Qubool Hai (MeeraSim FF)

42 - Shiddat

As soon as the spectators left, Murtasim gave no explanation before returning to his room. Unfittingly, the bed's posters were decorated with jasmine garlands, and the floor was scattered in loose white rose petals. It was futile in amending the air of betrayal that lingered upon their shoulders.

'Meerab, darwaza band kar kay aao,' he commanded with arms tied behind his back once again, looking out to the onyx window as the walimah lights twinkled outside like a swarm of fireflies. (Meerab, go and close the door.)

The way he didn't even bother looking at her irked her, as though she was sinful- she was not. Taking her sweet time, she pulled the strappy heels off, and whimpered at the sight of her constricted feet, marred from the tight straps, swollen from the stress of the tall heel and blistered on the back. She sat on the bed and stretched her bare feet, pulling the veil off her head to free herself from the slight backwards pull- she was achy, inside and out.

'Mainey kuch kaha hai,' he stated firmly, twisting to see her, but she returned the fiery glance- it was a charade of being unbothered by the sharp edge he displayed. (I told you something.)

'Mainey bhi tumse pehle kuch kaha tha Murtasim.' She got up in a huff and the air filled with the patter of her bare feet, and the noise of her beady clothes dragging of the hard marble floor as they trailed her- the door slammed and clicked, and she returned as a lioness. 'Aur Khani ke taur pe, mehmano ke saamne tumhein bardasht kiya tha.' (I too have said something to you Murtasim. And as your khaani, have tolerated you in front of the guests.)

As though assessing his prey, he took a step forward, but she pivoted and perched at her dressing table. She began removing her earrings, and whilst her eyes darted to him through the mirror, she informed, 'Ab badtameezi bardasht nahi karungi, meri baat sunne paregi.' There was mirror to distance them, and she needed the barrier to protect her. (I won't tolerate your impudence anymore, you have to listen to me.)

'Yeh badtameezi hai?' He asked rhetorically whilst she began fishing the pins out of her bun. (You call this impudence?)

'Maana iss ghar mei tumhari adalat chalti hai. Par mujhey gunahgar theraaney se pehle meri gavahi leni paregi,' she instructed, unclasping her necklace and her neck was left bare- only the slightest sheen from the heat highlighted her collar bone. (I admit your court governs this household but you can't pass a verdict on me without taking my statement.)

He was getting pissed off by her nonchalance and he roughly pulled off the weighty sherwani off and dropped it on the floor- it clanked like a metal armour, unneeded. There was a stark contrast in the way the sherwani was removed compared to how it was worn. Then pagh was haphazardly discarded into a puddle of clothes and his short hair was sticking out waywardly in defiance, a single strand curled onto his forehead- only adding to his worn-out state.

It would be a long night in removing the endless hair pins- even the idea tired her. The task was cut short when he towered behind her and assertively pulled at her soft forearm, forcing her to stand- face to face.

'Haan.... Badtameezi,' she repeated whilst glancing how at his hand like cuff, her heart failing to catch a steady rhythm under his intense gaze. (Yes, this is impudence.)

He let go, but breathed fire and her mask of confidence melted. She stuttered, and then began defending herself, 'Mujhey pata Bhi nhi tha kay Mir nay aisa-' (I didn't even know that Mir-)

'Nahi Meerab. Dont take his name.' His voice was deep, carrying the hurt of injury. (No meerab.)

'Murtasim,' she breathed in frustration, her eyebrows knotted at being interrupted so soon.

'Tum aaj meri biwi ho, mera naam hai tumhare mehendi mein, mera deeya hua jora pehn rahi ho,' he affirmed as his eyes bore into her, devouring her entirely. (You are my wife, my name is stained on your hands, you are wearing the dress I gifted you.)