Meerasim : Dastaan - E - Ishq

Dil Mera Churaya Kyun

Murtasim had found Meerab at Rohail's flat. When he had called Rohail from Saba's phone, he could decipher from the conversation that Meerab had been at that leech's house for a good quarter of an hour.

It burnt him on the inside, fueled his core with desire to pummel Rohail Hadi alive, bury him in the depths of the Earth where he wouldn't even breathe the same air his wife did.

Did all that he do really have no meaning for Meerab? Was she blind to not see that he was pining for her and crushed in his unrequited love, living in the soul crushing mortification that the woman he had grown to love might not consider him worthy of her affections.

He treasured every touch, every glance, every interaction that they had - like it was these moments that he was stealing and cementing into memories to keep his Meerab - starved soul alive.

And with every indiscretion of hers, his heart broke a little. In her indifference, she left him cold.

Loving Meerab felt like his own personal hell sometimes, burnt by the touch of the flames and only desiring more.

When he saw that the bastard was holding his wife's hand, it was like someone had poured acid down his throat and he was choking on it.

He had beaten him till he was satisfied, till Meerab had held him back, pleading with him for Rohail's safety.

It was easy for her, wasn't it, to condemn her husband to hell by dismissing his feelings and then plead for another man's life in the same breath. Didn't  he deserve a tiny smidgen of affection from her, didn't he deserve for her treacherous lips to only call out his name, in love, in affection, in anger; in all the emotions Meerab would be kind enough to bestow on him?

Couldn't she see that she was killing him?

Even after all this had happened, she had stubbornly refused to apologize, claiming that Rohail was a classmate and she had a right to meet him.

Did she believe the lies she told him with so much conviction, without so much as an ounce of regret? How easy it had been for her to invalidate his feelings!

Well, two people could play the damn game. He had enough. The thought of him never being enough for her, her never reciprocating even an iota of the love he wanted to shower on her drained him mentally.

He needed a break and he made this amply clear to her - that he was going to the gaon, he did not know when he would return and hoped that this would give her some much needed sukoon. The word sukoon came out in a mix of spite and exhaustion, as if he wouldn't get to know sukoon till Meerab Murtasim Khan loved him.

Not even once did he mention Rohail, that speck of useless loser didn't matter, what mattered was that she was running far and fast away from him and he was getting tired of chasing her down. It was either find her and pin her down or give up. In an utter defeatist attitude, he chose the latter for the first time it came to his stubborn wife. What mattered to him was that his own expectations from her were proving to be his ruin, Rohail the pest had just acted as a bloody catalyst.

He was going away.
It would be good for them to have some time apart!

ღ

He had gone.
It wasn't good for her.

It had been a week of no contact.

His memories lingered over the room. When she woke up in the morning, she looked over to the sofa just to check if Murtasim had come back. A glimpse of him stretched lazily on that sofa would have been a sight for sore eyes. On the days she woke up before him, she had taken her time to commit details of his face to memory. The worry lines on his forehead, all disappeared to give way to a childlike innocence. Once, when she was tempted, she had stolen a caress, moving a stray lock of hair away from his forehead. He looked at peace when he slept, no angry contortions, no wild nightmares touched him.