"You went out without my permission, Meerab!" Maa Begum's voice was a mix of disappointment and restrained anger.

I bit my lip, my fists clenched at my sides, masking the storm brewing within me. "What's the big deal? It was just a party," I retorted, my voice laced with defiance.

Maa Begum's eyes narrowed, her tone unforgiving. "You know our traditions. You're not allowed to just do as you please."

Fury surged within me, but beneath it, a deep-seated hurt festered. "Your traditions suffocate me!" I snapped, my voice cracking with pent-up emotion.

Her words stung, the threat looming heavily in the air. "Remember, you'll be married off soon. You must learn your place."

The weight of her words crushed me, intensifying the brewing resentment I held toward Murtasim for betraying my trust. I fought back the tears, clenching my jaw to hold in the cry that threatened to escape. My heart brimmed with a seething hatred for Murtasim, the one I thought was family.

As Maa Begum's words echoed, a rebellious fire ignited within me. A few years ago something similar had happened and it had me realise my place in this household. That was the first time I had felt betrayed by Murtasim.

For the younger me, Murtasim,  was the unwitting target of my antics. His composed demeanour and studious habits seemed like the perfect canvas for my mischievous strokes. I couldn't resist the temptation to disrupt his structured world, finding amusement in the wrinkles of irritation that crossed his usually composed face.

I didn't quite understand why irritating Murtasim felt so satisfying, but there was an undeniable thrill in seeing his exasperated reactions.

In my mind, Murtasim was the epitome of rules and order—someone whose structured life was just begging to be rattled. His attempts to scold me or set boundaries only added to the allure of mischief, sparking a rebellious streak within me.

I didn't hate Murtasim; in fact, I found his seriousness amusing. His reactions were like a game to me—a challenge to see how far I could push before he cracked.

The day had started like any other, the air thick with tension that seemed to cling to the walls. I watched Murtasim enter his father's study, hoping for a rare moment of acknowledgement or perhaps a fleeting connection. But as always, the air crackled with an invisible tension, leaving me standing on the periphery of their world, an outsider.

I had crafted a paper plane, with a hopeful smile, I approached the study, eager to share this small offering of goodwill for peace. But their voices, harsh and full of disdain, pierced through the door like shards of glass.

"I hate Meerab! She's annoying. She's always in the way," Murtasim's words reverberated through the corridor, each syllable like a dagger to my heart.

I dropped the paper plane, my smile fading into a silent ache, and retreated, seeking refuge behind the door. Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision as I listened, unseen, to their conversation.

"She isn't even your daughter, but you love her more than me".

Shahanwaz Khan's voice, a mix of softness and indifference, delivered a truth that shattered my fragile hopes. " I love you more."

Murtasim's incredulous voice echoed, a mix of anger and desperation. "Then why do you treat her so nicely? Why never a scolding, not even a hint of annoyance?"

"Because she isn't my daughter," came the stoic reply.

"My brother's last wish burdens me with guilt. She is my responsibility, and yours too. You are my son, right? Look after her," Shahanwaz Khan's words held a weighty solemnity.

I was a burden..

And Murtasim hated me..

The weight of their conversation pressed upon me, tears streaming down my cheeks, as I heard Murtasim's anguished plea, and then felt his arms wrap around our father in a rare display of affection and unity.

That summer changed everything.

The realization of my status in the household, the searing pain of rejection, and the burden of being a mere obligation weighed heavily on my young shoulders. The tears I shed that day were not just for the hurtful words I overheard but for the shattered innocence and the dawning realization that my place in this world would forever be defined by the whims of others. I stopped bothering Murtasim with my presence, and I evaded his shadow.

----


Years passed, and now Meerab was 16. Three years made a huge difference in their lives, Meerab got little studious and interested in school more than ever. She started wearing large spectacles and going to study sessions instead of parties.

Murtasim wondered was this the same girl who wanted to enjoy her life, party, and fall in love?

Or maybe that was a drunken confession. After that day, she avoided him like a plague. Meerab got more sophisticated. But she barely talked to him. Her answers were always curt, and when she looked at him, she would often roll her eyes.

The innocent looking girl bloosomed into a beauty, and she got many proposals. But Maa Begum didn't feel any of them were appropriate for her.

Today the dinner table was adorned with simplicity, a reflection of the genteel atmosphere within the household. Maa Begum sat at the head, her demeanor exuding a quiet strength, while Meerab occupied a seat opposite her, her eyes wandering to the serene garden outside, a place of solace in structured conversations.

A hushed calm enveloped the room, interrupted intermittently by the gentle clinking of cutlery. Maa Begum, with a gentle smile, broke the tranquility. "Meerab, dear, I've received another marriage proposal for you."

Meerab's gaze met her's, a glint of curiosity in her eyes as she replied, "Oh? Please do share the details."

With a delicate motion, Maa Begum produced an envelope, its elegant seal securing the contents. "This proposal hails from a respectable family. The gentleman is of sound standing and carries a noble profession."

Meerab accepted the envelope with grace, her slender fingers unfolding its contents—a photo capturing the likeness of the gentleman within.

"He seems amiable," Meerab remarked, her tone maintaining a poised indifference.

"Indeed," concurred Maa Begum, her voice tinged with anticipation. "He is a doctor, esteemed within his field."

The mention of his profession sparked a subtle interest in Meerab's eyes. "A doctor—a noble vocation indeed."

Amidst the exchange, Murtasim, seated nearby, remained a quiet observer. The revelation of the gentleman's profession seemed to evoke a subtle reaction—an imperceptible tension in his demeanour.

"I trust his accomplishments will meet our expectations," Maa Begum continued, her gaze alternating between Meerab and the silent presence of Murtasim.

Meerab nodded in acknowledgement. "Certainly, his achievements are admirable."

The two woman had the same poise and character, Meerab had turned into a replica of Maa Begum in the last few years.

The evening progressed, conversations drifting to lighter subjects, yet an unspoken conversation lingered— woven through shared glances between Meerab and Murtasim.

Then came their first meeting, in a vibrant café, Meerab sat, anticipation tingling in the air as she awaited her acquaintance.

As she settled, a figure approached with a warm smile, his eyes kind, and a genuine aura that spoke volumes. "Hello, I'm Hashim," he greeted, extending a hand in welcome.

"Meerab," she replied, reciprocating the gesture with a gentle handshake.

Their conversation flowed effortlessly, like a tranquil stream finding its course. Hashim's sincerity and gentle words wove a tapestry of captivating dialogue. "I've always dreamt of making a difference, you know? Being part of something bigger than myself," he shared, his eyes reflecting a fervor for change.

Meerab leaned in, her interest piqued. "That's fascinating. What drives you?"

Hashim's eyes gleamed with passion as he spoke of his involvement in various NGOs. "It's about lending a helping hand where it's needed most. Bringing smiles to faces that long for hope."

His sincerity resonated deeply within Meerab's heart. "It's admirable how involved you are. It's not common to meet someone so dedicated."

A tender smile graced Hashim's face. "I believe in lending my voice to causes that truly matter. Changing lives, one step at a time."

Their conversation wove through anecdotes and shared interests, each dialogue a testament to Hashim's genuine character. "And you, Meerab? What fuels your spirit?" he inquired with a gentle curiosity.

Meerab paused, her eyes reflecting a blend of introspection and admiration. "I find solace in the quiet moments, the simple joys of life. But above all, I cherish the essence of humanity—the kindness that binds us all."

Their exchange continued, Hashim's words painting a portrait of a man committed to uplifting others.

By the end of their conversation, it was clear to Meerab that Hashim was not just a nice guy; he was a beacon of sincerity and kindness in a world longing for both.

Amidst the serenity of a blossoming garden, enveloped by the fragrance of blossoms dancing on the breeze, Maa Begum and Meerab sat, discussing the proposal that had woven itself into their lives.

" I've spent time with Hashim, and there's a genuineness about him that I like," Meerab expressed, her voice laced with a blend of assurance and admiration.

Maa Begum, her countenance serene yet deeply contemplative, regarded her daughter with a motherly gaze. "He seems a man of character and sincerity. And he comes from a respectable family."

A gentle smile graced Meerab's lips, a reflection of the contentment that had taken root within her heart. "That's true he seems like a kind man."

"We shall proceed," Maa Begum finally declared, her voice firm, yet tinged with a quiet joy. "An engagement shall be arranged."

___



After a month, the engagement ceremony unfolded in the garden's serene embrace, Murtasim observed from a distance. His eyes, once filled with warmth for Meerab, now harbored a silent storm.

As Meerab, resplendent like an angel, gracefully slipped the ring onto Hashim's finger, a pang of conflicting emotions surged within Murtasim. His gaze lingered upon the scene, watching the union he couldn't help but feel was too premature.

Her introduction of him as her brother to the guests elicited a tumultuous wave of emotions. Murtasim's blood simmered as he witnessed the event. He lit a cigarette, observing with an air of detachment as the engagement progressed.

"Why so early?" Murtasim found himself voicing the unspoken question, addressing Maa Begum after the ceremony had concluded, a mixture of concern and frustration lacing his tone.

Maa Begum regarded him with a gentle yet firm expression. "It's time for Meerab to step into this phase of her life."

Later, as the garden quieted, Murtasim approached Meerab, a question burning in his mind. "Aren't you too young for this, Meerab?"

Meerab, with a serene smile adorning her face, replied softly, "It's the way things are, Murtasim. Eventually, I would step into this phase, wouldn't I?"

Murtasim's heart was heavy, "No things can't be the way they are if you don't want them to be...", he spoke out, dropping the cigarette on the ground and stepping on it.

Meerab's eyes widened as he asked her pulling her closer by her wrist, "You fell in love or what?", she gulped and shook her head. His tone was off, "Do you dislike him?" Meerab asked, realizing that maybe this induced the reaction.

"Ofcourse I do, he seemed like a wuss", he said his eyes gazing at her, but she glared at him.

"Wuss? You don't know him, that man works for seventeen NGOs-", he cut her off.

"Meerab you know there are two types of men, men who talk and others who actually do the work. And Hashim is probably the first one", she sighed tiredly and turned around to leave when he stopped her.

"What's so special about him? You are only sixteen, why are you destroying your life?" Meerab took a deep breath and stalked closer to him and pointed to his chest.

"Because I want to stay far away from this house and you," she said the words she wanted to utter for the last few years. Her eyes were teary as she looked into his eyes that looked heartbroken, "It's about me then".

He said softly then looked at his shoes, "I will leave if you want me to, but this marriage isn't happening", he said in an authorative tone walking to the gate.

"And I am not your brother"

____