Meerab left with Bakhtu sending a last look at Murtasim, and the fire in her eyes burned through him. Murtasim sighed and took solace on the sofa, as he prepared himself to deal with the emotions and thoughts Meerab's words had left behind. Meerab did not understand the intricacies of this world but her words had left an impression on him. The abduction, initially conceived as a calculated move, now appeared to be a dangerous gambit, potentially placing his family in even greater danger. And Malik Zubair, though seemed indifferent at his father's abduction but any unexpected reaction can be expected from a reckless man like him and trepidation of such put Murtasim in a vulnerable position. Meerab had unknowingly convinced him to release Malik Mukhtar, but the imperative of reclaiming his land weighed heavily on his shoulders. Murtasim sighed as he contemplated which path to take ahead.
The decision to let Malik Mukhtar go without securing any advantageous position gnawed at Murtasim's strategic resolve. As the weight of responsibility bore down on him, the fear of harm befalling Meerab surged within Murtasim, propelling him to rise from the sofa. His countenance transformed into that of a resolute man, his determination etched across his face as he stepped into the room where Malik Mukhtar was held captive. Confronting the older man, Murtasim was met with a frigid glare, a silent exchange of intensity that underscored the gravity of the situation. "Salaam, Malik Mukhtar. Aap soch rahe honge main yaha khud kyun aaya hoon," he began, his voice resonating with a firm determination that sought to bridge the chasm between captor and captive.
"Hm," Malik Mukhtar hummed, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes as he met Murtasim's unwavering gaze.
"Wo isliye kyunki aapke bete ko aapki fiqr to nahi hai," Murtasim's words prompted Malik Mukhtar to avert his gaze, a shadow of shame casting itself upon his weathered face. "Par ab main aapko aur pareshan nahi karna chahta," Murtasim declared, the firmness in his voice cutting through the charged silence of the room.
This proclamation compelled Malik Mukhtar to look back at him, his expression now a mosaic of emotions-guilt, gratitude, and vulnerability intertwined in a complex dance. "I am letting you go," Murtasim conceded, an unspoken defeat echoing in his voice, revealing the internal conflict that raged within him. As he turned to leave, Malik Mukhtar caught his arm, gratitude and vulnerability intertwining in his words. "Murtasim Khan, shukriya, mere saath ye karke hi sahi, tumne mujhe mere bete ki asliyat dikha di, ye ehsaan rahega tumhara mujh par."
Murtasim nodded, then left the room in fast paces, not letting the defeat weigh him down in front of his men.
_______
Meerab was pacing up and down in their room, her face a mirror of distress and anxiety. Murtasim wasn't home yet and now that she knew what he was upto, it left her with many conflicting thoughts and emotions. On one hand, she understood what he was doing, understood his need for revenge and her heart pained at the feeling of defeat he must be feeling all this while, but on the other hand she could not agree with his ways, even if it was the feudal lords way.
The wait felt like hours to her until he was finally home. She braced herself to meet him anticipating another confrontation regarding her careless behaviour. But as Murtasim entered the room, and her anxious gaze met his. She found him to not as a furious storm, but as a figure of dejection. Meerab's searching eyes asked questions, as she looked onto him longer. She had braced herself for the anger she thought he'd unleash, but instead, she found a man battered not by rage, but by a profound sense of defeat.
Meerab's heart ached at the sight of Murtasim's dejected form, a far cry from the fiery determination she had come to expect. It was as though the very essence of his being had been drained, leaving behind a hollow shell.
Murtasim's journey to the sofa was a slow, measured shuffle, each step carrying the weight of defeat. His gaze remained fixed on the ground as he lowered himself onto the sofa. His hands, trembling slightly, found refuge on his face, a feeble attempt to conceal the turmoil of emotions raging within.
