A/N: It's hereeeeeeeeee! What y'all have been waiting for, over 10K word of confessions and moving forward, hehehehehe. See you on the other side!

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Meerab's heart was a battleground of emotions as she stepped out of Zaki's car, an apology hanging on her lips for the turmoil she'd swept him into. His soft "good luck" was a balm, but it did little to steady her nerves. She closed the door with a soft click, her gaze lifting to meet Murtasim's black Mercedes – which had come to a halt right behind them, as expected.

Her feet carried her towards his vehicle, each step a tumultuous echo of the dread and longing warring within her. She prayed that he didn't break her heart, that he didn't say that he had fought himself and come to the conclusion that he loved her in spite of all the things he hated about her. She wanted him to tell her that she had it all wrong, that there was a perfectly good reason for why he had pushed her away, that he loved her for who she was...that she wasn't a mistake.

But would he?

The metallic click of the passenger door handle was almost too loud in the stillness, and as she settled into the seat, the scent of Murtasim—bergamot and vanilla with a hint of mint—wrapped around her, evoking memories she grappled to keep at bay. It was a scent that offered an odd comfort in that moment amidst the uncertainty that swirled around them like a silent storm.

"Meerab, I – " Murtsaim's voice, heavy with emotion, broke the silence, but she cut him off before he could continue.

"Take us somewhere we can talk, the side of the road doesn't work," she snapped. The edge in her voice belied the vulnerability she felt, swirling amidst the confusion that clouded her thoughts.

Murtasim sighed, a sound that seemed to carry the weight of the world, and the car pulled away, gliding through Karachi's streets. The city was a different world at this hour, its usual bustle subdued under the cloak of night. Streetlights cast a hazy glow, illuminating their path in intermittent flashes, while the distant hum of the city provided a muted backdrop to the silence between them.

Her mind raced, trying to think of a place where they could talk undisturbed. The usual spots – a mall, a coffee shop – were too public, too prone to interruptions, and not right for what she anticipated being a very emotional conversation. The side of the road wasn't an option, with the ever-present risk of suspecting police officers knocking on car windows, she could only imagine the drama. She could only think of her house, but she knew that would mean her mother, and if he was able to, her father would come out to investigate.

Meerab decided to leave the decision to Murtasim, her eyes flickering around the meticulously maintained interior of his car, the absence of any clutter, emblematic of Murtasim's orderly nature. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she found herself stealing glances at him. It was as though her mind, starved of his presence, became ravenous at the sight of him, drinking in every detail with an insatiable thirst, utterly incapable of tearing her eyes away again.

He was a portrait of solemn beauty in his white kurta and shawl. She noticed that he had trimmed his beard since she last saw him, his hair was shorter too, yet strands still fell slightly over his forehead. But he looked far from unkempt as he had at the hospital. His mouth was taut with unspoken words. He was a study in restraint, and yet, there was an underlying tension, a barely concealed turmoil that made him seem more accessible, more real than he had in months.

Her confusion deepened, sitting so close to him again, in the same car that had been the starting point of their strange journey to the village, where she had fallen irrevocably in love with the man beside her. Her gaze drifted to the hood of the car, now devoid of any signs of the accident they had been in, driving smoothly and humming quietly as it always did. That night, when they had crashed into a tree, she had been just as confused by his behavior – his unexpected kindness, the way her heart fluttered at his proximity, the warmth of his hand against hers as they were cuffed together.

Closing her eyes, she could almost transport herself back to that moment, feeling the same rush of emotions as before.

She could almost hear the gentle patter of rain against the car roof. The memory brought a sense of comfort, a reminder of a time when things between them were simpler, yet charged with an unspoken promise.

She could almost feel the ghostly warmth of his handcuffed hand against hers, an echo of a touch that had sent ripples of awareness through her. The heat of his skin, how close he had been that day, the firmness of his grip, all seemed to reach across time, reminding her of the connection they had shared, one that had been both startling and deeply reassuring.

She could almost feel his concern for her, a tangible presence in the car with them. His voice, laced with worry as he checked on her, his eyes scanning her face for any sign of discomfort, had made her feel cherished in a way she hadn't felt in a long time.

As she sat there, lost in the nostalgia of those past memories, a part of her ached to return to that time, to the safety and promise of those early days, where she had felt like everything would be okay if he was by her side. Would he ever make her feel like that again? Like she could trust him with her heart after everything?

Meerab let out a loud sigh, looking out the window again. The dargah in the distance caught her eye, its minarets reaching towards the sky, a symbol of peace and hope amidst the chaos of her thoughts. The idea of visiting it, of finding a moment of respite within its sacred walls, appealed to her.

Meerab's voice was a soft whisper, barely breaking the silence that had enveloped the car. "I want to pray," she said quietly, her words filled with a need for solace. "Yahan...gaadi roko," she instructed, pointing to the dargah that loomed ahead.

Murtasim nodded in silent understanding, navigating the car through the smaller side roads. Within minutes, the car came to a gentle stop, the engine's hum fading into the quiet of the night. Murtasim wrapped his shawl around himself, a protective layer against the chill of the night air, before stepping out to open the door for her. Meerab, her dupatta draped over her head in, stepped out as he opened her door but didn't linger. She walked ahead, her pace steady and purposeful.

The dargah at that hour was mostly deserted, its usual throngs of devotees absent, leaving behind an atmosphere of profound peace. Ascending the stairs to the upper level, Meerab found herself enveloped in the serene embrace of the sacred space. The night sky overhead was punctuated by the shimmering dance of stars and the delicate curve of a crescent moon. The dargah itself was a stunning silhouette against this celestial backdrop, its domes adorned with intricate blue and white tiles that shimmered in the moonlight, casting a radiant glow around them. The minarets stretched towards the sky, their slender forms crowned with a soft light that seemed to guide the soul upwards, towards something greater.

Barefoot, Meerab could feel the cool tiles beneath her feet, each step seemingly easing the turmoil within her. The air was perfumed with the subtle scent of incense, its smoky tendrils mingling with the crispness of the night, creating an aura that was almost ethereal.

Behind her, Murtasim's presence was a quiet shadow, his footsteps a faint echo of her own. As she settled down to pray, her heart sought clarity and courage in the face of the tumultuous emotions she harbored. Despite her focus on her prayers, she was acutely aware of Murtasim's gaze upon her. It was a strange comfort, a silent acknowledgment of the bond they shared, one that, despite everything, seemed to remain.

As she bowed in prayer, her forehead touching the cool ground, Meerab felt a sense of release. Each word of her prayer was a plea, a request for guidance, for the strength to navigate the complexities of her heart, and the wisdom to choose the right path... to help her trust again if Murtasim's words were true or to let him go if his presence in her life wasn't written.

Meerab rose from her prayer, a sense of tranquility settled within her, lightening the load on her heart, clarifying the tumult in her mind. She felt fortified with a newfound resolve, she was ready to listen, with an open, to really hear Murtasim's words, and to discern their sincerity. To perhaps let him in once more. She was braced for the answers she had sought for so long.

As she moved back outside, her eyes found him leaning against the marble railing that bordered the rooftop of the dargah. Murtasim stood there, like a lighthouse, steadfast and unyielding, his silhouette etched against the backdrop of the starlit sky.

To Meerab, Murtasim had once been a grounding force, as constant as the stars scattered across the sky above them. She found herself wondering if that constancy could ever return, if the trust that once came so easily could be rebuilt. Her heart yearned for the reassurance of that stability, for the sense of belonging that his presence had once brought.

Drawing near, she took in the sight of him - a visage of composure bathed in the soft luminescence of the sanctuary's light. The shadows of earlier distress had receded, leaving behind a reflective serenity that seemed to soften the lines of worry etched on his face. And yet, there was a vulnerability there, a subtle chink in his armor that revealed the depth of his humanity, making him all the more real, all the more relatable to her own vulnerability. In this moment, Murtasim embodied both the unshakeable foundation she had always admired and the exposed soul that had endeared him to her heart.

Stepping beside him, Meerab's shoulder brushed lightly against his. They stood together, side by side, looking out into the vast expanse of the sky above. The stars twinkled like distant lanterns, their gentle light offering guidance to the wayward and the weary.

Meerab too leaned against the cool marble railing, drawing comfort from its solid presence. She exhaled, the long-held breath carrying the weight of countless unspoken questions. The simplest yet most profound of them slipped past her lips, a single word heavy with months of confusion and pain. "Why?" It was the echo of her heart's plea for clarity, to understand the reason his actions, his words, and what she saw in his eyes never aligned.

Murtasim's sigh was a soft prelude to his struggle for words. "I don't know where to start," he whispered, almost to himself. The vulnerability in his voice drew her gaze, locking her into the moment, looking up at him, her heartbeat picking up as it always did when he was so close to her.

"The beginning, the truth?" she suggested, her voice a gentle nudge.

His eyes flickered between hers. "I love you," he said, his declaration cutting through the tension between them. But for Meerab, those words, once craved, now fell flat, hollowed out by the past's shadows.

Her heart might have skipped a beat, but she could only sigh in response. "Those words don't mean anything to me alone, Murtasim, not after everything that has happened."

"I know," he replied, and there was something in his voice, a quiet resolve mixed with raw honesty, that made her listen. "But you have to know that I didn't push you away because I thought you were all wrong for me. I thought I was wrong for you, that my world was wrong for you, that it would steal from you all the things that make you who you are." His confession was a soft yet profound revelation, the words hanging heavy in the air.

Meerab's confusion was a tangible thing, but she stayed silent, letting him speak.

"I – I know my actions have been confusing, but I never..." he sighed, and then continued, "you said that I hated everything about you, and that's not true, not even a little bit. I don't hate anything about you. How could I?" His words unfolded slowly, each sentence brimming with the sincerity she could see reflected in his eyes as he turned towards her fully, eyes that held a gentle earnestness, the depth of his emotions laid bare.

Oh.

"If I did, I wouldn't have fallen for you, Meerab. I know you'll still want to work, to practice law, to change the system." He said, repeating the words she had thrown at him earlier. "And I admire that about you, because that's what makes you, you. I love those things, Meerab. I love you. How could I not? You're...perfect." His voice carried a note of disbelief, tinged with a hint of pain—as if the very idea that she could believe he hated those parts of her was inconceivable to him.

"I am not." She found herself shaking her head, his words not making sense, she wasn't perfect, she was far from it, they both knew it.

"You see perfection as flawlessness, Meerab," he said, the pain in his voice betraying the weight of her self-doubt. "But to me, your perfection lies in the fire that burns within you, in your endless potential."

He stepped closer, his presence enveloping her, his voice softening, "tum me itni kaabliyat hai ki tum yeh duniya jeet sakti ho," he insisted gently, his voice a tender caress. "Tum jo chahe kar sakti ho. Jaise chahe ban sakti ho – ek behtreen waqeel, aur usse sai bi achi Khaani, jo logon ke dil mein jhaankar unki awaaz ban sakti hai, jo kisi ki madad karne sai kabhi nahi darti, jo hamesha sach ke saath khadi hoti hai. Tum ek achi humsafar ban sakti ho, ek behtreen humsafar."

Meerab felt her eyes filling with tears as he spoke, her head shaking.

His voice softened even more, his eyes flickering over her face, "Meerab, I - Tum bahut khoobsurat ho, bahut pyaari ho. Meerab ho. Himmatwali. Honslewali. Kisi se naa darne wali. Meri Meerab."

As Murtasim spoke, his expression was one of open-hearted sincerity, the image of a man laid bare by his own admissions. His eyes, filled with a love that seemed to reach out and envelop her, spoke of a depth of feeling that transcended mere words. The tears that filled her eyes were a response to a genuineness she felt in her core, to words she would never have thought to apply to herself, but that painted a picture of the woman she aspired to be.

In the silence that followed, with the cool night air wrapping around them, Meerab felt the walls around her heart tremble, the foundation of her defenses beginning to crack. Murtasim's words, his gaze, the open and pleading look on his face—it all made her heart ache with a yearning she thought she had buried.

Meerab's mind was a tumultuous sea of confusion, waves of unanswered questions crashing against the shore of her consciousness. The lingering why echoed like a haunting refrain. If Murtasim truly loved her, cherished all the aspects of her personality she believed he wanted to change, if he meant all the words he was saying, then why had he distanced himself so painfully?

Her gaze, intense and probing, must have conveyed the depth of her turmoil, for his eyes flickered across her face, seemingly searching for signs of belief, of understanding in her expression. She yearned to believe him, to let go of the fear and embrace the love he professed, but the shadow of past hurts loomed large, a barrier she wasn't sure she could overcome.

As Murtasim spoke, each word was heavy with the kind of raw emotion Meerab had rarely seen him display. "I love you as you are. But I wasn't sure if I could protect those parts of you," his voice broke, and he took a moment to regain his composure. "The parts everyone around us hated, the parts you were starting to let go of so they would accept you. And I hated that."

Meerab's vision blurred as tears formed, spilling over as she remembered the subtle ways she had started to shrink herself, to become what they expected, to quiet the storm within her to become more palatable to the man who demanded obedience but not once offered fatherly warmth, to the woman who judged her worth by her silence rather than her words, to those who expected her to just accept everything that was thrown her way.

He had seen it too.

Murtasim's own facade of stoicism was shattering before her, revealing the depth of his feelings, his tears a silent testament to the struggle he'd been harboring within. "I saw how my mother treated you, how much you detested the Haveli," he continued, the tears streaming down his face unabashedly. "How it made you so depressed... and how happy you were away from all of that."

I was happy with you. She wanted to yell, she wished she could tell him that her happiness was entwined with his presence, where she felt seen, understood, even cherished.

Meerab's heart ached as she saw the man she had loved and resented, pouring his heart out to her. She realized then that he had been watching her, really seeing her, in ways she hadn't even seen herself. She recognized now that his attentiveness had been unwavering, his understanding of her had run deeper than she'd ever given him credit for.

"I knew that it wasn't the place for you. Not because you aren't enough, or right, or whatever you think I thought. But because it would steal the very parts of you that made you happy, Meerab. You're not meant to be caged, you're meant to soar." He spoke like he had run those thoughts through his head over and over again, and he wasn't wrong, because the Khan Haveli did feel like a grand and somber cage, but Murtasim had always been the sun that casted away the gloom with his presence.

"And the – ," his voice broke, "-the last thing I wanted was for you to be unhappy. And I struggled with how to balance your happiness with my world, you know I have responsibilities I can't walk away from...but I didn't want to trap you in a life you resented. Because the Meerab who told me she didn't want to live scared me, and I couldn't – I refuse to imagine a world without you...even if that world doesn't include me."

"Why didn't you tell me?" she wanted to scream, but the words were lodged in her throat, trapped by the intensity of the moment. How could he have thought of all of that and not given her a clue?

There was an undeniable relief in his words, a soothing balm to the wounds of doubt and confusion she had nursed for so long. Yet, alongside this relief, there was a tinge of frustration, a poignant sadness that gripped her heart. Frustration, because his well-intentioned silence had left her adrift in a sea of uncertainty and rejection. And sadness, for the weight of his internal struggle was now laid bare before her, revealing the extent of his sacrifices, even to the point of contemplating a life devoid of their togetherness.

Despite these swirling emotions, there was an underlying current of apprehension. His willingness to exclude himself from her world for her happiness spoke of a selflessness that was both endearing and alarming. It left her with a lingering uncertainty about the stability and certainty of their future together.

But in that moment, as she observed the tears tracing paths down his face, the earnestness in his expression, she knew in her heart that Murtasim was incapable of deceit, especially not here, not in this sacred place. The realization gently cracked the protective walls she had built around her heart, allowing a glimmer of hope and love to seep through once again.

Murtasim took a deep breath, as if needing to fill the silence in an absence of a reaction from her, his chest rising and falling with the weight of his next confession. "So yes, I tried to convince myself to not love you, thinking it would make our lives easier. I saw our future, thought it would be hard, especially for you, even if I tried my best to make it easy - I knew my mother would stand against us, I knew people would wear you down...and I didn't want to burden you with that, not after everything you were already going through." He laughed, a sad, hollow sound that echoed the heartache in his eyes. "But I couldn't stop myself from loving you, you're so easy to love Meerab."

It's hard to not love you, Meerab.

A sob left her mouth at the words he said and the words she remembered. She had thought she was just unlovable, that he couldn't fathom or digest that he liked someone like her. She thought he hated those things...but he was trying to save her. He had been that concerned about what she had told him once? About wanting to not live sometimes?

He stepped closer, his voice surer as he spoke. "I've loved you too, from that summer, when we got into the accident, that summer was when I realized I wanted nothing more than to make you happy, to see you smile. The following summer, when I tried to ignore you, it was me trying to shield you from what I thought was the inevitable heartbreak of being with me. I know now how wrong I was...to not talk to you, to not share my fears..." He took in a deep shuddering breath, tears falling from his eyes.

She knew he couldn't be lying about that, because he had been the only one that noticed her sadness, who found a reason for her to leave the Khan Haveli, who had done every little thing he could to put a smile on her face, who had brought her a pet goat much to the surprise of everyone around him.

"I...you know how I was raised...always to put my feelings and my desires behind my duty, to make decisions for everyone...it's hard for me to not default to that...but I promise I'll learn to be better, for you...if you'll have me." The hope in his voice was palpable, a raw and tentative promise that resonated with her.

Meerab understood him, perhaps too well. She understood the burdens he shouldered, the responsibilities thrust upon him at a young age, something she hadn't understood completely until she had spent time in the village with him and seen how hard he worked. So, his decision, though misguided, was something she could grasp. But what truly moved her wasn't just the admission of his mistakes—it was the promise of change. The idea that he would strive to change, for her, that he acknowledged her worth in his life—it was overwhelming.

She remained silent, the rush of emotions too complex to voice, something still holding her back.

Murtasim exhaled heavily, a sound that seemed to carry the weight of all he'd been holding back. "This is all coming out wrong," he confessed, and paused, perhaps gathering the shards of his courage. "What I mean to say is...that...I - I love you, Meerab. I love you for who you are. How could I not?" He said, his eyes brimming with sincerity. "You're...my sun, you bring warmth and light into the corners of my heart that I didn't even know were cold and dark."

His voice grew stronger. "My love for you... it's because of who you are. You challenge me, you push me, and you've opened my eyes to new ways of seeing the world. Your strength, your passion, your sense of justice... these aren't just traits I've learned to tolerate. They are what I love about you. And I hate that I made you think it wasn't that."

Meerab had always thought those were the aspects of herself he wished to change, the parts he couldn't stand. Yet here he was, professing his love for the very things she thought he resented, again and again, pulling on the foundation of her hurt and sending her walls crumbling without the support.

"I love you for your defiance, for your courage to stand against what you don't believe in, even if that includes standing against me." Murtasim looked at her with a tenderness that made her heart ache. "I love you for your compassion, your empathy, and how fiercely you love and protect those you care about."

Tears, unbidden, began to spill over Meerab's cheeks as she listened.

He continued, each word deliberate and full of emotion, "I love you because you're brave, courageous, and stubborn. I love that you defend your beliefs, your thoughts, your love, without a second thought. And I hate it when you don't do that, when the world steals that part of you, because the Meerab I love is the one who stands in front of me, her eyes blazing, telling me I'm wrong and she's right."

He reached out to her then, his fingers hesitating for just a moment, but then moving gently against her skin as they wiped away her tears, a small smile on his face. Meerab let him, her defenses crumbling under the weight of his words, his touch, his presence. His voice was a quiet but fierce declaration of his love, "I love that Meerab, I could never hate her or tolerate her. That Meerab, she teaches me so much, and she makes me want to be a better person, for her."

As Murtasim's confession unfurled, the air seemed to carry each word directly into Meerab's heart. "I don't want you to change," he said, his voice resonating with earnestness. "The qualities that make you who you are—the essence of your resilience—are the very reasons I love you. You've captivated me, Meerab, with everything you represent and all that you've inspired me to become." He paused, his gaze holding hers, "I want you by my side, always, I want to change everything you want to change, I want to fight with you about little things...and inevitably give in because I want nothing more than for you to be happy, and with me...but I really thought I couldn't do that."

Meerab's skepticism waned under the weight of his words. Murtasim was not a man given to grand declarations, he never said more than what was necessary, he never explained himself, at least not like this, repeating the same words over and over again until she believed him. The intensity of his stare, the passion in his voice—these were not the tools of deception but the harbingers of a heartfelt truth.

Yet, confusion laced her relief, the same question running through her mind. If his love was as profound as his words suggested, why then the distance, the pain? Why the rejection, the harsh words that haunted her? Tears welled in her eyes as the question tumbled out, her voice a whisper of raw emotion. "Then why..." She couldn't finish, her mind a tumult of memories—his retreat, the impending marriage to another, the kiss shrouded in regret.

He sighed, the sound heavy with a shared sorrow. "Want to sit?" he offered gently.

Nodding, she joined him on the cool marble, sitting side by side, they leaned back against the railing, the stone's chill a stark contrast to the warmth building between them.

Murtasim's words transported Meerab back to a tumultuous period she had almost forgotten. "Remember Salim? Shabana's husband?" Murtasim's question pulled Meerab back to the memory of the kind woman who had suffered at the hands of an abusive spouse, escaping with her children.

Meerab nodded, her mind conjuring the image of Shabana's face.

Murtasim's next words were like a jolt, snapping Meerab back to the present. "Salim joined hands with the Maliks," he revealed, "He broke into our safe, stole all the land papers, and handed them over to the Maliks." His voice was steady, but the strain of those memories was evident in his clenched jaw.

Meerab's eyes widened in shock, her mind racing. "Was there an official record?" she blurted out, her legal mind kicking in. She knew all too well how complex property disputes could get, especially when documentation was murky and the law easily manipulated with power as it was where they lived. Her father had rejected taking on plenty of cases like that, knowing the legal battles stretched out over years in the absence of accurate government records, especially for land that had been in families for generations and was rarely registered properly.

Murtasim shook his head, his expression grim. "And the panchayat, the sarpanch, and villagers were divided..." he trailed off, his gaze distant.

"Because of what I did?" Meerab's voice was barely a whisper, the weight of her actions hitting her afresh, she remembered how he had sounded more and more stressed after she had left the village that summer, the phone calls had gotten shorter and shorter over the weeks, until she had been forbidden to step into the village without any reason.

"No, because of the change they needed," Murtasim corrected gently. But Meerab understood; the change she had started had rippled out, affecting more than she had realized.

She sighed, a complex mix of guilt, anger, and resolve settling over her. Murtasim's next words painted a picture of a landscape fraught with corruption and deep-rooted connections. "The police in that area... they're in Malik's pocket. His cousin's father-in-law holds the highest rank there," he muttered, frustration evident in his tone.

"So, you...pushed me away for someone who had the right connection?" Meerab asked, her voice tinged with a newfound understanding, she had wondered why Murtasim had needed someone like Yusuf Ali. The pieces of the puzzle, which had once seemed scattered and elusive, were now falling into place, but the picture they formed was one she didn't like.

Her eyes, reflecting a storm of feelings, met his, searching for an answer to the tormenting question that had haunted her. "Was that so easy for you? To push me away despite loving me, as you claim to?" The hurt in Meerab's voice was unmistakable, a raw edge of vulnerability that she seldom allowed to surface.

Her words hung in the air, a poignant echo of her bruised heart. In her mind, doubts swirled like a whirlwind — if his love could be so easily subdued, so readily sacrificed at the altar of duty and circumstance, was it ever truly steadfast? She would have fought for him, so why didn't he?

Murtasim sighed, a heavy sound laden with the weight of unspoken struggles. "No, it was the hardest thing I've ever had to do." She wanted to believe him. "I tried everything, every contact I had, but no one would help. Then Maa and Chacha-Saab suggested Yusuf Ali, and Asma," he paused, his voice faltering for a moment, "it seemed the only way to avoid bloodshed, lengthy court battles, to keep everyone safe...and to keep me out of jail."

"Jail?" Meerab's voice was a sharp whisper, her eyes widening in alarm at the sudden turn. "Why would you go to jail?"

Murtasim averted his gaze, a storm of emotions playing across his face. "I might have shot Zubair Malik," he confessed, his voice barely above a murmur.

"Murtasim!" Meerab's hand flew to her mouth, her eyes reflecting a tumult of emotions – shock, fear, concern. "Why? Over the papers?"

He shook his head, his expression darkening. "It wasn't just about the papers. He said something... it angered me." His evasiveness hung in the air, unanswered questions swirling around them.

"What did he say?" She asked, wondering what had driven him to that point, she knew Murtasim struggled with his anger, but she knew it had to be something great to drive him to that point.

Murtasim shook his head, not answering her question.

"Is he... is he dead?" Meerab's voice was barely audible.

"In a coma," Murtasim replied, his tone somber.

Meerab's voice trembled with disbelief and shock. "So, you're out on bail?" The words barely left her lips, the reality of the situation sinking in, turning her world on its head.

Murtasim nodded, a deep sigh escaping him, his shoulders slumping under the weight of his unspoken burdens. The atmosphere around them thickened with the gravity of his admission, casting a shadow over their already strained conversation.

"Why didn't you tell me, Murtasim?" Meerab whispered, her voice a mix of hurt and frustration. She felt betrayed, not just by his actions but by her own inability to see the signs. He had been tense, unusually so, right before their communication had abruptly stopped. He had warned her not to come to the village, and now it all made a chilling kind of sense. There had been something significant, something dangerous at play, and she had been completely oblivious to it.

As she looked at him, his eyes downcast and filled with a quiet turmoil, she felt a surge of mixed emotions. There was anger at being kept in the dark, hurt at being pushed away, but there was also a dawning realization of the depth of his struggle, the magnitude of the burden he had been carrying alone.

"There's more, isn't there?" Meerab asked, her voice barely above a hushed tone.

He nodded, a silent acknowledgment of her words. "There's more," he admitted, his voice heavy. "Malik's cousins are exploiting the situation. They've seized all of Malik's land and are trying to seize ours too. They want me out of the picture so they can take over the whole village... they're savages, they don't hesitate to harm anyone that stands in their way. A fight breaks out almost on the daily, the hospital is filled with our injured men, it's chaos. Every time I manage to get them jailed, they're released because of their connections in the police."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Meerab's voice was a mix of realization and sadness, as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place in her mind – he needed to stay out of jail to protect his people, and to put the Malik cousins away, and that all required power, power that Yusuf Ali had.

Murtasim let out a deep, weary sigh. "I couldn't tell you, Meerab," he murmured, regret etching his features. "I wanted to protect you, keep you out of harm's way."

Meerab's response was immediate, her voice a blend of hurt and accusation. "That wasn't your decision to make, Murtasim! All this time, you did what you did, thinking you were protecting me? You had no right to decide for me! Why didn't you tell me?" Her anger was palpable, her words a torrent of pent-up frustration and pain. "I deserved to know, to understand. You had no right to decide for me!"

Murtasim's voice was heavy with unspoken pain as he confessed, "I thought if I admitted my feelings for you, you'd be too stubborn to leave me alone – if I go to jail, and they're trying their hardest and will succeed if there's no one else to stop them, you'll all be in danger, especially you because they know you're the best way to get to me..." He trailed off, his gaze distant, continuing before she could ask why that was, "And on top of that, if I am not around, my mother is going to drive you insane. She'll blame you for everything... you'd be all alone, miserable, and that's the last thing I want for you. I just – I wanted to you to be safe and happy."

She understood why he did it; she knew the weight of duty that had always anchored him. But understanding did not ease the frustration, the sense of betrayal at being left out, at being protected through lies and distance.

"You thought I'd be happy without you?" Meerab whispered, tears brimming in her eyes. It was a frenzy of emotions within her – relief that he loved her, but anger and frustration at his unilateral decisions. She knew he was partially right, but she hated it.

"You would have been miserable and in danger with me." His whispered reply was a feeble attempt at justification, but it only served to fuel her inner turmoil.

"It's all my fault, isn't it... if I hadn't helped Shabana run away then –" her voice cracked, the guilt gnawing at her.

Murtasim's reassurance was gentle yet firm, trying to absolve her of blame. "No, something else would have triggered these events. You were only trying to help." But his words were a small comfort against the tide of emotions she battled.

"Why didn't you tell me, you didn't think you should tell me all of this?" she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

"And what would you have done, Meerab?" he asked, looking at her intently.

"Helped you! You thought going through all of this alone was better?" Her voice broke, echoing the pain and frustration she felt.

"It would put you in danger... plus the village people would spew nonsense about you," he said, his eyes reflecting the seriousness of the situation.

"What kind of nonsense?" She asked, already suspecting the answer, she had heard the whispers, people wondering why she was so close to Murtasim.

"About the two of us, they...started after you left last summer, nothing good," he sighed, his face clouded with unspoken worries.

Meerab felt a surge of frustration. "You should have still told me, Murtasim. It wasn't your decision to make alone," she said, her voice laden with both hurt and understanding.

"I know... but you always think of the here and now, not the long-term consequences... I thought you'd be happier without me in the long run," Murtasim admitted, his gaze dropping to the ground.

"I begged you to tell me," she whispered, the pain evident in her voice.

He looked up, his eyes meeting hers, filled with a regret that seemed to seep into her very soul. "I know... and I wanted to tell you. But at the time, it just didn't make sense to me. I was lost, trying to protect you, protect us, in the only way I thought I could."

"So why are you telling me now?" she asked, confused. "You're still going to marry Asma, aren't you?"

He shook his head, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "I've been trying to find a way out... and I finally found one."

"Oh," Meerab said softly, her heart caught between hope and uncertainty.

Her heart, which had braced itself for more disappointment, now fluttered with a cautious hope. His gaze, heavy with remorse, stirred a mix of feelings within her — relief that he had tried fighting for them in some way, confusion over the sudden shift in his stance, and a lingering fear of what the future might hold.

Meerab found herself at a crossroads, torn between her longing to believe in the love that Murtasim professed and her instinct to protect her heart from further pain. His words had opened a door to a future she had almost resigned herself to never having, but stepping through it meant risking her heart once more.

Meerab, her voice barely above a whisper, asked the question that had haunted her. "And if you hadn't found a way out?" The uncertainty in her voice was palpable, each word heavy with the weight of a heart torn between hope and fear.

Murtasim's response was a silent, pained look, his eyes reflecting a turmoil of emotions. It was as if the very thought of not finding a way out was unbearable to him, a possibility too painful to articulate.

"You would have married her?" Meerab pressed on, needing to hear the words, her voice trembled, a delicate balance between seeking truth and fearing it.

He shrugged, a gesture that carried an ocean of resignation and helplessness. It was the physical embodiment of a man caught between duty and love, his entire being wracked with conflict.

"You would have let me believe my whole life that you didn't love me because something was wrong with me?" she whispered, her words a fragile thread of vulnerability. The hurt behind her question was unmistakable, reflecting the depth of her pain and the scars of her doubts.

"I never wanted you to feel like there was something wrong with you...I am sorry, Meerab, I really am," he uttered, his voice choked with emotion. The remorse etched on his face was evident, reflecting a sincere regret for the pain he had caused.

Her next words were barely audible, yet they carried the force of all her lingering pain. "You called me a mistake." The memory of that moment, still vivid and raw, hovered between them like a dark cloud.

"Not you, the kiss," he hurried to clarify, his voice laced with desperation. "I knew I shouldn't have kissed you with all that was happening, but I –" He paused, his sigh heavy with conflict. "-I am weak, and I hated being there knowing I had to marry someone else when my heart belonged to you."

Her question was pointed, a reflection of her bewilderment and hurt. "So, you decided to help shove me towards someone I didn't love either?"

He spoke softly, his words a confession of his innermost intentions. "No, I wanted you to find someone that loved you the way you deserved to be loved, someone to keep you safe and free from the dangers shadowing my life, a family that would cherish you and afford you the freedom you deserved rather than look at your ambitions with disdain like my mother," he whispered, each word underscored by the anguish of his decision.

"And would you have been happy if I married someone like that?" she asked, her voice a blend of curiosity and pain.

He exhaled deeply, a breath that seemed to carry the weight of his sorrow. "I would have been happy for you if you found happiness," he admitted, a statement that, while selfless, also hinted at the depth of his own sacrifice.

Meerab's frustration and pain overflowed, her voice rising sharply in the quiet night. "But would you be happy? Zaki is perfect, his family is perfect, I should marry him then? Since you approve? Since that's what you wanted?" The words were laced with a bitter irony that betrayed her inner turmoil.

Murtasim appeared at a loss, his usual composure slipping away. He seemed to struggle for words, his expression a mix of pain and confusion.

"That's what you wanted right? Because even though you're here now...what's changed, Murtasim? Our family is still the same, you say you've found a way out but who knows if it's going to work, your mother hates me...so I should just marry Zaki, right?" Her words were sharp.

The pain on Murtasim's face deepened, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "If that's what makes you happy," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

"Would you walk away if I said it did?" she pressed, needing to hear his answer.

He nodded, a gesture that seemed to take all his strength. His affirmation was a silent admission of his willingness to sacrifice his happiness for hers.

Anger and sadness surged within Meerab, and she whacked his arm hard. "You idiot," she sobbed, her tears now flowing freely.

"What do you want me to do?" Murtasim asked, his own voice cracking with emotion.

"I don't know," she cried, caught in a whirlwind of emotions. She was torn between being touched by his selfless love and frustrated that he wouldn't fight for them. "And what if your mother is against this? Then what?" she asked, her voice a whisper amidst sobs.

Murtasim's response was a soft murmur, filled with resignation. "It's not an if, she is against this... I thought she'd be happy for me if I told her I found a way out...but she's not. She wants it her way, even if it'll make me miserable."

"Then?" She asked, wondering what that meant.

His whisper, filled with a resolute defiance she had never heard before, resonated in the still air. "I've decided I don't care for her opinion in this matter. If you'll still have me...I want you. You won't have to deal with her or your father, we don't have to live in the Khan Haveli."

Meerab's heart pounded, her voice barely a whisper, "Then?" Confusion and surprise intermingled within her; she had never expected Murtasim to contemplate such a drastic change.

"I bought land on the outskirts of Karachi, it's close to the village as well...so it'd be close to the city if you...for work...and close to the village to manage things..." he continued, his voice steady but laden with emotion. "I think we - I - and if you want...if you want me...you - we can build a house there."

Meerab's heart throbbed in her chest, a tumultuous mix of emotions cascading through her. "You'd give the Khan Haveli up for me?" The words tumbled from her lips, laden with disbelief and a profound sense of awe. For Murtasim, a man so deeply entrenched in tradition and duty, the idea of leaving the Khan Haveli, his family's ancestral home, and distancing himself from his mother's influence was an act of seismic proportions.

As she grappled with the magnitude of his declaration, Meerab realized the weight of what he proposed. Murtasim, who had always embodied the role of a feudal lord and a dutiful son, was ready to step away from the Khan Haveli, something no one before him had dared to do. His willingness to uproot his existence, to go against the very fabric of his identity for her, spoke volumes of his love and dedication, sending all the walls around her heart crashing down.

Her thoughts raced, remembering her own internal struggles. She had resigned herself to the idea of trying to coexist with his mother in the Khan Haveli, to endure the unhappiness she would bring her for the sake of their love. Yet here he was, choosing her happiness over convention, over familial expectations. Murtasim had envisioned a middle ground, a place where they could create a life that honored both their worlds. This compromise, a home on the outskirts of Karachi where she would want to work, yet close to the village that was his to oversee, symbolized more than a physical space — it was a future crafted with both of their dreams and needs in mind.

His affirmative nod, accompanied by eyes brimming with sincerity and a love so palpable, rendered Meerab speechless. It was an act of love so profound that it tore down the last remnants of doubt that clung to her heart.

As the tears cascaded down her cheeks, transforming into heartfelt sobs that seemed to shake the very core of her being, Murtasim extended his arms, enveloping her in an embrace that melded gentleness and strength. His arms wrapped around her with a protective firmness, holding her as though he intended never to let go, as if in that moment, she was the most precious thing in his world.

Meerab leaned into him, melting into him, allowing herself to be held, to be comforted by the man she loved, her face finding solace in the curve of his neck. The familiar scent of him enveloped her, grounding her in the midst of her emotional storm. As she sobbed, Murtasim's arms tightened around her, his hands moving soothingly up and down her back, a silent reassurance that he was there, really there for her. His hold was unyielding, yet filled with a tenderness that spoke volumes of his care and concern. It was as if, with each tear she shed, he was trying to absorb her pain, to offer her strength in place of her grief.

In his embrace, the world outside their cocoon seemed to fade away. The uncertainty, the pain, the questions that had plagued her — all dissolved in the warmth of his hold. In that moment, wrapped in the safety of his arms, everything felt right. It was as though all the fragmented pieces of her world were falling into place, anchored securely by the man who held her, loved her, and had fought his own demons to be with her.

His voice, a tender whisper close to her ear, carried the words he had said to her many times that night, "I love you." Yet this time, the words resonated with a truth that reached deep into her heart.

And in that moment, amidst the tears and the starlit night, Meerab allowed herself to believe.

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The night air around the dargah held a sacred stillness as Murtasim and Meerab made their way out. A sea of emotions churned within Meerab as she walked by Murtasim's side.

Beside her, Murtasim moved with a familiar ease, his presence both comforting and disconcerting. It was as if nothing had changed between them, and yet, in the depths of her heart, Meerab knew everything was different. The months of pain and tears had carved new contours in their relationship, etching a story of love, loss, and rediscovery.

She felt adrift, uncertain of the direction in which their relationship was now heading. They had crossed a bridge, revealing truths and vulnerabilities, yet the path ahead was shrouded in a mist of uncertainty.

In her mind, Meerab had played out countless scenarios of how their relationship would evolve the summer she had intended to confess to him. She had imagined confessing her love, perhaps even running away from him in embarrassment after. She had imagined a courtship filled with sweet moments leading to an engagement, and ultimately, a marriage. But reality was far more complex, the bond they shared now felt both incredibly strong and achingly fragile, and it left her debating where they stood.

What now?

As they approached the area where they had left their shoes, Meerab's eyes searched the vicinity, only to find a large pile of shoes, displaced by a cleaner who was mopping the floor. She hesitated, about to step forward, but Murtasim was already moving towards the pile.

Meerab watched, a mixture of amazement and curiosity coloring her thoughts, as Murtasim deftly sifted through the heap. His hands paused, extracting a pair of flat gold sandals – her sandals. It struck her then, the depth of his attention, he had noticed what she had been wearing. Or perhaps it was because those sandals held a special significance; they were the ones he had once slipped onto her feet, the ones he had asked Areeb to buy, a replacement for the heels she had worn the night of their accident, the ones he had chucked into the darkness on the night they had walked together under the rain-soaked sky.

He deftly picked up his shoes as well, moving aside to give the cleaner space to work. Finding a nearby bench, Murtasim sat down, his gaze lifting to Meerab with a gentle arch of his eyebrow, a silent invitation for her to join him.

Meerab took a seat beside him, her heart fluttering with a mixture of apprehension and nostalgia. To her utter surprise, Murtasim dropped to his knees in front of her, mirroring an action he had taken once before on a sunny day after a storm. She watched, transfixed, as he carefully slid her sandals onto her feet. His touch was soft, his fingers caressing her skin with the same care and attention he had shown then. The memory of that day, filled with unspoken emotions, washed over her.

Tears welled up in Meerab's eyes, her emotions heightened by his tender gesture, something she never thought she would get to experience again.

Murtasim's movements were measured as he stepped into his shoes, a simple act rendered almost reverent by the gravity of the moment. Meerab, watching him, felt an acute awareness of his proximity as she stood up and he straightened to his full height, the scant distance between them was charged with a silent yearning.

His eyes locked onto hers, searching, flickering across her face with an intensity that made her heart race. Meerab's breath hitched, her pulse quickening under the intensity of his stare and the warmth emanating from his body. The urge to step into his arms again, to feel the warmth of his embrace, was overwhelming.

She was drawn to him as she always had been, like nothing had changed. Her gaze drifted to his lips, the memory of their last kiss igniting a flame that the sanctity of their surroundings could not dim. The desire to dissolve the space between them, to feel the press of his lips once more, to learn if it still felt the same, was an ache within her chest. Yet, the decorum of their environment and the fresh vulnerability between them held her in place.

As if sensing her internal struggle, Murtasim's hand lifted slightly, a hesitant gesture that hung in the air, an offer waiting for acceptance. Meerab felt the weight of the decision, knowing that to close the distance would be to acknowledge the shift in their dynamic, to admit to the depth of her own feelings that mirrored his.

Meerab stood still, a tumultuous mix of emotions visible in her eyes—longing, fear, and an unspoken question that needed no words. Her body inclined subtly towards him, the pull of her heart betraying her turmoil.

Murtasim's hand finally reached her, the warmth of his fingers against her cheek grounding her in the moment. His touch was soft, his fingers gently cradled her face, pushing a few stray strands of hair behind her ear with a tenderness that brought a fresh wave of tears to her eyes. It was a touch that reminded her of another, of a time that had perhaps set them on a course towards failure, during a summer that seemed to have both brought them together and torn them apart.

With a bravery that belied her inner chaos, Meerab held his gaze, allowing the walls around her heart to crumble piece by piece. The vulnerability they both shared in that gaze was a mirror to their souls—raw, unguarded, and real.

He stepped in closer. His lips pressed against her forehead gently, like a whisper, a gesture that conveyed a multitude of emotions. Then, as he pulled away, his voice was soft, a hint of hope in his tone. "Let's go?" he asked.

She nodded.

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The drive back to Meerab's house was swathed in a peculiar silence, a quiet that wasn't laden with the dense fog of tension that had accompanied them earlier but was instead filled with a sort of implicit understanding. Meerab sat beside Murtasim, her mind slowly turning over the revelations of the night, piecing together the jigsaw of his confessions.

She believed him. But it would take time for her to fully internalize his words, to deconstruct her own misconceptions and weave his truths into the fabric of her heart, but the seeds of belief had been firmly planted.

As Murtasim pulled the car into park outside her darkened house, the stillness of the night enveloped them. Her parents were likely asleep, unaware of her absence, consumed with concern for her father's recent return from the hospital. Murtasim killed the engine, and the quiet hum that had filled the background fell away, leaving an almost palpable stillness between them.

For a time, neither spoke. It was as if they were both unsure how to bridge the gap between the intimacy of their earlier conversation and the reality of returning to their everyday life. Finally, Murtasim let out a heavy sigh, breaking the silence with a voice that carried a hint of vulnerability. "Aren't you going to say something?" he asked, his tone almost hesitant.

Meerab turned to face him, her features softened by the moonlight that slipped through the windows. She hummed in response, a non-verbal nudge for him to continue.

"I – are – you said –" Murtasim's words stumbled out, each one colliding with the next as he struggled to articulate his thoughts. He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with the effort to find coherence. "You didn't give me an answer," he finally managed to say.

"To?" Meerab's voice was gentle, a quiet prompt in the darkness.

"Anything, really..." There was a vulnerability in Murtasim's admission, a nakedness that reached out to her.

"What do you want an answer to?" she prodded, her eyes searching his.

"Are you still... going to go through with the engagement?" The question hung in the air, charged with an intensity that caught Meerab off guard.

Her gaze held his, and in the pale light, she saw it—the raw fear that flickered in the depths of his eyes, a fear that clawed at the possibility of losing her. It struck her then, with a clarity that resonated within her, that she hadn't explicitly given him the reassurance he sought. In her mind, the answer had seemed self-evident, but now she realized the weight of unspoken words.

"Do you think I'd be sitting here in the car with you if I was?" she countered softly, her question rhetorical yet imbued with a softness that suggested a multitude of unspoken words.

Murtasim let out a heavy sigh, the furrows in his brow deepening as if her response had only partly eased his confusion. His eyes, still laden with uncertainty, searched her face for a sign, for something more concrete than the implications that hung unspoken between them.

Meerab's words tumbled out, each syllable laced with the blend of relief and residual anger, "I gave Zaki the ring back...and told him I couldn't go through with it... earlier when you walked in and punched him." Her voice rose slightly, tinged with irritation. "Which was so stupid of you, by the way. He's done nothing but be kind and supportive despite all he's had to go through because of us." She couldn't help but feel a surge of protective indignation on behalf of Zaki's undeserved reception.

Murtasim's sigh was heavy with remorse, but there was a hint of relief in his eyes. "I am sorry... I've been angry for so long, and when I saw him there, touching you, I just lost it," he admitted, his voice strained with the burden of his own jealousy and long-suppressed frustration. Meerab could see the memories flashing behind his eyes, the tension that had etched itself into his features at the mention of any suitor, and how it had become almost unbearable with Zaki's closeness to her.

"What were you going to do if I ended up marrying him?" Meerab found herself asking, her voice a hushed whisper betraying the fear of a reality she had narrowly escaped.

Murtasim's response was a mere exhalation of hopelessness. "I don't know..." His voice trailed off into the quiet of the car, into the space of their shared uncertainties.

The specter of the alternate path loomed large as Meerab muttered, almost to herself, "Marry Asma?" The recollection of her visit to the Ali Farmhouse, the confrontation, and the stolen kiss flooded back, sending a shiver through her. Unconsciously, her gaze was drawn to Murtasim's lips as he spoke, the site of that bittersweet transgression.

He sighed deeply, the sound stirring the air between them. "That was the plan... but part of me debated not going through with it. I thought maybe going to jail, after ensuring you and Maryam were safe, would be better than staying free and having to see you with him." His voice was low, a confession of his darkest contemplations during those months of torment.

Tears gathered in Meerab's eyes anew.

Meerab's vision blurred with fresh tears, the absurdity and depth of Murtasim's admissions striking her with the force of a physical blow. The thought of him wrestling with such grim choices, of him contemplating something so stupid made her want to scream. "You're an idiot," she breathed out, the words a sigh that held both exasperation and a tender undercurrent of concern.

Murtasim, his face etched with a resigned acknowledgment of his own folly, simply nodded. "I know," he agreed, his voice a whisper of defeat. He paused for a moment before adding, "I should go." The words hung in the air, a looming threat of separation that Meerab felt in her very bones.

Panic seized her at the thought, a visceral fear that clutched at her chest. She couldn't bear the thought of him leaving, not now, when her heart was so full of him, of them and the possibility of a future together. If he left, doubt would creep in, weaving its insidious tendrils through her mind, convincing her that his love was an illusion, a figment of her desperate hopes, another dream. She knew her mind would race, questioning everything, searching for the pieces of the puzzle he hadn't laid out for her yet.

Her gaze was fixed on the windshield ahead, her teeth catching her bottom lip in anxiety as she mustered the courage for a single, pivotal request. "Stay," the word was barely audible, a fragile whisper carrying the weight of her vulnerability.

For a moment, she feared he hadn't heard her, but then he exhaled a heavy sigh. "It's not right, your parents..." He began, but his voice faded as she turned to look at him, her eyes pleading.

"Right," she conceded quickly, the rational part of her mind acknowledging the social improprieties of him staying any longer. The scandal that would ensue if he was discovered in her room alone was unthinkable. The simplest act of her ringing the bell to enter her home alone would draw unwanted negative attention at this late hour, adding Murtasim into the mix would set in motion a series of events that could not be undone.

"Sorry I asked," she muttered, her disappointment a bitter pill to swallow.

But Murtasim studied her face for a moment, his own expression a canvas of conflict before he gave a small, decisive nod as if he saw right through her. "I'll go park further down the street," he murmured, a plan formulating before her eyes. "Open the doors to the balcony in your room."

Meerab's eyes widened in shock. "I am on the second floor," she reminded him, wondering how he planned to scale the height to her bedroom.

"I know, Meerab," he said, his voice carrying a hint of a smile as he unwrapped his shawl from his shoulders and placed it in her hands. "It's cold, go in and wait for me."

She clutched the shawl, feeling the warmth and the lingering scent of him within the fabric. It was a tangible connection, a lifeline that promised he'd return to her. She nodded, her heart thundering with a blend of anxiety and anticipation. As she stepped out of the car, the night air felt sharp against her skin, but the shawl she wrapped around her shoulders was a comforting embrace.

She turned towards her house, her steps reluctant as she moved away from the curb. She knew that in a few minutes, she'd be looking down from her terrace, searching the shadows for the figure of the man who had just upended her world, again.

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A/N: Sooooooo, what do we think? What was your favourite part? Can we forgive Murtasim now? Should Meerab just give in completely? Whatever shall happen next?