Trouble. Meerab had invited trouble, all thanks to her impulsive mouth. Murtasim's mood had taken certain twists and turns, his automobile sped up at a fairly high number, and now, whilst sitting beside him, with her head cradled between her palms, she felt so aggravated.
It seemed like Murtasim Khan had lost all his four brain cells because there was no other explanation for his over-the-top reaction and dramatic behaviour.
Such a drama queen he was.
The reaction was indeed expected from a man like him who was so high of himself, who considered it all well and fine to discuss his past acquaintances in front of his wife, but vice versa of the case would transform into a red bull if anyone dared to ask his wife about her liking.
A. True. Hypocrite.
She chose not to request him to reduce the speed of the car this time, fully aware that it would be pointless. Her previous contemplations echoed in her thoughts, causing her to smile wryly. She felt so idiotic at even considering the shift in Murtasim's demeanour, it was all a facade. It all seemed to her as nothing but a misnomer; he remained the same Murtasim. The very same, egoistic and khud-pasand murtasim she had grown up with.
As soon as the imposing high iron gates of Khan haveli came into view, meerab emitted a sigh of relief, they were still breathing, they were alive. The car glided onto the driveway of the haveli, and Rumi slipped out of the car hurriedly, not before muttering a "Thank god" under her breath.
As meerab quickly picked up her bag and braced herself to open the door, her fingers swiftly clasped the door handle, her flushed fingers contacting the coolness of the door handle, the sound of the handle echoed off the car but the door did not open.
She tried again, and the sound of the sharp metallic click of the lock filled the air only to renounce it back to its original position with the door still locked.
What the fuck.
She turned to murtasim, who was sitting in the same stance, with his nose flared and his eyes on his phone, his thumb moving up and down motion, pretending to find something important in his phone. It was just a facade. He was only pretending, and meerab knew.
She huffed and snapped, "Darwaza kholo Murtasim, mujhe andar jana hai".
He ignored her again and continued his little pretence. What a Moron!
She clicked her fingers in front of him and spoke out loudly, "Murtasim...Hello? Murtasim".
He remained unfazed by her presence. What was the fun of locking her if he wanted to ignore the hell of her existence? Such a bipolar he was.
Meerab's mind flew back to a few years back when they both were in a similar situation, he had locked her and challenged her to open the car. Never the one to back off, she had practically straddled him, her fluffy pink dress splayed over her thighs, in total contrast to his jet-black trousers, her scandalous sleeveless dress leaving a little for the imagination.
Her back was pressed against the steering wheel, causing the horn to blow continuously. She had been too busy finding the controls, the dim light of the car providing little vision, she was totally focused on the task at hand, while finding the controls, she had moved a couple of times while muttering curses at him, only to murtasim grip her by shoulders too firmly, effectively fixing her in her place.
The realisation had dawned on her and like a small kitten, she had downcast her eyes and came back to her original seat. Never the one to remain silent and hush, Meerab And Murtasim, for the first time in their lives had let the awkward silence embrace them and silently restarted their journey to Hyderabad.
