Mahkoom

Chapter 4

Murtasim paced back and forth in the courtyard, each step echoing the turmoil in his heart. The sun had set, casting long shadows across the haveli, but there was no peace in the darkness. Inside one of the rooms, Meerab had locked herself away, refusing to speak to anyone. It had been two days since her discharge from the hospital, and in that time, she hadn’t said a word, her silence like a wall between her and the rest of the world.

The doctors’ words rang in his head on repeat. "An abortion is the only viable solution if you want to save her life." It was like a dagger to the chest, one that twisted with every breath he took. Meerab, however, had refused the very idea outright. Her determination, her refusal to even consider it, frightened him. He didn’t know what to do, how to convince her that this wasn’t just about the child, but about her life.

He had tried everything—reasoning, begging, pleading—but nothing could make her change her mind. The guilt of what he had done, the night that had resulted in this child, weighed heavily on him, but now all he wanted was to save her. He couldn't lose her. Not like this.

But how could he convince her when she refused to even look at him, let alone speak to him? How could he make her see that he didn’t want to lose her?

As a last resort, Murtasim found himself standing in front of the man who hadn’t said a word to him since Meerab’s return—Anwar Khan. Murtasim’s relationship with Meerab’s father had always been complex, built on a foundation of mutual respect. But now, that respect was shattered, replaced by anger, disappointment, and a deep, seething rage.

Anwar sat on the balcony, his back to Murtasim, staring out into the night. The moonlight highlighted the gray in his beard, making him look older, wearier. Murtasim knew this conversation would not be easy, but he had no other option.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward. “Chacha Sahab,” he began, his voice low, cautious.

Anwar didn’t turn around. “If you’ve come here to justify what you did to my daughter, save it,” he said coldly, his voice like ice.

Murtasim flinched but held his ground. “I’m not here to justify anything,” he said softly, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I’ve made mistakes—terrible ones—but I’m here for her. I’m here because I need your help to save her.”

Anwar’s shoulders tensed, and for a moment, he said nothing. Then, slowly, he turned to face Murtasim, his eyes filled with a fury that had been simmering since Meerab’s return. “You think you can save her now?” he asked, his voice dripping with contempt. “After everything you’ve put her through?”

Murtasim dropped his gaze, unable to meet the older man’s eyes. “I don’t know how to fix what I’ve broken,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “But the doctors… they’ve said that she won’t survive this pregnancy. The only way to save her is to… to…” He trailed off, his throat closing up.

“Kill the child,” Anwar finished for him, his voice harsh.

Murtasim winced at the bluntness of the words, but he nodded. “Yes. The doctors say it’s the only way to save her.”

Anwar’s expression darkened. “And you think she will agree to that?”

Murtasim shook his head, despair weighing down on him. “She’s refused. She won’t even consider it. I’ve tried talking to her, but she won’t listen. That’s why I came to you. Please, Chacha Sahab… you’re her father. Maybe you can convince her.”

Anwar’s eyes flashed with anger. “Her father?” he spat. “I failed her as a father the moment I let her go. She doesn’t see me as her father anymore, Murtasim. She doesn’t listen to me. She doesn’t even acknowledge me.”