As the early morning light filtered through the window, Mahjabeen's heart fluttered with excitement. She couldn't resist the urge to capture Murtasim's essence on paper. With an impish grin, she gently shook him awake, the anticipation dancing in her eyes.

Murtasim, still groggy from his slumber, rubbed his eyes and blinked up at Mahjabeen. His voice was laced with sleepiness as he mumbled, "Aankhey band kardu?" (Should I close my eyes?) A mischievous twinkle in his gaze, he thought she woke him to just stare at his eyes.

Mahjabeen couldn't help but giggle at his drowsy inquiry, finding his endearing nature irresistibly charming. She playfully nudged him, her laughter dancing in the air, and replied in a teasing tone, "Phir faida hi kya?" (What's the point then?) Her words were accompanied by a mischievous smile, betraying her intention to capture his captivating eyes in her sketch.

As Murtasim obliged and kept his eyes open, Mahjabeen's nimble fingers danced across the paper, effortlessly capturing the contours of his face. With every stroke, she marveled at the way his features seemed to come alive under her touch.

His face, still drowsy and adorned with gentle morning stubble, held a captivating allure that she couldn't help but admire. As she sketched, she noticed the way his eyebrows furrowed slightly, creating an air of intrigue. His eyes, a deep pool of warmth and curiosity, sparkled with a hint of mischief.

A smile played at the corners of Murtasim's lips, a mix of contentment and curiosity about the final outcome of Mahjabeen's artistic endeavor. He couldn't help but be drawn to her focused expression, as she concentrated on capturing every nuance of his face.

The room was filled with a tender silence, interrupted only by the soft scratching of Mahjabeen's pencil against the paper. Time seemed to stand still as she translated her inspiration onto the page, bringing Murtasim's essence to life with every stroke.

In this intimate and playful moment, Mahjabeen's love for Murtasim intertwined with her artistic talent, creating a delicate harmony between the two. Mahjabeen's heart swelled with a mixture of love and admiration as she sketched, cherishing the opportunity to capture the beauty of the man before her. And in Murtasim's eyes, as he glanced at her every now and then, she could see the reflection of her own affection mirrored back at her, a silent testament to their playful, romantic connection.

As Mahjabeen continued sketching, a mischievous glint sparked in Murtasim's eyes.

Murtasim, with a slight smirk, tilted his head and whispered, "Pata hai, agar tumne mujhe iss sketch mein zyada khubsurat banaya, toh tumhari saheliyan jaljayengi."

Mahjabeen looked up from her sketchbook, a playful smirk curling her lips. She raised an eyebrow and replied, "Agar ye sketch accha bana toh mai apni saheliyon ko kyun dikhaungi! "

He chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling. "Ye bhi theek hai."

Mahjabeen pretended to ponder for a moment, tapping her chin with her pencil. "Hmm, agar maine aapko mooch ki chotti aur aik aankh ka chashma dediya toh baat banjayegi"

Murtasim feigned offense, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. "Mooch ki chotti aur aankh ka chashma? Mahjabeen, tumne mera dil tod diya! Mujhe laga tum meri shakal se zyaada meri seerat se pyaar karti ho."

Mahjabeen couldn't help but burst into laughter, her joyous sound filling the room. The sheer delight on her face was evident as she playfully nudged him, her eyes twinkling with amusement. Her laughter conveyed a sense of lightheartedness and carefree happiness.

However, as Mahjabeen went to throw away the dirty paint water, something unexpected happened. Murtasim hugged her from behind, causing her emotions to shift. The suddenness of his action triggered a mix of surprise and apprehension within her. Her laughter died down instantly, replaced by a startled expression.

Startled and feeling a bit creeped out, she called out in a slightly fearful tone, "Hasan Bhai?" Her voice trembled slightly, revealing her uneasiness in that moment.

Responding tentatively, Murtasim asked, "Mahjabeen jaani?" He was cautious, sensing her unease.

Realizing that it was Murtasim who had hugged her, she held his hand tightly, trying to discern the difference in the way it felt compared to when Hasan did it. Her grip tightened, seeking reassurance and comfort. Mixed emotions played on her face, reflecting confusion, relief, and a sense of longing.

"Aap haath pakadte hai toh bura nahi lagta magar..." she trailed off, struggling to put her thoughts into words. Her voice carried a blend of vulnerability and hesitation.

"Magar?" Murtasim prodded gently, his voice filled with concern.

"Kisne haath lagaya tumhe?... Hasan ne?" he mustered the courage to voice his question, as his hand trembled with anger.

"Bolona Mahjabeen!" Murtasim insisted, urging her to speak openly.

"Haa," she nodded, her eyes welling up with tears. "Haan, unhoney haath lagaya tha. Mujhe unka touch accha nahi lagta" Her voice trembled with vulnerability as she acknowledged the touch that had made her uncomfortable.

"Tumne mujhe bola kyun nahi?" Murtasim's voice held a mix of hurt and confusion.

"Bola tha aapko, hum jab Ammi Abbu ke paas gaye they, tab sab bola tha," she replied, her words choked with emotion.

"Tumne kaha tha tumhe darr lagta hai unse," he said softly, a hint of understanding in his voice.

"Haan, aapko samajhna chahiye tha," she responded, her voice wavering, as she tried to explain her fears and anxieties.

"Magar jaani, darr toh tumhe sabse lagta tha, Maa se, Mujhse..." Murtasim's voice was filled with concern and empathy.

"Mai aapse nahi darrti... Woh darr toh nikah k din hi khatam hogya tha," she claimed holding his hand, now trying to reassure him. She loved him, felt safe in his presence so how could she be terrified of the person who supported her when nobody was on her side, when she was all alone.

"Mahjabeen, ye sab kabse horaha?" Murtasim's voice carried a mix of shock and worry. His mind had stopped working, he was wondering if he was in some sort of sick dream.

"Abhi se nahi, humare walimey ke baad se. Kehte the ke woh mujhe pasand karte hai, main aapko chhod du. Aur... pichle hafte hi bol rahe they ki agar maine aapko talaq nahi diya toh aapko goli maar denge... Aur jab maine unko mana kiya, toh bole ki mujhe bhi maar denge..." Her voice cracked with fear and sadness as she shared the threatening ordeal she had been facing.

"Mahjabeen, tum ro kyun rahi ho?" Murtasim's voice quivered with a mixture of anger and anguish. He pulled her closer, holding her tightly as he tried to provide comfort to her.

"Mujhe laga tha ye baat sunkar aap sidha banduk uthayenge... Magar aapne meri baat ka aitbaar hi nahi kiya tha. Theek hai hu mai stupid, bawli, aur kam akkal, magar shohar ka farz nahi banta ki biwi ki hifazat karrey. Aap toh khud unke saamne sharminda ho gaye they," she said, tears streaming down her face. Her emotions were a mix of disappointment, vulnerability, and a sense of betrayal.

"Tumne puri baat nahi batayi thi Mahjabeen, warna Allah kasam... Mahjabeen, tumhe kaha chhua hai?" Murtasim's voice turned firm, a hint of anger and protectiveness seeping through.

"Huh?" Mahjabeen's voice quivered, her expression displaying confusion.

"Tumhe kaha haath lagaya?" Murtasim's tone was urgent, demanding an answer.

"Kandhe pe, haath pe, aur baazuon pe," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. Her words conveyed the violation she had experienced, mingled with a deep sense of vulnerability and pain.

As Mahjabeen revealed the places where Hasan had touched her, a surge of anger shot through Murtasim like a lightning bolt. His features contorted with a mix of fury and protectiveness, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. The vivid image of someone crossing the boundaries and causing harm to the woman he cherished ignited an inferno within him.

Murtasim's eyes blazed with anger, his brows furrowing and his jaw tightening as he struggled to contain his wrath. His protective instincts surged, and he took a step closer to Mahjabeen, his presence exuding a palpable aura of strength.

The mere thought of Hasan daring to lay his hands on Mahjabeen in such a manner unleashed a tempest of emotions within Murtasim. His anger intermingled with a profound sense of betrayal, intensifying his resolve to confront and seek justice for the pain inflicted upon her.

A fierce determination enveloped Murtasim as he contemplated the next course of action. His thoughts raced, contemplating how to ensure the safety and well-being of the woman he loved. Every fiber of his being was focused on protecting Mahjabeen and dismantling the threat that loomed over her.

Though anger pulsed through him, Murtasim's anger was tempered by his concern for Mahjabeen. He held her trembling hand gently, offering both support and solace in that tumultuous moment, "Haveli chalte hai abhi", he said and took Mahjabeen's hand in his, ready to confront Hasan.

At the Khan mansion, Maryam took on the challenging task of convincing Maa Begum that Mahjabeen was innocent. That's when the two of them arrived home swiftly, urgency evident in their steps, and Maa Begum immediately sensed the seething anger radiating from Murtasim's face.

"Tum kaha jaarhey?" Maa Begum asked, her voice tinged with concern as she observed the fiery intensity in her son's eyes. Murtasim remained silent, his jaw clenched tightly, as he grabbed the nearby rifle with a determined grip.

"Aap sab apne kamre me jaye" (Everyone, go to your rooms), he commanded, his voice sharp and authoritative.

Confusion etched Maa Begum's face as she searched for answers. "Nahi Jayenge, tum kya karhey... Ye goli Murtasim, kya hua hai?" she inquired, worry creeping into her voice, fearing that something terrible might have occurred in the village involving their rival, Malik's family.

"HASAN!" Murtasim roared, his voice laced with pure, unadulterated hatred and anger.

Startled, Maa Begum corrected him, her tone filled with maternal instinct. "Tum aise kaise bula rahey ho? Izzat se bulao... Hasan."

Hasan emerged from his room, pretending innocence, trying to downplay the intensity of the situation. "Haan, Maa Begum," he replied, his voice a facade of innocence.

Unable to contain his rage, Murtasim lunged forward and seized Hasan by the collar, his grip tight and unwavering. "Meri biwi ko haath laganey ki jurrat kaise ki?" he growled, his voice laced with a deep, simmering fury.

Amidst the chaos, Mahjabeen stood beside Murtasim, her eyes filled with a mix of fear and determination. Maryam, sensing the escalating tension, intervened, attempting to steer her distraught mother away from the mounting conflict, recognizing the source of her brother's anger.

"Maa, hum kamre me chalte hai... Mahjabeen, chalo," Maryam pleaded, her voice laced with urgency, hoping to shield her mother from the storm brewing in their midst.

"Mahjabeen tum bhi jao", Murtasim said as he watched his sister and mother heading towards the room.

Defying her husband's request, Mahjabeen shook her head, her eyes brimming with apprehension. Fearful of what Hasan might do to Murtasim if left alone, she clung to Murtasim's hand, her resolve fortified by memories of the day he had been shot.

"Nahi inhone aapko kuch kardiya toh..." she trailed off, her voice choked with tears, voicing her deepest fears and the protective instinct that welled within her.

Murtasim, desperate to reassure his wife and exhibit his unwavering strength, laughed through his tears "Ye mujhe haath nahi laga sakta... Itna kamzor nahi hu mai" (He cannot lay a hand on me... I am not that weak).

The words stung Mahjabeen, misunderstood as an insult to her own strength. Anger welled up in her eyes as she retorted, her voice filled with wounded pride, "Haan toh mai bhi nahi hu. Maine bhi laat maari thi aur thappad" (Yes, and neither am I weak. I have also fought back, kicked and slapped).

Amidst the growing tension and bewildering exchanges, Maa Begum found herself caught in the whirlwind of confusion, unable to comprehend the unfolding scene. Desperate for answers, she pleaded, "Mahjabeen, ye sab kya chal raha hai? Hasan kya bol rahe dono?" (Mahjabeen, what is happening? What are they saying Hasan?).

"Maa Begum, woh, lagta hai inko koi galatfehmi hui hai. Mahjabeen, maine kab haath lagaya tumhe?" Hasan denied, feigning innocence, attempting to gaslight Mahjabeen, but his tactics failed to sway her.

"Pichle hafte, aur usse pehle, mere kandhe pe haath rakh kar bole nahi they ke tumhari yaad aarahi thi," Mahjabeen lashed out angrily, her voice mimicking his tone as she stood firmly behind Murtasim.

Hasan continued to deny any wrongdoing, his voice tinged with deception. "Jhoot! Mujhpar ilzaam laga rahi hai ye... Maa Begum, maine kaha tha na aapko? Ye yahaan se jaana chahti hai isliye ye saari baatein kar rahi, taki dono bhai alag ho" (Lies! She is falsely accusing me... Maa Begum, didn't I tell you? She wants to leave from here, so she's saying all these things to create a rift between the brothers).

The room was filled with tension as Mahjabeen's tear-stained face reflected her inner turmoil. She desperately tried to make Maa Begum understand, her voice trembling with emotion, "Maa Begum, aisa kuch nahi hai. Mera yakeen kar lein inhone..." Her words trailed off as her gaze turned towards Maryam, pleading with her eyes for support. "Aap Maryam se puchey, maine sab bataya tha na tumhe?" she implored, seeking validation for her painful truth.

Sensing the urgency and the weight of the moment, Maryam stepped forward, her voice carrying an unwavering strength. With determination etched on her face, she stood by Mahjabeen's side and affirmed, "Ji, Maa Begum, ye sach bol rahi hai," her words resonating with conviction, solidifying their united front against Hasan.

Amidst the charged atmosphere, Murtasim's anguish morphed into a resolute determination. His voice, laden with both fury and a cold determination, cut through the heavy air, "Goli se nahi maarunga, woh aasan maut hogi" (I won't shoot him; that will be an easier death). Sliding off his belt, he planned his retaliatory strikes, intending to strike Hasan precisely where he had violated Mahjabeen. The room fell silent, anticipation hanging thick, as he struck him with calculated force-first on his elbow, eliciting screams of pain, then on his back, imagining him creeping on his wife in the kitchen and his anger blazed, and finally stepping on Hasan's hand, resulting in a sickening crack. Hasan's cries turned into desperate pleas, his arrogance replaced by raw fear.

Desperate for justice and closure, Hasan's cowardice pushed him to the brink. "Mujhe police ke hawale kardo" (Hand me over to the police), he pleaded, his shirt torn from the struggle, as the realization of his impending downfall sank in.

In that intense moment, Maryam, quick-witted and supportive, rushed to Mahjabeen's aid. She fetched a stool and handed it to Mahjabeen, a silent reminder of their conversation, where Mahjabeen had vowed to defend herself if ever harassed by Hasan. Maryam's encouraging smile lent her strength as Mahjabeen gripped the stool, her knuckles turning white. But before she could strike, Hasan's body gave way, his feigned unconsciousness fading as he fainted, spared from the blow that seemed almost certain.

Just as the weight of the situation threatened to consume them, Murtasim's phone pierced the heavy silence, its ringtone a stark contrast to the charged atmosphere. The police had called, delivering the long-awaited results of the investigation. The truth emerged, as the fingerprints found on Shahzad Alam's body were a perfect match for Hasan's.

Hasan, was woken up, cornered by all of them and defeated, finally confessed, his voice laced with remorse, "Mai chahta tha ki woh apni zameen mere naam karde, magar woh Khan ka sachcha tha, isliye tikka raha. Upar se mujhe dhamkaya ki woh in cheezon ke baare mein tumhe aagah kar dega, isliye maine..." (I wanted him to transfer his land to my name, but he was an honest man, so he resisted. On top of that, he threatened to inform you about all this, so I...).

Overwhelmed by a surge of emotions, Murtasim's grip on the belt loosened, and tears streamed down his face, intermingling with his cries for the farmer whose life had been cut short. Mahjabeen stood by his side, steadfast, clutching his hand firmly, offering him unwavering support as they awaited the arrival of the police to apprehend Hasan, marking the beginning of their journey towards justice and healing.

***

Are you guys interested in Maryam's love story with Naurez Khan? Because that's coming up next. I think we got many arcs left to expand on (as many of you shared) so I think this book won't end so soon.

Do you find Murtasim's character a bit too soft here?