What was so special about this man? He was the third in command, and people were bowing down to him as if he were their supreme leader. He knew how to manipulate, seduce, and make people dance on his word.

"I want you to kill Murtasim Khan."

How odd it was that, different it was from,

"Meerab, I want you to marry Murtasim Khan."

She ould never follow through this, for starters she haven't killed anyone in her life, except for her aunt. And her aunt was a bad person.

So was Murtasim Khan...

He had slaves, mistresses living in the worst kind of living conditions. They didn't had bathroom privileges. How could this man be a good person? And the way she was being treated here, this place had some really bad rules.

No, he wasn't. She had to see him first. According to the rumours, he was a monster, but those could be folklores.

He had slaves, who were treated like pests...

Maybe he wasn't aware of them, Hunaid Khan was the 'rakhwala' of this estate. According to him, Murtasim Khan rarely visited the estate.

Meerab, you really think, Murtasim Khan, is your prince charming?

Her subconscious was killing her, the thoughts, she couldn't decide what to do next. If she killed Murtasim Khan, things would become worse. First of all, she would be labelled as an assassin. Second, things at the estate might go worse, Hunaid Khan had proved to be a cruel man. In her eyes, at least, he was trying to murder Murtasim Khan.

Why use her?

Because you are his fiance, the only one who could get close to him, around you, he could let down his guard. But as his fiance wouldn't she relay this information to Murtasim Khan?

She couldn't understand how Hunaid Khan's mind worked, nor was she interested in the deal, but to save her dignity and Saahil's life, she had to agree.

'Jaan ke badle Jaan, izzat ke badle izzat', that's how feudal societies worked.

Meerab sighed, looking around her room. It felt homely, surprisingly.

She laid down on the bed and closed her eyes to rest until tomorrow. Every day for her was chaotic and traumatic, but at least she had a bed. Tomorrow, she had to travel with Hunaid Khan to Hyderabad. To kill Murtasim Khan, her fiance. Meerab had planned to save Murtasim Khan somehow, and if she was his saviour, he would help her, let her get her house back, and help Saahil return to his country.

She fell asleep while caressing the ring on her finger.

__

Murtasim Khan had ruled over the Khan haveli for years, the haveli was humongous but certain parts of the haveli remained closed. It had been two decades since the east wing had seen a single human, that's where Murtasim Khan's adoptive father, Hashimullah Shah, took his last breath. Murtasim Khan loved him too much, so he dedicated the entire east wing in his name, and to take accurate measurement, it was about 70 acres of land. Uninhabited, unoccupied for years.

The old servants, the security who would keep an eye on the east wing, would often report incidents where they had seen someone peeking through the windows, twice the maulvis were called and they confirmed the suspicion that, the east wing was infact haunted.

The security reduced in the east wing, out of fear people refused to guard the inner wings.

The east wing had a big chandelier as the door opened, it was quite old it seemed, Murtasim Khan sighed looking at the building. He would often come here to breath in the air, to revisit his past see the long halls, he had to close his eyes to imagine the colorful environment because this house was far from colourful. 

Murtasim Khan walked slowly through the grand entrance of the east wing, the chandelier swaying slightly as if acknowledging his presence. The air was thick with memories, each corner echoing with whispers of the past. Dusty portraits lined the walls, their eyes following him as he moved deeper into the abandoned halls.

He reached the grand ballroom, once a place of vibrant gatherings and joyous celebrations. Now, it lay silent and still, the floorboards creaking under his weight. Murtasim paused, his eyes tracing the intricate patterns on the faded wallpaper, recalling the laughter and music that once filled the space. He could almost see Hashimullah Shah, his adoptive father, standing at the center of it all, commanding the room with his presence.

Lost in thought, Murtasim barely noticed the chill that crept into the room. A sudden breeze rustled the heavy drapes, and he turned sharply, half expecting to see a figure standing in the shadows. But there was nothing—only the eerie silence and the weight of his own memories.

Determined to shake off the unease, Murtasim made his way to the library, one of Hashimullah Shah's favorite places. The door creaked open, revealing shelves upon shelves of dusty books. He ran his fingers along the spines, remembering the countless hours he had spent here, learning from the man who had been more of a father to him than anyone else.

As he reached for a particular book, a faint whisper echoed through the room. He froze, straining to hear more. It was as if the very walls were trying to speak to him, to share the secrets they had held for so long. Murtasim hesitated, his hand hovering over the book. Was it just his imagination, or was there truly something more to the east wing's haunting?

The whisper grew louder, more insistent. He pulled the book from the shelf, revealing a hidden compartment behind it. Inside, the compartment was a  room, old dusty with a man sitting on a bed, his bloodshot eyes met Murtasim's.

"Hello father!"

The old man’s sneer twisted into a malevolent grin as Murtasim stepped into the hidden room, the light from the chandelier casting eerie shadows across his face. The atmosphere grew thicker, the air almost crackling with dark energy. Murtasim’s presence seemed to stir something sinister within the walls of the east wing.

“Father,” Murtasim repeated, his voice smooth and low, like velvet. He approached the ghostly figure with a predatory grace, his eyes never leaving the old man’s.

“Did you miss me?” Murtasim continued, his tone both accusatory and affectionate. He reached out, his fingers brushing the edge of the old bed.
The old man’s bloodshot eyes glinted with a mixture of anger and fear, but he remained silent. Murtasim’s smile widened, a dangerous edge to his charm. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against the cold, ghostly presence of his adoptive father.

“I’ve missed you, too,” he whispered, his voice dripping with a twisted sort of longing. “But you see, I’ve become quite different in your absence. Stronger. Powerful. And soo”

Murtasim straightened, his posture exuding confidence and power. He began to pace around the small room, the dust swirling in his wake. “This wing,” he mused, “Should I set it on fire?”

The old man’s form flickered, his eyes narrowing. Murtasim’s smile turned predatory. He could feel the ghost’s resentment, its desire to haunt and torment. But he wasn’t afraid. On the contrary, he reveled in it.

“Do you remember the lessons you taught me, father?” he asked, his voice a seductive purr. “The power of control, the art of manipulation. You molded me into what I am today. And now, I have surpassed even your wildest expectations.”

Murtasim’s eyes gleamed with a dangerous light as he approached the man once more. He reached out, his fingers on the old man’s forehead, “I have become the most powerful man of this city, the chief minister. And soon I will he the prime minister. But you will remain here neither dead nor alive.”

The old man’s form seemed to shrink, his eyes wide with rage. He leaned in, his lips inches from the old man’s ear.

“Embrace the darkness, father,” he whispered, his voice a seductive caress. “For it is all you have.”

With that, Murtasim turned and left the hidden room, his footsteps echoing through the silent halls of the east wing. The chandelier swayed gently above, casting dancing shadows on the walls. As he walked away, a sense of satisfaction settled over him. The east wing was his domain, a place where he could fully embrace his true self.

___

Meerab had hated this place, but now that she was allowed a little freedom outside the haveli, she was intrigued by the beautiful fields, kids were playing in the fields, running around chasing each other.

She turned to Murtuza who had escorted her out, "So these are the fields owned by Murtasim Khan?"

Murtuza shook his head, "No, these lands belong to the slaves".

"Slaves have their own set of land?" Murtuza shrugged, "Yes, it's the deal, the land belongs to them."

"If they own such vast lands, how are they slaves?"

"Well.. you see, there were many opium plantations in this area, that land was completely barren. The farmers who got that land from the government earned nothing, so they sent a member of their family as a collateral. As soon as their due period is over, they will be released. Some are land collaterals and others are refugees. "

Made sense, Murtasim Khan didn't seem like the type of man who would give out land for free.

"So how do they earn currently?"

"The slaves are paid heftly, and they aren't slaves basically, they are servants with debts. They can live in the servant quarters but the slave quarters adds extra to their wage".

There was a wage!

"Where is my wage?" She was almost excited the thought of earning something out of this was relieving. But Murtuza shook his head.

"You aren't just a slave, Meerab. You are a prisoner, you broke some rules here. We can't let you go, until your repentence period is over. Your ".

Meerab bit her lip, "Repentence period, for what?"

"For trespassing, trying to escape in your repentance period. Honestly, you should have ended up in a prison, but here you are touring the city with me."

Meerab shrugged, "Because I am Murtasim Khan's fiance?"

Murtuza laughed softly, "That might have something to do with it."

Meerab rolled her eyes. Despite the seemingly harsh conditions, there was a sense of community and resilience among the people. She wondered if she could ever feel a part of this world, one that was so different from the life she knew.

"What happens when my repentance period is over?" she asked, trying to mask the anxiety in her voice.

"That depends," Murtuza replied. "You could be free to go, or you might choose to stay. Murtasim Khan’s decisions are often unpredictable."

"Think of it as an opportunity," Murtuza suggested. "You have the chance to understand this place and the people. It might help you see things differently."

Meerab glanced at the children playing in the fields, their laughter ringing through the air. "Maybe," she conceded. "But it's hard to forget I'm still a prisoner."

Murtuza nodded. "Prove your worth, and things might change. Maybe you can earn some properties in your name in Punjab".

"I don't like this place at all".

Murtuza chuckled behind her and she didn't laugh. "You will get used to this life".

"What if I don't want to live this life?"

"What do you want?"

Her mind raced, and she imagined herself running across the roads, all by herself. It was never the adrenaline she had craved, it was the breath of fresh air...

"I want freedom"

She heard the sound of metals clashing together, Murtuza noticed her curiosity, "Training grounds for the soldiers".

That was a large army of soldiers, Meerab looked around, it seemed like they were preparing for a war. She turned to Murtuza, "Are you preparing for some kind of war?"

Murtuza shook his head, "It's been a year since the war with India, we can't afford more casualty. This is for the security of our state, strong men make a strong country".

Her eyes went to the ground where she heard a noise, Hunaid Khan was on the ground looking around, instructing the soldiers.

"Aren't you higher ranked then Hunaid?"

Murtuza thought for a second then, nodded his head, "I am.."

Meerab was excited, "Then do me a favour, call him over".

There was someone above that haughty Hunaid Khan, Murtuza was about to walk towards the Khan, Meerab shook her head, "Call him like the servants call the slaves."

"I wouldn't dare to!"

"Why are you so scared? If you won't, I will", Murtuza was alarmed, he couldn't embarass his boss infront of the men so he called him, "Aye, you!"

Hunaid Khan's head snapped up at the call. His eyes narrowed as he spotted Murtuza and Meerab. With a scowl, he walked over, his strides long and purposeful.

"What is it?" he demanded, his tone sharp.

Meerab met his gaze steadily. "I wanted to speak with you."

Hunaid’s expression darkened further. "You do not summon me like a common servant."

"Then perhaps you should remember that you are not above everyone here," Meerab retorted. "Even those who are considered prisoners or slaves have their dignity."

Hunaid clenched his jaw, clearly struggling to keep his temper in check. "What do you want, Meerab?"

"I want to understand why you are so intent on making life difficult for everyone," she said bluntly. "Including me."

Hunaid's eyes flashed with anger. "You are here because you broke the rules."

"And you enforce them with an iron fist, making sure no one forgets their place," she replied. "But what good does it do?"

"It ensures peace, you wouldn't understand it".

"I'm trying to," Meerab said. "I may be a prisoner, but I'm also Murtasim Khan's fiancée. I want to understand this place, the people, and the struggles they face."

Hunaid studied her for a moment, then gave a curt nod. "Very well. But remember, Meerab, lives are at stake, and rules exist for a reason. If you break a rule, someone's life would be at stake."

The excitement in her eyes was replaced with fear, did he just threaten her with Saahil's life. That bloody Hunaid Khan!

As Hunaid walked away, she controlled her rage and turned to Murtuza. "Thank you for that."

Murtuza smiled slightly. "You have a fire in you, Meerab. Perhaps that's exactly what this place needs."

Meerab looked out over the fields again, the sense of purpose beginning to take root within her. But then her eyes went to the training grounds again, she saw Hunaid Khan instructing a young boy, when he failed to do so, Hunaid took the position of his opponent.

The sunlight glistened on his back, as he rolled the opponent in the mud, he was wearing his vest unlike the others, she turned to Murtuza to ask why but closed her mouth before that question could escape, what would she ask him?

Why wasn't Hunaid Khan naked?

She couldn't do that, "He is the fastest one here, hold your breath he is about to tackle him",

Hunaid Khan moved with a fluid grace, easily taking down his opponent. The soldiers around them cheered, a mix of admiration and camaraderie in their voices. Meerab watched intently, her earlier frustration giving way to a grudging respect for Hunaid's skill.

Murtuza noticed her expression. "Impressive, isn't he? Hunaid may be harsh, but he's earned his place through skill and discipline."Meerab nodded slowly.

"I can see that. But still, there's more to leadership than just strength."

"True," Murtuza agreed. "That's why Hunaid Khan values different perspectives. Perhaps your voice can bring about some needed changes."

Meerab turned to Murtuza, "Different perspectives? I am imprisoned, my friend is in the dungeons. He wouldn't even listen to our please. Hunaid Khan is far from a leader, Murtuza who is your leader, Hunaid Khan or Murtasim Khan?"

"Murtasim Khan"

"Good. Then keep that in mind and stop being Hunaid Khan's spokesperson, it doesn't suit you".

"When will we leave for Hyderabad?" Meerab asked, she had to kill Murtasim Khan, reach him. And Hunaid wanted to escort her there, she would have preferred anyone over him. But he didn't trust her...

___

Meerab's flirty reputation was quite popular, Murtasim remembered one event where he heard whispers.

"I will give up my wealth just to bed her", He had heard the young lad beside him boast, he was doing it on purpose knowing that Meerab was bethrothed to Murtasim. It burnt his skin, irked him to no end.

"I touched her waist, and she ran away", he laughed, and Murtasim held the table controlling his anger. He didn't know this woman, but her reputation and character wasn't innocent. And the fact that this disgusting low man had grazed his so called fiance's waist made him burn for vengeance.

That night the young Lord's wife danced with Murtasim Khan, and bed him, as he poisoned the young lad.

Nobody touched what was his. Even if it was someone he didn't want, they wouldn't dare touch it. And Meerab Khan belonged to him, even if he didn't care about her.

She was a men charmer, money hungry like her father and uncle. With her sultry expressions and beautiful face, she would spellbound men. But Murtasim couldn't fall in her trap, he was the master deceiver, and seducer.

He wanted to manipulate her, trap her, corner her. And use her in his ploy, no better reason to break an age old promise then a murder attempt. His reputation was important in public eyes, so he wanted her to be the villain for his image. 

Murtasim Khan's fiance tried to murder him... this would add points to his public image, make people sympathize with him.

He couldn't let her runaway, why he didn't know. He had placed her in slave's quarter, so that she could runaway on her own but then when he saw her leaving, he couldn't digest the fact that she was leaving just like that. Without any struggle. That Indian soldier was more important than him in her eyes. She didn't bat an eye infront of Hunaid. She was attracted but rejected all his offers for Murtasim.

It stung his ego, he was jealous of himself. It was comical. But how could a woman resist him, he had an amazing physique, woman would melt at very sight of him. Married woman, widow, single maidens, who was Meerab?

He caressed his moustache, and curled it towards the end wearing the white polo shirt as this was a casual outing for him. He wanted Meerab to reveal her real face. He checked himself in the mirror twice and decided that he needed to wear his kurta instead. Murtasim Khan didn't realise how the little pawn in his game was already affecting him, the Murtasim Khan who had never cared about his appearance and covered his face was now dressing up for an outing.

He called Murtuza in, "Kaisa lagraha hu mai?" Murtuza eyed the white sherwani he wore. And bit his tongue, "Khan aap nikkah karne jar rahey hai kya?"

(Khan are you going to marry someone?)

Murtasim sent him out and changed into his normal suit, "Ab?"

(Now?)

Murtuza hesitated why did it matter? Murtasim was never the type who cared about looks.

"Like our Khan should look. Mai yaha maafi maangne aaya tha".

(I came here to apologize).

He bowed his head, scared, Murtasim Khan's anger could strike at any time, a smiling Murtasim Khan was scarier than an angry one so he apologized.

"Kis baat ke liye?"

(For what reason)

"Bahar aapko waise bulane k liye (For addressing you like that, outside)", poor Murtuza was stuck, if he hadn't followed through Meerab's words he would have been punished but by doing so he had disrespected his Khan.

He felt something on his head and knew this was end. But when the shot wasn't fired he looked up, and realized it was Murtasim Khan's hand patting his head, "You are a better actor than me, take care of this place until I return", he handed him his gun. Murtuza was left in awe, his jaw hanging, this man was his Khan????

His behaviour was phenomenally different from before, "You like her", he concluded, Murtasim stopped, "Who?"

"Meerab, you like her".

Murtasim laughed, "Pfftt... she is just my prisoner, nothing more".

"You let her out of the dungeon into the servant's quarter. Told them not to disclose your identity, asked the mistresses not to assign her any work, looked after her when she collapsed, didn't punish her for running away? You like her, but even if you like her, why portray yourself as a cruel man. Why tell her those are slaves instead of refugees of war?"

Murtuza was getting a headache, Murtasim gave a bitter laugh, "Because I need to see where her loyalty lies".

Murtuza sighed. "You could have simply asked her."

"People lie, Murtuza. Actions reveal the truth," Murtasim said, his voice cold.

Murtuza Khan couldn't understand what was up with Murtasim Khan, "Why are you keeping her in the servant's quarters?"

"So her greedy uncle who sent her here, can know that I don't care about her."

"How are you so sure that this is all a plan?"

"Breaking into the Chief Minister's house with an Indian soldier, that can't be coincidental. Her uncle must have trained her. "

"So her uncle is behind all this?"

"He could be, she used to work for her father before this" Murtasim Khan continued, his voice cold and calculating.

Murtuza Khan frowned, contemplating his words. "And you think treating her like a servant will make her reveal the truth?"

"For now, it keeps her out of trouble. But soon enough, I'll need to confront her directly, when I have her cornered. She is willful. Won't listen to me, one of those rich family brats, who bend down to the absolute power. I want to break her and her uncle's dreams, maybe the prime minister's too",  Murtuza shook his head, skeptical.

"And what if she is innocent? What if she truly doesn't know about her uncle's plans?" Murtasim sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"That's what I'm trying to figure out. If she's truly unaware, then she's caught in a game she doesn't deserve to be in. But if she's part of the plan, then she needs to be dealt with." Murtuza frowned.

"You always did like playing with fire, Murtasim. Just be careful it doesn't burn you." Murtasim's eyes hardened, a flicker of determination crossing his face.

"I've been burned before, Murtuza. But this time, I intend to control the flames. Now, get things ready. We have a long day ahead."

Collecting his shawl Murtasim walked ahead carrying the grumpy look along, if he wasn't the chief minister of the state, Murtasim could have been one of the top models of country.

___

Meerab was a little excited to finally meet him, she had butterflies in her stomach at the thought of meeting her fiance. She took a bath, washing away the stench from her body, cleansing her face of the mud, since she was an assassin Hunaid had shifted her to a better room.

The water was warm and relaxing, and she felt clean.

She got out of the room singing to herself. She heard a knock on the door, "Your clothes have been washed".

Meerab extended her hand but instead of the clothes, the door pushed open and Jasmine jumped inside closing the door startling her.

"So you took my advice"

Meerab bit her lips, she hadn't, "What a room..." Jasmine sighed jumping on the bed.

"You are glowing", Meerab smiled, "I am excited to finally meet Murtasim Khan".

"Oh.."

There was a look of disappointment on Jasmine's face. "So you didn't like Hunaid Khan?"

Meerab shook her head, "What is there to like?"

"I can ask the same for Murtasim Khan".

"He is my fiance, and I am loyal to him".

"If Murtasim found out you slept with Hunaid Khan?"

"Who told you I slept with him?"

"This room....So you didn't?"

"What? ", Meerab realised something, all this time Jasmine had been defending Hunaid because... "You like Hunaid."

" I wouldn't dare to", her eyes widened as she shook her head, her face turning red.

"Haha you are flustered", Meerab pointed out. Jasmine stopped to think for a while as Meerab started singing to herself.

"Okay, okay I like him. I mean who wouldn't want to...", Jasmine wiggled her eyebrows.

Meerab couldn't help but laugh, it wasn't bad having a female friend. And Jasmine was kinda right, Hunaid Khan was a tempting man.

___

As she entered the car, Murtasim took an inhale, "Finally cleaned up?"

Meerab didn't like the tone, did he mean she was dirty before, which she technically was and stunk but all of this was his fault to begin with. So he had no right to comment on her cleanliness.

"I want to make a good impression on Murtasim Khan", She said with a roll of her eyes, realising she was explaining this to Hunaid, "I have waited for years to meet him, so before I have to kill him, I want to look my best".

He felt something tug at his heart strings, all of this was for him, her eyes were so innocent childlike. The excitement he found it oddly cute. It was as if he was asking her to break the favourite toy of hers and she was giving it a farewell ceremony.

"Tum khoobsurat ho (You are pretty)", Hunaid offered, softly looking at the delicate woman as the carriage started.

Meerab frowned, where was this coming from? Maybe the shower had cleared away the dust from her face for Hunaid to realise she was indeed pretty.

"I don't care about your opinion, or you. The only person I care about is Murtasim Khan".

Another tug at his heartstring.

Hunaid wanted to tease her, "And you think Murtasim Khan cares about you?"

"I think he would, once he meets me." Her voice had a tinge of sadness, and Hunaid couldn't taunt her anymore.

Hunaid felt a pang of guilt at her words. But he shook his head . Guilt? Just for a mere game, he was going soft.

He studied Meerab's profile, the thought of crushing her spirit seemed almost cruel, but he reminded himself of the stakes involved. It was funny how he was rethinking his choices and decisions.

"Don't get your hopes up too high," he said, trying to sound indifferent. "Murtasim Khan is not an easy man to impress."

Meerab sighed, looking out the window at the passing scenery. "I know. But I have to try."

The carriage ride was silent for a few moments, each lost in their own thoughts. Hunaid glanced at her again, a part of him wishing things were different. Wishing he had never pretended to be this other guy...

___

Buckle up for romance arc ahead❤️‍🔥 I am so excited, I was literally over the darkness in this book, finally the cupid in me is set free.

Weekly updates🥂

Meerab and Hunaid's journey to kill Murtasim Khan😏 gosh it's hard keeping up with two names, readers are confused, Meerab is confused, Murtuza, Jasmine and your author💀

Parts where you think Murtuza and Jasmine are revealing too much, are slip ups