I am pmsing, and wanted to cry.

IMPORTANT: This os is a tragedy, meaning one of them dies, I don't want any comment saying 'We don't want to read this stuff and blah blah'. If you don't want to read it, skip it.

___

There was heavy unguarded silence as a man stepped in the room, wearing a white kurta, his eyes fell on the woman who sat on the bed, her grey hair neatly plaited, her eyes squinted slightly as she looked at the photo frame.

The very photo she had burnt a few years ago.

"Ammi," Yasir called her name softly, and she turned to face him. It seemed she had aged within a day.

He didn’t have to utter a word. A silent conversation took place as the tall man bent down, and his mother patted his head, "I am so sorry, Ammi."

Meerab sighed, she detected the guilt in his voice, "Yasir beta, it's okay. Tumhari Abba ki khwaish thi ke tum apni zindagi jeeyon. You don’t have to be guilty, because I am not upset, I am proud of you."

Yasir wanted to travel the world, be a travel vlogger for a company, so he set out to a tour. Earning money with his modeling gigs and spending it on his trips. He would often contact his parents and his father would ask him of the trips, to send back the pictures.

Yasir had inherited the adventurous trait from Murtasim. Murtasim couldn't stop him from living his dream.

Yasir still vividly remembered the day when he had approached his father, "Baba jaan mujhe..."

Murtasim eyed him, "Yaha aao baitho," he asked him to sit, Yasir rarely stuttered. It seemed he was actually nervous, "Kya baat hai?"

"Baba, I don't want to become a feudal lord like you," Yasir closed his eyes expecting a lash out rather, he felt a gentle pat on his shoulder, "Then what do you want to do?"

His father's voice was assertive, yet calm, his eyes glinting with pride, "I want to be travel vlogger," Murtasim almost burst out laughing.

Yasir thought Murtasim was laughing at him, he wasn't taking it seriously.

"Meerab!"

He called her name, standing up from his chair, "Meerab!"

He was lauging whilst Meerab entered the room and saw the different expressions,  Yasir's crest fallen face, while Murtasim's amused one.

"Kya hua?"

Murtasim directed her towards Yasir, "Pehle baitho", he made her sit on the chair, as her eyes went from father to son, "Batao toh."

"Mai kehta tha na ye tumhara beta hai?"

Yasir was Meerab's chamcha, Murtasim's biggest competitor growing up. He would follow her around like a little knight. He was Murtasim's little enemy, as a baby too, Yasir would start crying whenever Murtasim held him.

"Haan toh?" Meerab asked.

"Mai galat tha, ye mera beta hai," Murtasim turned to Yasir, "I wish at your age, I had the guts to ask my father the same... "

His eyes were almost teary as he uttered the words, "I want you fulfill all your dreams... live the life I never got," he was almost teary, "Just promise me one thing."

Murtasim placed his hand on Yasir's shoulder, "That you wouldn't give up on your dreams for anyone."

"I promise Baba."

Murtasim broke the cycle of generational emotional trauma. He couldn't let his kids give up their dreams. He couldn't pass on his trauma onto his precious Yasir and Meesam.

"Meesam kidhar hai?"

"Hospital mai thi..."

Meerab replied, almost feeling drained.

The quiet of the room weighed heavily on Meerab’s frail shoulders. Her eyes lingered on Yasir, but in her mind, she was a world away, lost in the echoes of a voice that no longer filled the spaces of their home.

Murtasim.

She whispered his name in the silence, feeling the syllables fall like lead from her lips. Her fingers traced the edge of the photo frame, where Murtasim’s face stared back at her. He had laughed at her as if he always knew he’d be the first to leave, always unafraid of the inevitable. She could still see his teasing smile, hear the rough warmth of his voice as he’d argue with her—her last glimpse of him was alive with that laughter, his spirit unwavering, even if life had often been harsh.

"Murtasim tumne kaha tha agar maine iska sip liya toh tum bhi peeyogey", she said and Murtasim held his nose.

"Tauba karo Meerab ye kya bhindi ka paani, karela ka juice peela peelakar tang kardiya hai", Meerab glared at him, "Tumhi roz roz meetha khaakar aajatey ho, sugar high hai tumhari Meesam ke Abba".

He made a face, "Mere liye peelo", she said giving him the puppy face, "Ye galat baat hai, emotional blackmail mat kiya karo", still he gulped down the drink

"Chiii".

"Aye shaitan, chupchap piyo".

She let her thumb rest over his face, and the memories came flooding back like waves crashing into a shore that couldn’t hold them back.

The first time he had smiled at her on their valimah night, her heart had almost stopped beating. She had hated him back then, bristled at his every word. And yet, each time he softened, each time he brushed a hand against hers as if he was laying claim to something he never needed to declare, her defenses chipped away. His laughter had always been the first thing to break down her walls, and now it echoed in the hollow of her chest, mocking her loneliness.

Her hands trembled, her knuckles whitening as she held onto the frame tighter, as if that could bring him back.

Murtasim. Her Murtasim.

There were days when she had imagined life without him, cursed his name, swore she would never forgive him. But those words felt so empty now. She’d trade every moment of her stubbornness, every fight, and every argument if it meant she could just see him one more time. Just one more laugh. One more smile that said he knew her better than she knew herself.

The tears came unbidden, slipping down her cheeks and blurring the face in the photo. It hurt to remember, but it hurt even more to try and let go.

Meerab clenched her jaw, staring at the door as if he might just walk in. Her voice cracked as she whispered, "Qayamat tak saath dogey kaha tha... you broke your promise Murtasim." She pressed the photo to her heart, a quiet, desolate sob breaking through her.

Yasir looked on, his own eyes full of tears, witnessing his mother’s grief. He had never seen her break down like this. But he knew—he knew that the depth of her pain matched the depth of their love.

As the funeral preparations began, Meerab moved through the motions, feeling hollow, as if she were only a shadow cast by the light of her memories. She watched as they prepared Murtasim for his final journey, each moment sharpening the reality that he was gone. Her heart felt like a wound torn open, raw and unhealed, as she witnessed them handle him with the reverence he had earned, the quiet honor he’d always carried.

When it came time to bid him farewell, she stood there, surrounded by family and friends, but feeling profoundly alone. Yasir stood beside her, his hand slipping into hers for a fleeting moment of comfort. But nothing could soften the ache inside her, the scream that clung to her throat, a voice that would never reach Murtasim now.

Meerab’s fingers trembled as she reached out to touch his face one last time. His skin was cold, a painful contrast to the warmth she remembered. It felt wrong, as though the world had played a cruel trick on her, leaving only this hollow reminder of the man who had been so full of life, so full of love.

She sank to her knees beside him, her hands resting on his chest as if she could bring his heart back to beat once more. She stared at his face, at the peace that rested there, and in that moment, she realized what she had been too afraid to admit. The words that had always hovered between them, unspoken, yet known.

“Do you remember how much you teased me, Murtasim?” Her voice was barely a whisper, soft and fragile. “Mai chala jaonga tab maanogi kya?”

Her lips trembled, and the tears began to fall again, sliding down her cheeks and dripping onto his shirt. “You asked me once...if I ever loved you.” She took a shaky breath, her hand clenching the fabric of his shirt as she fought to steady herself. “And I never gave you an answer.”

The words she had locked away for so long finally found their way out, breaking the silence that had separated them.

“I love you,” she whispered, her voice cracking with the weight of those words, raw and exposed. “I love you, Murtasim. I was always just too afraid to tell you.”

Her sobs grew louder, her grief spilling over as she clung to him, pressing her forehead against his chest as if she could draw his warmth back into her. She whispered his name over and over, her voice soft and broken, each repetition a plea to a man who would never answer her again.

Yasir moved forward, gently placing a hand on her shoulder, but she shook her head, refusing to let go. She knew, somewhere deep down, that this was goodbye. Yet it felt like she was tearing her heart out, piece by piece, with each breath that brought her closer to letting him go.

With trembling hands, she brushed her fingers along his cheek, memorizing every line, every curve, as if she could etch him into her soul forever. Her lips quivered as she leaned down, pressing a final kiss to his forehead, a kiss she had denied him too many times in life.

“Goodbye, Murtasim,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, choked by her tears. “I love you... I always will.”

In the silence that followed, Meerab let herself break for the first time without him, falling onto the concrete where he had offered her his hand when her parents left her. Now on the same concrete she sat watching his body being taken away, mourning the man who had loved her fiercely, even when she hadn’t wanted him to. Her heart ached in ways she hadn’t thought possible, and she knew, as she clutched his memory to her chest, that Murtasim would be with her forever, etched into the very fabric of her being, even if his touch was no longer there to comfort her.

And as they laid him down to rest, Meerab felt a part of herself lay to rest with him, a piece of her heart that would never truly heal. She stood there, tears streaming down her face, watching as they covered him, the finality of it crashing over her like a wave. The words she had spoken—the ones he’d waited a lifetime to hear—hung in the air, a promise made too late, yet a truth that would endure long after they’d said goodbye.

Now, she had to live without his love—a love that had surrounded her like the air she breathed, even when she had tried to push it away. She had to wake each morning without his teasing words and him calling her name in every corner of the haveli as he searched for her.

She would go through her days without the gentle touch of his hand as he brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, a simple act that had always been filled with love. His steady presence, his quiet strength, the unwavering support he offered without question—all of it was gone, leaving an emptiness that words could not fill. She had to live without his laughter, without his stubbornness, without his love that had been her shield and her refuge.

She had to live without him...

___

On the day of her wedding, Meerab sat in front of the mirror, her face veiled in light makeup, her bridal attire draping around her like a crimson wave. The room was buzzing with people adjusting her dupatta, preparing her for a future she never wanted, a marriage she’d once resisted with every fiber of her being. But as her eyes met her reflection, something unusual stirred within her—a sense of clarity she couldn’t quite explain.

The memories were hazy, like faded dreams from another life, yet they lingered in the corners of her mind. Murtasim’s laughter echoing in their old home, his unwavering support, the way his eyes softened when he looked at her. She could almost feel his warmth, his hand in hers as he promised to stay by her side. In that moment, she realized that her heart ached not with the fear of marriage, but with a regret she couldn’t fully grasp.

“Meerab, you're almost ready. Just a few finishing touches,” Maryam's voice broke her trance, but she barely registered it. She was lost in a different world—a world where she had once loved and lost the very man she was about to marry.

As the ceremony time drew near, she stood up, letting the dupatta settle over her shoulders, feeling its weight not as a burden but as a reminder of her new beginning. A wave of determination filled her, and for the first time, she felt a calm acceptance take root in her heart.

She knew Murtasim would be waiting, as steadfast and patient as he always was. This time, she vowed silently, she wouldn’t let fear or pride keep her from embracing what they could have. She would cherish every moment, take his hand without hesitation, and show him the love she had denied him in another life. She was determined not to repeat the same mistakes.

As she walked towards him, her steps felt lighter, her heart filled with a warmth she hadn’t known before. And when she finally saw him, standing tall and composed, with a soft smile just for her, she felt that unexplainable ache in her heart ease, as if this was exactly where she was meant to be.

Through the little curtain, her eyes fell on his figure, and Meerab felt tears falling. She wanted to run and hug him, feel the familiar warmth of his arms.

Her eyes met his, and she felt her heart stop. Those familiar brown eyes held her captive.

"...kya aapko ye nikkah qubool hai?"

The maulvi asked, this time around, Meerab didn't hesitate, she didn't hate him anymore, all she wanted was to hug this man and cry in his arms.

"Qubool hai."

She said loudly, her eyes meeting Murtasim, a smile playing on her lips.

This time around, she will shower him with the love he deserves.

Murtasim admired her confidence, as his own heart was conflicted but when he saw her sweet smile through her veil, his heart beat increased, he wasn't hesitant anymore.

"Qubool hai"

He finalised the nikkah by repeating the words.

Meerab glanced around and saw Waqas Ahmed standing there. "Baba," she uttered the word standing up, her father, she couldn't say goodbye to him in her last life.

Tears fell down her eyes as she hugged him, "I am sorry..," she apologized for not understanding him, it took her a lifetime and two kids to understand her father.

Waqas was shocked, a moment before she had refused to even acknowledge him and now she was embracing him, apologizing to him.

He didn’t deserve an apology, as he had failed to fulfill her wishes. He had failed to protect her.

"Tum kyun maafi maang rahi ho Meerab? Maine tumhe dhokey mai rakha... jhoot bola."

"Mai aapko maaf karti hu, aap dono se nafrat nahi karsakti mai, mere Maa Baba hai aap, naam se bhalle hi mai  Meerab Anwar Khan hu, meri pehchan humesha Meerab Waqas Ahmed rahegi."

Waqas was dumbfounded, "Beta..."

He was speechless, but Meerab couldn't waste this moment. She didn’t know when she had to return back to her real life, so she hugged her father, whom she couldn't say goodbye to.

Murtasim had an odd feeling, as he witnessed all of this, happy and content the everything was going well. But he was doubtful, how were things going so smoothly?

What was that smile for?

It felt real, and Murtasim couldn't help but think to himself. Was this the same Meerab from yesterday?

He had no idea. But he was thankful.

__

When Murtasim entered the room, he found his 'wife' sitting on the bed, Maa Begum stood there, her eyes admiring the two of them.

"Mashallah mere bacche kitne acche lagrahey".

Murtasim smiled at his mother as she passed him the mu dikhai gift, "Ye lo apni biwi ko mu dikhai dedo."

Meerab's eyes were on Murtasim the whole time, she could read his expressions, he was annoyed and confused.

She thought he would comment, yet he slowly lifted her veil.

Murtasim took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as if to release some of the tension coiling in his chest. With a firm yet careful motion, he slipped the ring onto Meerab's finger.

Meerab looked down at the ring, then back up at him, her heart racing. “Thank you,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper, laced with uncertainty. She wanted to reassure him, to tell him that she would make this work, that she could be the wife he deserved. But she didn’t want to scare him...

"Maine Maa ko nhi bheja tha", Murtasim repeated the lines from last life mistakening her sad look, as angry.

Her thought process was interuppted, as she gazed at him, his dark eyes gazed back at her expecting harsh words. The look he gave her was warm yet soft. His hair was gelled back neatly, the pug missing. She actually liked him in the pug a lot. His cream kurta, softly hugging his broad shoulders, he was so familiar yet distant.

Those eyes, that annoyed expression, those lips...

She missed him so much.

"Murtasim...", Tears filled her eyes once again as she took him in. The last time she saw him was at his deathbed, and Meerab was terrified that he would disappear once again.

What if this was all a dream?

She would atleast confess her feelings before she woke up.

"Tum ro kyu rahi ho?" He asked worried, he couldn't figure out what was she playing, "Meerab ye koi naya natak hai kya?"

This cold woman who had always cursed on him, was uttering his name with so much love that it echoed in his brain like a broken record.

Murtasim...

Murtasim...

Murtasim...

"Do you remember me?" She asked in hopes that he must have reincarnated too, or if this was a dream she could manipulate it.

"Meerab... mujhe bhulne ki bimari nahi hai, aur fikar na karo, mujhe koi interest nahi hai in rasmon mai, toh ye natak khatam karo abhi", he could handle the bratty Meerab over the lovesick one.

He wasn't taking her seriously...

But Meerab couldn't stop herself anymore, as she pulled him into a hug. Her arms encircling around his waist as she sat on the bed, she could smell his familiar cologne, felt his warmth and touch.

This was her Murtasim.

He was uncomfortable to say the least.

She didn't move after a second, a whole minute passed with her clinging to him, "Meerab?" He wanted to ask what kind of drugs did she inhale for this reaction. But for some reason he couldn't utter a word.

Murtasim felt his heartbeat increase, a tingling sensation as she held him, she could technically touch him, because she was his wife. And he didn't dislike her hug, he liked it, yet it felt as if Meerab was acting out his fantasies. 

Meerab... he had never disliked her.

Infact he had always been drawn to her, but she was too wild and disrespectful to him. And he couldn't have that.

But her fierce attitude pulled him, she was the fire to his ice.

And he was melting in her arms, he questioned himself.

Did he like her all along?

He knew the answer to this question, but Meerab's voice scared him, "I love you."

What the fuck?

He pulled away from her, "Are you planning on killing me?"

"What?"

Murtasim saw her horrified expression and wanted to his words back, he actions had confused him, "This affection, I don't understand, tum toh mujhse nafrat karti thi, meri shaqal bhi dekhna nhi chahti thi, phir ye drama kyun kar rahi ho acchanak", he would have her fighting instead of this.

I love you...

Did she actually say the words, or did he imagine it?

He had no idea, but the butterflies in his stomach were telling him that she had said those words.

But she approached him, "Tum bed par sojao bas mujhse durr raho".

Meerab quickly realised what she had done. She scared him away.

Did she act like Haya by hugging him?

"Shukar hai," she voiced loudly jumping on the bed, "Ki tumhe samajh aagayi."

He went to sit on the his chair, as Meerab went to the vanity mirror, "Waha kya baitho ho, help me remove these bobby pins."

"What pins?"

He stood up and walked towards her, she removed a pin from her hair, "See there are fifty more pins, so get to work".

"Naukar nahi hu tumhara", Murtasim said, Meerab glared at him, and he sighed, carefully removing each pin.

"Good", she remarked, in last life she had done all the work by herself, now she could sit back and relax as Murtasim removed the pins.

"Itne pins ki kya zaroorat thi?"

Meerab replied, "Tumhare tarah gel se toh nhi naha sakti na..."

"Oh isiliye tum mujhse lipat gayi thi... because you hated my hair?" He was biting his lip looking at her in the mirror, "Murtasim you might go bald early".

She was lying, he never went bald in last life but she wanted to shift the topic.

"Meri fikar chodo apna socho," he combed through her hair and showed her broken tangled hair.

Those fucking pins!!

"Zindagi bhar ke baal nochlo!" She said snatching away the comb, "Pyaar se kaangi nhi karsakte tum?"

He leaned towards her and whispered in her ear, "Jitne pyaar se tumne mera naam pukara tha? Murtasim... the way you call my name", his teasing eyes and hot breath caused her to fluster.

"Apni cousin ko dekhlo jaakar kahi tumhare pyaar mai apni nas na kaatle", she said, Murtasim's eyes widened, "Kya bakwaas kar rahi ho?"

She shrugged, "Acchi tarah jaanti hu mai usko," she adjusted her dupatta, "Shart lagaogey?"

"This isn't something to bet about, Meerab you are too insensitive," Meerab rolled her eyes, she questioned herself when she was older, what held her back from loving Murtasim? The answer wasn't Haya, it was Murtasim's mixed emotions for Haya.

She snatched her pins from his hand, "Jao apni Haya ke aansu pocho," she said and pushed him away.

She realised although she had went back in time, this Murtasim wasn't hers.

He was Maa Begum's son and Haya's dearest cousin.

Meerab laid down on the bed and closed her eyes. She missed her Murtasim, he was stubborn yet he would never run after another woman.

Wait, was she actually being insensitive?

She knew nothing would happen to Haya, cutting her wrist was to get Murtasim’s attention.

She got out of bed, and went to Maryam's room, "Haya kya kardiya tumne!"

Meerab saw the blood and the broken bangles, Murtasim holding her in his arms, she rolled her eyes.

"Maryam first aid box lao," she ordered holding Haya's wrist, the cut was horizontal and far away from the main artery.

She cleaned her wrist and wrapped the gauze around the wound, "Kaafi deep cut hai."

Haya was still delirious, "Murtasim sirf mera hai", muttering to herself, "Ji bilkul", Meerab glanced at Murtasim, "Khayal rakho apni mashooka ka, I am going to sleep."

Meerab said leaving Murtasim there, she fell asleep.

The next time Meerab woke up, she found herself back in her room, Meesam was sleeping beside her, "Ammi", Meesam hugged her mother, "Kya hua?"

She saw the IV drip linked to her wrist, "Aap do din ke baad uthi hai," there was a fear in her eyes, her kids had recently lost their father, they were extremely careful with their mother now.

"Mere sapne mai Murtasim aaya," Meerab said almost content. She was happy that she could convey her feelings, yet sad that she couldn't stay with him longer.

Meesam listened to Meerab talk about her dream while having breakfast.

"Kabar par chaley kya Baba ke?"

It had been three days, "Haan chalo", she wrapped Murtasim’s shawl around herself, and went to the graveyard along with her two kids.

She walked through the silent cemetery, each step heavy with memories. The chill of the evening air seemed to seep into her bones, but it was nothing compared to the emptiness she felt. She paused at his grave, her fingers brushing over his name etched into the stone as if her touch could somehow reach him.

She kneeled beside the grave, her eyes filled with unshed tears, the ache in her chest tightening. Her voice, barely a whisper, trembled. "Murtasim... it’s strange, isn’t it? I never thought I’d be here like this, talking to a stone when I still remember your laugh, your voice... everything."

She closed her eyes, letting her head fall forward, and suddenly, in her mind's eye, she could see him sitting beside her, his familiar smile soft yet distant.

"Kabhi socha nahi tha ke meri yaadon mein tum aanson bahaogi," he murmured gently, as if he were right there. His gaze was tender, full of an understanding that had always been his strength. "Mujhe yaad karke aise tootne ki zaroorat nahi, tum to meri himmatwali Meerab thi, yaad hai?"

Her heart felt like it might shatter as she imagined his hand reaching out to wipe away her tears. But when she opened her eyes, it was only the cold wind that touched her face.

"Himmat khatam horahi meri... yaqeen nhi hora ke tum mere saath nhi ho. Without you, I feel lost, Murtasim. I try to be strong for our children, but every moment without you is a reminder of what I’ve lost.”

As if in response, the wind rustled through the trees, carrying the faintest whisper of his love.

She could almost feel his presence enveloping her, a warm embrace that made her heart swell and ache simultaneously. But the reality of the empty grave before her brought her crashing back down. She was alone

“Murtasim,” she choked out, her voice breaking as she pressed her forehead to the cool earth. “I wish I could turn back time, and relive the moments again. It’s so hard to breathe without you.”

__

A/n: I am writing the khet scene next🥲 like Meerab I also wanted to relive the nostalgia of Meerasim. Any suggestions?