Okay so I was telling my cousin about this Fanfiction and she just asked me why I chose Saad and Murtasim instead of Baasim and Murtasim. And I.........why on earth did I not think about it?!

I don't care if you agree with me or not but Baasim Ashiq Hussain, son of Advocate Ashiq Hussain could and would make Murtasim Khan cry. He would absolutely demolish Murtasim's ego with one of his punch lines and no one can tell me otherwise. He would also straighten up the Khans in like two days. Oh and not to forget, if Murtasim had Bhaktu, then Baasim has Rocket🤣🤣

Anyway, this is one of the last chapters I have in my draft. So enjoy.

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In the dimly lit room, Maheer stared unblinking, at the sleeping form of her husband next to her. His face was bruised, some of them turning blue. She traced them one by one with her fingers, careful not to wake him.

It was the first time he was sleeping after coming home from that wretched jail and Maheer didn't want to ruin the much needed rest. Her hands moved carefully on their own accord as she ran them through his soft hair.

She brought the index finger down, tracing the bridge of his nose, moving onto his cheeks next. Maheer tried to commit the feel into her memory, the softness of his hair, the fullness of his cheeks, his rough beard- she took them all in.

A tear escaped her eyes. She quickly retreated her hand when she saw Saad's face scrunch in a grumbling frown. She stared quietly until he fell back into a peaceful slumber.

Something twisted inside her everytime she thought back to the desperation and fear that had engulfed her for the last three days. Maheer never wished to relive them again.

She had begged Areeb to withdraw the case. She had begged Areeb's mom fir the same. She had begged lawyers to take Saad's case.

But none had listened. None had come to her husband's rescue. None spared her a look as her husband rotted inside that tiny, smelly cell.

Until she had found the small black diary containing her brother-in- law's contact number. Murtasim Khan, with his wealth, influence and connections, was someone that could get her husband out of that hell hole.

She had hesitated at first thinking of Saad's wishes but at that time, the only thing she could think about was his safe return. Nothing else had mattered.

Saad hadn't outright complained but she knew he was hesitant about taking for Murtasim's help. Taking his brother's help would mean he will be in his debt.

He was even more reluctant about Maheer's involvement in the case. But she had persisted. Even after Saad's insistence, she had agreed to Murtasim's idea.

Maheer understood Saad's concern, if things go wrong, her reputation will be ruined. But it's not like her reputation was in a great place now either.

She just hoped Saad will not be affected ever again by her past mistakes. He had already been wounded way too many times because of her.

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"May I ask you a question?" Meerab's voice sounded weak to herself. It was hoarse even though she hadn't been crying.

"Yes." Murtasim didn't look back. He still had his back to her. They wre lying on her childhood bed, his back to her as she slowly traced unintelligible lines onto his back with her finger.

"Were you aware?"

"Of what?"

"Of my real parentage?"

The words came out of her after a lot of difficulties as her hands halted. She had wanted to ask this question to her husband for the longest time. But she was too terrified of his answer.

If his answer was positive then she would be betrayed by another person; again her faith will be made into a laughing stock; again her fragile trust on him will be shattered into pieces.

But if he said No, then that would be even more terrifying. Because then Meerab will be forced to acknowledge him as a victim of circumstances just like her; she will have to admit that her anger on this man was not justified.

And if she couldn't hold onto her anger, then what does she have left?

People already took everything else from her.

Once upon a time, Meerab had a dream, a father, a mother, friends. She had love , she had curiosity, she had smiles, she had tears.

Now she only had her anger. Its her last remaining defence, her last barrier of protection against his love. It was the only thing she had of the old Meerab.

"Do you want the truth?" Murtasim's voice was somber. "Or what you wish to hear?"

A sob escaped her mouth before she could clamp it shut. Her whole body shook at the impact.

She knew the answer. Of course, she did.

He wasn't aware.

Even though the Khandaan belonged to him, he wasn't aware of one the most open truths in it. Maa Begum's claims were wrong.

Meerab couldn't stop the tears anymore. She clamped her mouth tighter and tighter. Her fingers were almost numb at how much force she was using, she still couldn't stop the noise from escaping.

Murtasim's reaction was immediate. Like lightning, he turned his whole body and looked at her crying face. He used his far stronger hands to pull on her hands and held them to her side with one hand.

With his free hands, he wiped the tears from her face as she sobbed uncontrollably. Her crying only got worse and worse.

The last time Meerab had cried with so much hurt was the day her parents had rejected her; when her beloved father refused to fight for her as if she was one of his hopeless cases.

That day, her tears were of hurt and betrayal. But today, her cries were of relief and exhaustion. She hadn't realised how tired she was of holding all the pain inside; she anger was eating her away; the grudge was taking her towards her own destruction.

Murtasim's arms circled around her, holding her face onto his chest. The hard plains of his muscles cocooned Meerab into a protective shell. "Meerab, it will be fine. You will be fine."

No one had hugged her in such a long time, no one had asked her what she wanted, no one assured her everything will be fine.

She missed her father. She missed her mother. She missed talking to her friends. She missed laughing at stupid jokes, she missed crying at cheesy movies, she missed being angry at some stupid man cat calling girls.

She missed being happy.

Why was she denying herself happiness in order to hold onto her anger?

Why was she punishing herself instead of those who did wrong to her?

"I want to go and meet my friends. Then I want to take you to my favourite restaurant and eat my favourite food." She tried to pronounce her words clearly through her tears. It was quite challenging with her breathing being so hard.

"Okay." Murtasim tightened his embrace; he seemed to understand her just fine. "You can do whatever you wish to. I promise."

His embrace was like home. Meerab felt like she was home.

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Murtasim woke up without his wife in his embrace. He almost sprained his neck at how quickly he jumped out of the bed.

It doesn't get any less terrifying with time. Everytime Meerab disappears without telling him, he felt his world stop.

Had she left him?

Even after what had conspired between them the night before, when she finally shared a part of her grief towards him, could she have left?

Murtasim searched for her like a mad man, in the bathroom, in the closet. But she wasn't there.

His eyes fell on the folders he was working on the night before. They were neatly stacked on the desk. With shaky hands, Murtasim flipped through the top one, only to see it was properly organised; everything was where it was ought to be. All the pages had pink little sticky notes on them with bits of inform. In neat handwriting, someone had written what he was supposed to say during the negotiation.

Meerab.

His heart was beating loudly, mind frantically trying to think clearly though a sleepy haze. Everything felt disoriented to him; as if he was walking through a lucid nightmare.

"That's I used to act after having nightmares about my board exams." A wave of relief shot though him as his eyes finally found his wife, standing at the door with a towel in her hand.

He gave her questioning look, his sleep added mind was still unable to form proper sentences after the scary experience. "Went to get you a towel. This room only had one." She dangled the fluffy white material in front of her.

"Here." Throwing it casual towards him, she went towards the cupboard. Her hair was wet indicating she had already taken her shower. "Go and get ready. I'll take your clothes out."

He obeyed her commands like a child. She handed him one if his suits and went onto unpack the rest of the clothes. Murtasim watched her in a confused silence.

Why was she acting like nothing happened? Was she going to pretend like nothing happened?

"Go!" She excalimed, seeing his still waiting form. "We have to rescue your brother. And then we will visit my favourite restaurant. You promised."

A smile stretched across his face at her words. With a broad grin, he went to freshen up.

If everything went well, then by the end of the day, he will have his family enjoying themselves together in a restaurant.

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Saad tried to comb his hair but they remained painfully stubborn. Not one of those god forsaken strands budged at his effort.

He threw the comb on the vanity table and sighed.

The day wasn't going very well.

His bruises kept paining, he had a persistent head ache, Neelu had dropped juice on his shirt and now his hair was sticking up like a Banana tree.

He looked himself in the mirror. To put it simple, Saad looked horrible. He had black and blue bruises all over his face, his eye bags look heavy enough to pull him down and he was wearing an unwashed old t-shirt.

"Bhai, um-" Neelu barged in with Maheer following closely behind. These two still seemed to not get along. "Murtasim is here." Maheer finished her words.

"Yeah, I'm coming." Giving himself one last critical look in the mirror, he walked out with his wife and sister.

From the open front door, Saad could see Murtasim's black Mercedes pulling up into their small parking; his bodyguard had to keep the following cars outside. The whole neighbourhood was ogling at the sight.

This will probably fuel the neighbourhood gossip for atleast a month. Saad could already hear all the nosy old people asking him questions.

As usual, Bhaktu opened the door for Murtasim who got out and walked on the other side to open the door for his wife.

Saad didn't know what to feel about seeing his brother after so long. It was an odd feeling; like he was uncomfortable and intrigued at the same time.

Being the complete opposite of him as usual, Murtasim was dressed in an all white suit with his hair perfectly back- brushed and his black glasses in place. Unlike Saad's shabby old t- shirt and sweatpants, his brother looked straight out of the runway.

Saad was convinced there was nothing in this world that could possibly faze Murtasim's ever perfect appearance. If he could, he would probably show up at someone's funeral looking like an Armani Model.

Meerab walked alongside her husband; holding his hand, intrigued eyes taking in the appearance of their house. She probably hadn't ever been inside a house so small. In a white dress that matches her husband's suit, she looked like a curious child.

"Hello, brother." Murtasim greeted him first, that smug smile of his perfectly in place. Reluctantly, Saad greeted him back.

"How are you?" Meerab's eyes were full of concern as she took in his appearance. "And you, Maheer?" She walked forward and took Maheer's hands in her own.

"I am fine." Saad gave her a smile. "Me too." Maheer squeezed her hand and pulled her into an embrace.

They made their way inside, talking about stuff that only girls knew of.

Saad gestured Murtasim to follow as well. He observed Murtasim's reaction to his house. It wasn't nearly as big as the haweli, nor was it half as grand.

But this was Saad's home, his father and uncle had worked hard to build this. He won't tolerate anyone looking down at it.

To his surprise, Murtasim just looked mildly curious. He entered the living room and politely sat himself on one of the sofas.

The only thing he looked judgemental towards was probably Saad's outfit with the way he kept glancing towards him. "Are you trying to bland into the background with those dark coloured clothes?"

This guy!

"Better than you, who looks like a walking prism." Saad gave a dramatic once over towards Murtasim all white outfit that seemed to not have a single blemish.

"Atleast I don't dress like I am constantly at a funeral." Murtasim rolled his eyes.

"I'm not arguing with you." Saad gave up, he knew he couldn't win against his brother. "My clothes are in the wash."

Murtasim still didn't look convinced but let the subject go. The conversation shifted towards the case making Saad feel infinitely more uncomfortable.

He had no desire to see Areeb's stupid face, neither did he want Maheer to see him. The last month had been going great for them. Everything was nice; too nice actually.

And than everything went downhill. Because of course, it did.

Saad was just unlucky.

Maybe Murtasim took all his luck in the womb. That's why he always seemed to have the perfect appearance, the perfect car, the perfect wife, the perfect life.

Saad didn't wish to feel this way. But he just couldn't help it.

He was jealous of Murtasim.