Murtasim Khan, the rich feudal lord and successful businessman, surveyed the opulent Hyderabad palace grounds in Pakistan. His keen eyes scanned the vibrant guests, each more ornately dressed than the last. It was the wedding of his younger sister, Maryam, and he couldn't help but feel a swell of pride in his chest. Maryam, a stunning woman with brown hair and espresso coloured eyes, was marrying Naurez Khan, the son of a prominent political family. As Murtasim took in the festivities, his gaze settled on his own wife, Meerab, standing apart from the crowd.
Meerab, a successful lawyer in her own right, was dressed in a traditional shalwar kameez, her hair adorned with a delicate gold and pearl chandelier. She caught his eye and smiled, and he felt a warmth spread through him. It was a genuine smile, one that spoke of more than just social propriety. Murtasim knew that their marriage was more than just an alliance between two powerful families. It was a union of two souls, bound by love, respect, and mutual admiration.
As he walked over to her, he couldn't help but notice that Meerab seemed a little pale and was clutching her stomach.
"Meerab, are you feeling alright?" he asked, concern etching his voice. "You've seemed a bit off lately."
She forced a smile, her hand fluttering to her heart. "Oh, Murtasim, don't fuss. I'm just a bit overwhelmed with all the planning and preparation for the wedding. It's natural to feel this way." Her voice was steady, but he could detect a hint of desperation in her words.
He wanted to believe her, to assuage his own fears. "Of course, of course. I understand. It's just that you've been looking a bit pale lately, and you've been clutching your stomach. I was worried something might be wrong." He paused, studying her face for any sign of discomfort.
Meerab's gaze flickered away, and she took a deep breath. "No, no, I'm fine. Really. It's just... the stress, you know? It's been getting to me." She forced another smile, hoping it would convince him.
He wished he could believe her, but something in her eyes told him otherwise. "All right," he sighed, reluctantly accepting her lie. "If you're sure you're okay, I won't push it. But if you need anything, you know you can always talk to me." He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
Meerab nodded, unable to meet his eyes. She knew he was too smart, too perceptive not to sense that something was wrong. But she couldn't bring herself to tell him the truth just yet. Not here, not now. She'd find a way to broach the subject later, when they were alone. For now, she had to play the role of the doting wife, the happy bride's sister in law.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of music, dancing, and laughter. Meerab forced herself to join in the festivities, but all the while, she felt a growing tightness in her abdomen. It was getting harder and harder to breathe normally, as if a lead weight was pressing down on her chest. She excused herself from the party several times, claiming needing fresh air or the bathroom, but each time she returned, Murtasim's concerned gaze followed her like a shadow.
Finally, as the last guests were leaving and the servants began to clear the tables, Meerab could no longer deny the truth. She needed to tell Murtasim what was going on. She found him in the library, pouring himself a glass of water . The tension in his shoulders spoke volumes about the stress he must be feeling as well.
Meerab hesitated for a moment, gathering her courage. She took a deep breath and walked over to him. "Murtasim," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "There's something I need to tell you."
Murtasim turned to her, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern. "What is it, my love? Anything." He took her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "You can tell me anything."
