne waaday yaad rakhein to unke liye behtar hoga, Maa Sahab."

Her eyes narrowed but Murtasim continued to look right at her, every fibre in his being letting her know that testing him this on wouldn't end well for anyone.

As Salma Begum looked at her son, she realised she'd miscalculated. She'd always thought Waqas would bend in respect of his late cousin and that once here, Meerab would be outnumbered. She hadn't realised standing between her and Meerab would be Murtasim, the only one who out-ranked every single one of them.

The wheels of the plane hit the ground and the familiar jolt of the plane landing had Murtasim instinctively pull back on the throttle to slow the plane down. Landing was routine and he was in his chauffeured car within the hour. The city lights blurred as the car sped towards The Mandarin.

Strange.

He'd left Hyderabad, and home behind and yet the journey back to the hotel felt like a sweet homecoming.

Meerab dusted the last of the pink eyeshade onto the edges of her lids and leaned back to examine if both eyes were symmetrical. Satisfied, she moisturised her hands, arms and neck with lotion before putting the cheetah-print wrap top over her black camisole. A spritz of perfume later she was out of the room to meet up with the rest of the gang downstairs.

As the lift descended, she wondered what the chances of bumping into Leena were. Her new 'friend' had been in a rush; apparently they had been hosting a dinner for some investors and had brought them back to the hotel for a night cap. Omar had been waiting for her.

'Hostess duties call. But let's find each other again soon! Believe you me, it's best if we stick together.'

With that, she'd given one last grin and disappeared in a swish of black and caramel. Meerab realised she hadn't even introduced herself. Not that the woman had needed an introduction, and what were these 'rumours' which had apparently been circulating about her and Murtasim?

Yikes.

The hotel entrance was silent when Meerab stepped out of the lift. They had all decided to meet at the entrance, but it seemed she was early.

Well, that was a first.

Walking up to the large gold and glass doors of the entrance, Meerab smiled at the doorman who opened the doors for her. Stepping out on the marble steps, she looked around the circular driveway and onto the sprawling gardens; there was no sign of them. Being early actually felt nice, she thought. Deciding to finally check out the lobby seating area for guests, Meerab turned back to the hotel just as a honk sounded.

She heard the car zoom up to the driveway before she'd even turned around to check the noise. Her smile ready to greet the rest of the group, she turned, careful not fall on the steps. Her brows furrowed as she took in the familiar car. The tinted window of the passenger side slid down but Meerab was too high up on the steps to be able to see inside. Frowning, she stepped down and leaned into the window, a gasp slipping out from her throat.

"Good evening, wife."

He'd let his stubble darken.

It seemed her elusive husband was finally back. With her face at the window, he seemed closer than he actually was in the confines of the car. Meerab narrowed her eyes, looking him top to toe.

"Good evening." She replied primly, her face the picture of calm.

And then promptly straightened, turned on her heel and climbed back up the steps. She heard the car door open but didn't stop until a hand grabbed hers and twisted her around. Her back hit the tall stone pillar at the entrance; her arm twisted in his the only barrier between her back and the pillar, and suddenly she felt short of air. If she'd thought he felt too close outside, him standing in front of her now left mere inches between their bodies. It felt like ages since she'd seen him, yet the way he felt up close, it was like he'd never left. Towering over her, he looked down and tilted his head.

"Excuse me?" his voice was rougher than she remembered.

She raised an eyebrow.

"Ye kya tareeka hai apne shohar se baat karnay ka?"

His brow rose and she looked at him in mocking apology.

"I'm sorry. Have a good evening."

"I am trying to."

Twisting her arm out of his hold, she folder her between their bodies.

"Try somewhere else please. Yahan kya kar rahay ho?"

Murtasim stepped back as his eyes travelled from her heels to her hair.

Why did she hide her waves with all this straightening?

She wasn't going to make this easy, and he wasn't to going to back down.

"Plans?"

"Hmm."

The ensuing silence made him raise his brows and look at her with mocking eyes, nodding his head in mocking encouragement. Rolling her eyes, Meerab looked away in annoyance.

"Dessert. Friends ke saath. Ab hatto please, mujhe sab ko dhoondna hai."

"Aao mai dessert khilata hoon. Jitnay strawberry milkshakes chaho pee jao."

Meerab's back straightened as she brought her face close to his, her eyes flashing with annoyance.

"Murtasim, just because mein bachpan mai strawberries kuch zyaada hi khaati thi, iska ye matlab hargiz nahi ke mai ab bhi har waqt wohi khati rehti hu. Insaan ki choices baray ho ke badal bhi sakti hain."

His half-smile disappeared and his gaze deepened as his eyes travelled up to the crown of her head and then back down to her eyes.

"Oh, I know."

Meerab looked up at him and noticed how he looked different; He'd tanned a little, his eyes serious and his face just gaunt enough to highlight his cheekbones even more than usual. He looked somewhat tired despite being dressed as smartly as he always did. And his eyes; his eyes were looking at her in the strangest of ways. His gaze was solemn with hints of tenderness and unease.

She had never seen such emotion in him; in fact she'd spent almost all her summers until the age of eighteen trying to get him to be anything other than mildly annoyed with his nose in a book or broodingly serious due to being knee-deep in panchayat issues. The only other time he'd let emotion shine in his eyes was their meeting after he'd asked her marry him; it had been gone in a split-second, but Meerab still remembered how his eyes had flashed how, after a prolonged silence, she'd looked up at him and agreed to become his wife.

The distance had crept up without warning; he'd changed five or six years ago. It wasn't that he'd previously been a best buddy or anything of the sort, but she'd always managed to sneak past his intimidating exterior barricades and it had given her a kick that Khan Murtasim Khan had only ever laughed with her; albeit short, reluctant laughs, nothing of the giggle or laughter fit variety. That pride had turned to confusion, anger and had finally reduced to resentment when he'd pulled back suddenly; she'd grown and developed her own opinions on how the world worked, and he'd all but stopped talking to her. Meerab was sure he had actively made an effort to avoid her at times over the years, and to this day, she wasn't sure what she'd done to deserve it.

Not liking where her thoughts were headed, Meerab blinked abruptly and looked past his shoulder at the entrance.

Where was everyone?

"Kahan thay tum?"

The words slipped out of her without warning and Meerab regretted them the second they did. He looked away and took a deep breath.

"Aao. Bata du ga."

Badtameez

Meerab wasn't sure what made her consider his offer, but this wasn't exactly the Murtasim Khan she'd gotten used to in Doha. Maybe it was the seriousness in his eyes and demeanour which made her say yes, she didn't know.

But agree she did, and was now once again encased in the dark interior of his beloved Mercedes and the car cruised down an overpass, providing a wonderful view of the city.

Angling her body towards her broodingly quiet driver, her face scrunched up in curiosity.

"Tumne yahan bhi wohi Mercedes rakhi huwi hai?"

Finally a reaction

The lost half-smile emerged, this time reaching his eyes. His head turned towards her, his eyes roaming from her mid-section to her face, his smile deepening.

"I think I've developed a type."

With that, his head was back to facing the road, leaving Meerab to tell herself the 'type' was a sleek, black German automobile and not a five-foot five-inch, brown-haired and brown-eyed Pakistani female.

The building they'd entered was a tall, glittering tower with a globe-like structure at the very top. As the mirrored lift ascended, silence prevailed. Murtasim watched the floor numbers change and Meerab watched Murtasim. His earlier mood had almost dissipated and Meerab now wondered if in an attack of nostalgic consciousness, she'd just agreed to another date with her husband. The shadows in his eyes weren't so dark anymore and his mouth seemed relaxed; had she imagined his unease earlier?

The lift halted and a doorman ushered them onto the top floor of the building. Meerab's eyes widened as she looked around; it felt like she'd stepped into a snow globe, but without the snow. The spherical space was entirely made of glass and engulfed in a hue of deep purple. The thickened glass tiles chinked as her block heels touched them and the glass enclosure all around the globe gave the illusion of a never-ending space. In the middle of the room was a thick pillar covered with mirrored tiles and there was an extended space on one side of the room which opened the globe onto an outdoor terrace. Tables were spaced out and intimately set up in the low lighting, both inside and outside.

Murtasim was murmuring something to their server as they walked, Meerab's head rotating in all directions to catch a proper look of the space.

They reached the archway to the open terrace and a gasp slipped out from Meerab mid step; the floor of the terrace was made entirely of glass and provided an exhilarating, and terrifying view of the ground they'd left many, many floors behind. If that wasn't enough, the floor seemed to be moving in the slightest of movements, not noticeable if you didn't watch the city go by.

Eyes with both fear and excitement, Meerab took a few steps before a hand snaked around her waist, guiding her towards a set of light brown, circular sofas with a round table decorated with candles, in between. Grabbing his hand where it had come to rest on her waist, she looked up into his enquiring face.

"Darr lag raha hai to andar baith jayein?"

Meerab tsked and tightened her hold on his hand to anchor herself as they reached the sofas. Sliding onto the soft leather, she felt him squeeze her hand once and looked up. Straight into his eyes. his arm resting on the high back of the sofa and the other hand in hers, he was bent down towards her and Meerab braced herself against the very familiar and sudden tightening of her abdomen as her breath hitched.

Murtasim looked at his wife in equal parts of indulgence and amazement. He had been in the worst of moods when he'd left Jinnah International, Karachi that morning. The conversation with his mother had successfully relayed his point, the panchayat issue was on its way to being resolved and he'd made a few million pounds before he'd had his morning coffee, and yet there had been a thundering cloud above his head the whole day. His cabin crew on-board had been on tiptoes and his staff in Doha had been anxiously wide-eyed whenever they'd been near him.

Zero productivity and half a packet of cigarettes later, he'd finally left Aspire Tower, the building which housed the Phoenix Air headquarters and his own personal offices, with one thought on his mind.

And she'd just appeared; like a fantasy materialising, she'd appeared on the steps of The Mandarin. He'd spotted her as he'd entered the circular driveway, and Murtasim had rammed his foot on the accelerator, the car almost flying across the space and halting at the steps just as she'd turned.

And suddenly the dark cloud had passed; the sun had peeked from the clouds and he'd realised it had been her.

The heavy feeling in his chest had been her; it was the thought of her being betrayed by people she'd loved; hurt and unable to ask anyone to tend to her wounds because revealing her secret would've fractured relationships. And above all, it was the thought of Meerab, clumsy, giggly Meerab who seemed to have space for everyone in her heart, marrying him despite what his family had done. The girl everyone had always described as pyaari, ziddi, masoom and a hundred other things, was also incredibly strong and faithful. She could've ran or simply backed out; she'd had every reason to.

Yet she'd sat across from him, just about visible behind the curtain of fresh flowers, and had uttered 'Qubool Hai' three times in an unwavering, solemn voice, all the while knowing she was surrounded by people who had harboured ill towards her. Her only reaction to his mother's actions had been to collect a few promises from him in order to secure her education and future, and buy time. His little lily had done some serious blooming.

He'd had tunnel vision in his avoidance of her during the past many years, and he'd missed how she'd evolved from a smart, kind and cheery girl to a young woman of emotional substance and integrity. The glimpse of wisdom he'd seen the night she'd said yes to their marriage hadn't been his imagination; 'sab ki pyaari' Meerab was turning out to be more of an enigma than he'd initially thought.

Meerab gulped.

He wouldn't do anything.

He couldn't; they were in a public place, even though the terrace was mostly empty. And most importantly, since when did they do stuff? Their past few interactions had altered the dynamics of their relationship, but Meerab refused to believe a few moments of attraction could segue into the sort of intimacy they seemed to be playing with. Dragging in a deep breath in, she was about to pull her hand back when he spoke; and confused her already-baffled mind.

"I'm sorry."

The words slipped out of Murtasim prematurely, but looking into her wide, brown eyes had made it seem like the right time.

Meerab's brow crinkled; this didn't seem to be going down the romantic path she'd thought. Her head bobbed in question.

Taking one last look at her face, Murtasim straightened and walked over to sit opposite her, his eyes keeping hers captive.

"Meerab, the life you see me living right now wasn't ever meant to be mine. Mein gaddi-nasheen hoon. Meray khandaan mai meri tarha ka har mard sirf gaddi-nasheen tha."

Meerab listened, her confusion mounting as she looked back at his grave eyes. He was sat back, his back straight, and the intense pride radiating from him was palpable.

"Meine apni zindagi mai har ek insaan se larr ke, apni pasand ko apni zidd bana ke apne liye apni marzi ki duniya banayi hai. Khandaan ke khilaaf jaana, apni marzi manwana; I get all this."

Meerab's back stiffened as she narrowed her eyes. The conversation was heading to a place she wasn't comfortable with. They already had this out once and he'd just listened; she'd spilled her heartache in an overwhelming wave of hurt and anger, and just he'd stood there silent.

"Tumne jo kiya, theek kiya. I know better than anyone that when someone comes for you or your dreams, you shoot first and look later."

Meerab's breath rushed out, her entire body feeling weightless as she stared at him in astonishment. Her eyes didn't move from his face even as the server arrived and placed bowls of something on the table, shook out her napkin and arranged it on her lap and said something Meerab didn't understand. She swallowed the wave of emotion threatening to drown her and tamped down the instinctive gratitude bubbling up; saying she'd done the right thing and letting her do it were dtwo different things. Blinking away the emotions, she looked him the eyes.

"Aur tum?"

There was a moment of silence before he took her breath away.

"I'll refill your gun when you run out of bullets."

Y'Allah, her heart was going burst out of her chest and combust.

Meerab's face was sombre as she looked at him, her face not betraying a single thought. Murtasim knew this was the hook moment; if they could just understand each other right here, right now, then damn the rest of the world; they'd make it.

And then the sun shone on the frozen, barren field of their relationship; her face changed expressions as the smallest of smiles emerged, reaching her eyes and lighting up her whole face as she looked at him from under fluttery lashes; exactly like a lily opening.

He didn't dare break eye contact, only allowing himself the softest of blinks; his face serious, his gaze on hers and hers intent, almost unblinking.

Two imperfect people with the strongest of wills, with an almost perfect understanding of the status quo; knowing that alone, they were enough, but together, they were untouchable.

The delicate skin at her throat shimmered as she gulped softly and with everything in him, Murtasim tried to convey that come hell or high water, he'd deliver the protection and integrity he'd promised her.

Slowly leaning over, he placed a fork in her bowl of desert and then sat back, his eyes on her the whole time.

It was traditional Qatari Esh Asarayah, a dessert made with pieces of bread, cream and topped with pistachio nuts; sweet and mushy enough to become the comfort food he suspected his wife would need after the conversation they'd just had.

She looked down at it and perhaps for the first time in her life, disregarded the food in front of her and looked back up at the man sat across from her.

It was them, the warm, Qatari sea breeze flowing as they gently twirled in the sky, and the sounds of the waves crashing on the shore down below; it was insanely perfect.

Hello dear readers, hope you're all well. Happy MeerAsim Reading! 💛

Photo inspo attached in the header above.

The scenes from TB which I've added pics of are to portray the expressions/feelings I want Meerab and Murtasim of HkP to have in their specific moments.

The last the few seconds of the gajray scene were really special because Meerab's little smile was new and seemed like a turning point , where she openly showed her pleasure/happiness at something Murtasim had done for her. This is the feeling I wanted to convey in the last few moments after their conversation.

Also, I personally love little, meaningful conversations which strengthen a couple's relationship overtime rather than one big conversation where everything is laid bare, so as Meerab says, baby steps :)

Let me know your thoughts.

Till next time, D xo