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As I fixated on the TV screen, the couple's approach felt like a gentle mockery, their steps echoing a harmony absent from my world. Fluttering butterflies seemed to celebrate a love I yearned for but never knew. Their smiles, radiant with affection, painted a stark contrast to the void within me.

My reflection mocked me, revealing hollow eyes devoid of such warmth. Their shared gaze held more love than I ever experienced, prompting a whirlwind of envy and longing within.

Memories surged, unearthing the echoes of that childhood injury blamed on Murtasim. Maa Begum's wrath spared no one, her anger predicting a lifetime of scars. Yet, despite my protests and his denials, the blame fell on him. His whispered disdain, "I hate her, when will she disappear," pierced deeper than any wound, shredding the frailty of my heart.

Maa Begum's concerns revolved solely around appearance, Shahanwaz Khan saw me as a burden, and Murtasim harbored nothing but resentment. Their indifference, a relentless reminder of the loveless void that engulfed me.

Longing consumed my being, yearning for the parental love others took for granted, dreaming of a hero's shield to protect and cherish me. Yet, witnessing friends' heartbreaks shattered those dreams, leaving behind an ache for enduring commitment, for a love that transcends fleeting moments.

I transformed myself, molding into Maa Begum's image, hoping for acceptance and affection. Her declaration of Murtasim as my brother felt like another layer of deception I had to endure, hiding the desire for a love that eluded me.

The ache persisted, the longing for someone who would embrace me wholly, someone who listened, held me close in moments of despair. From a rebellious child seeking love to a soul craving acceptance, I changed for love and approval, the emptiness within me a constant companion.

"Meerab, I love you," the towering figure professed, his brown eyes mirroring an intensity akin to the heroes in films. He handed me a drink, setting a fluttering sensation in my stomach. His touch, although blurry in my mind, hinted at an embrace, something I craved for so long. In that moment, being held felt special.

As he whispered, "Do you want to be my girlfriend?" I hesitated. Loneliness and emotions overwhelmed me, so I agreed, reveling in the promises and sweet words he whispered. My heart danced, my mind stopped.

Suddenly, Murtasim intervened. Why was he here? I believed he despised me. Yet, I understood; I was his responsibility, and that's why he sought me out. Wanting him to leave, I lied, claiming the nameless guy as my boyfriend. I felt like a burden on someone else's shoulders, freeing Murtasim from his duty.

In a drunken stupor, I revealed my desire for freedom, for euphoric experiences. I craved kisses, love. But amidst it all, what I truly yearned for was someone's genuine love. Once again, Murtasim betrayed my trust by snitching on me.

Realization struck hard-I needed to change. My persona, my behavior, perhaps they rendered me unlovable. So, I transformed into the epitome of an ideal woman, mimicking Maa Begum. She wanted me to set an example, so I complied with everything. Maybe then, she'd finally look at me with pride and affirm, "Meerab, you are just like me."

---

Murtasim meticulously combed through the accounts, each line on the page mirroring the weight of his responsibilities. The door's creak signaled Maa Begum's entrance, drawing his gaze upward to meet his mother's tired yet determined countenance, her face etched with lines that spoke volumes of her inner turmoil.

"Phir tum jaa rahey ho?"

"Ji," he responded wearily to her query, the fatigue apparent in his voice.

"Why?" Murtasim met his mother's gaze squarely, challenging her with his concern, "Maa, you're not handling things right with Meerab. She's just sixteen. Why rush her into marriage?"

A distant, wistful expression lingered on Maa Begum's face as she sighed, her thoughts wandering to an uncertain future, "I want her to find happiness before it becomes too late."

"But Maa, there's still time... Hashim was ten years older than her. A whole decade," he pointed out, attempting to reason with her.

"Such good matches don't come along often."

"Is there something lacking in Meerab that she won't find a match?" Murtasim probed further.

"She's an orphan. Without parents. Girls like that don't find good matches..." Her voice trailed off, her distant gaze fixed on societal norms and prejudices.

"But Maa, you were an orphan too, yet Grandpa married you to his favorite son," Murtasim gently reminded her.

"Murtasim, don't argue with me. I'm your mother, and I believe Meerab shouldn't marry within the family. She deserves to marry someone powerful, someone who can offer her a throne to rule," she insisted with maternal conviction.

"Yes, she should, and she will. But it's too early for that. She's just 16; she has her own preferences too," he reasoned, trying to balance tradition with Meerab's autonomy.

"Exactly! So where's the force in this? I asked her; I requested the union based on her consent. But Murtasim, you influenced her decision. She refused after the engagement, saying, 'If Murtasim doesn't approve, I won't proceed with this engagement,'" Maa Begum revealed.

His heart raced at the revelation.

After Maa Begum leaves he thinks back to the time he used to sit in the room waiting for Meerab. She was a brat but a cute one.

He remembered one such incident as a kid, when Meerab was getting a vaccine.

Meerab was crying and screaming, trying to break free from the doctor's hold, she was seven and he was ten. He couldn't witness her cry, so he offered his hand, "Bite on this if it pains", she looked at him teary eyed.

"Wouldn't it pain you?" The young girl asked, Murtasim smiled looking at her innocent eyes, "No", so she took his hand and bit harder than he had expected. His eyes teared up and he controlled a sob regretting his decision. That left a scar on his finger, she had bit hard.

"I want to feel alive, Murtasim! I want to fall in love, kiss a guy, feel the rush of my teenage years before you guys decide to marry me off!"

She had said and Murtasim realised maybe she was right.

Her words echoed in his mind, resonating with a newfound realization. She wanted to experience life on her terms. As she drifted to sleep, Murtasim pondered her desires and his role in her life.

But soon after, he noticed a shift in Meerab; she transformed into Maa Begum's shadow, her once vibrant spirit dimmed.He questioned what had changed. She used to provoke him, challenge him, yet now, she mirrored the maturity of his mother.

Something had extinguished the fire in her, leaving Murtasim bewildered and longing for her lively presence.

Then, she unexpectedly accepted the engagement proposal from that insipid man, Hashim. Murtasim, digging into Hashim's background, uncovered deceit. Hashim wasn't involved in any of the charitable endeavors he claimed. Meerab's acceptance of Hashim, a timid individual lacking in backbone, puzzled Murtasim deeply. So he confronted her, questioning her choice and he questioned, "Do you love him?"

For agonizing seconds, she confessed that while she didn't love Hashim, she desired to leave the house and him, evoking a storm of emotions within Murtasim.

He realised his presence was suffocating Meerab, maybe it was because of his actions, the young lively girl turned into a dull version of herself. His heart broke, and the guilt rose in his heart.

So he decided to leave the house, atleast she would remain under his guard. He packed his bags, and then as he stood at the gate he glanced up and saw her shadow disappearing making a smile curve at his lips.

His diary entry that day was strange...

Her smile, so pretty, but it felt all wrong when it was directed at him. How could she choose that guy, that doctor? He was nothing next to her, just a joke. How dare he slide that ring on her finger? It boiled my blood. I got all mixed up inside, didn't understand what I was feeling. I had to hide it 'cause scaring her away wasn't what I wanted. I held my tongue, not wanting to yell at her. But then it hit me hard: she's only for me.

And how dare she address me as her brother...

----

Murtasim left, for last three years Meerab had ignored him. But now, for some reason, she missed his presence. It had been weeks, and she felt lonely. Meerab tried to immerse herself in her studies when there was a knock on her door, "Come in," she said while gazing at the door.

A young woman entered, she looked around her room and then smiled.

"From today, I will look after you," the woman said in an excited voice, making Meerab raise her brow.

"What do you mean? I didn't ask for a maid, "Meerab replied, closing her book and eyeing the maid.

The maid folded her hands together and replied, "Actually recently my father passed away, I had nobody and I encountered Khan on the way. He told me that I can work in the mansion, and look after you".

Meerab didn't need a maid, but she couldn't send this poor girl away so she nodded.

"Alright. What's your name?"

The girl replied too eagerly, "Payam".

"That's a nice name, my name is -", she cut her off.

"Meerab, sir told me, it means the flower of paradise." Why would Murtasim share the meaning of her name with a random woman.

She looked at Meerab's expression and added, "I meant sir told me your name was Meerab. I added the meaning. "

She was friendly and bubbly, like Meerab used to be a few years ago, "Payam... doesn't it mean message?"

The girl got a little flustered and nodded. She was a sweet girl, and Meerab enjoyed her company. Maybe this was what she needed all along, someone's company.

---

"Sir Maa Begum introduced another man to ma'am", Murtasim who was going through his work, looked up and asked in a serious tone as his blazed with red.

His mother didn't heed his words.

"What's his name? Where does he work?"

"His name is Sadiq, he is a lawyer, he seemed quite fond of ma'am, and she seemed to reciprocate his feelings," Payam cautiously began, her voice laced with apprehension.

Murtasim's countenance darkened as he absorbed Payam's account. His brows furrowed in a mixture of concern and frustration. "What exactly did they talk about?" he inquired sharply.

"They were discussing their aspirations, sir. Meerab shared her thoughts about life and her desires for the future. Sadiq seemed genuinely interested in her feelings," Payam recounted, treading carefully with her words.

Murtasim's jaw tightened, a wave of conflicting emotions surging within him. The protective instinct for Meerab collided with a sense of powerlessness. "And what else? Did he mention any intentions?" he pressed further, his voice strained.

"Yes, sir. He mentioned a poem he wrote for her, something about making her smile," Payam hesitated, realizing the weight of her words.

Murtasim's hands clenched into fists, his eyes flashing with an unsettling mix of anger and helplessness. "Thank you, Payam," he managed to say through gritted teeth, dismissing her with a terse nod.

Left alone with his turbulent thoughts, Murtasim's emotions churned within him. The realization that Meerab was growing closer to someone outside his influence unsettled him deeply. His protective instincts surged, clouding his judgment as he grappled with conflicting emotions-love, concern, and possessiveness.

Driven by a surge of protective instinct, Murtasim, unable to bear the thought of Meerab getting involved with someone outside his control, made an impulsive decision. He marched to Sadiq's office the next day, his demeanor steely and determined.

Confronting Sadiq, Murtasim's words, laden with a veiled threat, shook the lawyer. His intention was not to cause harm but to protect Meerab, albeit in an extreme manner. "How old is this law firm?" Murtasim inquired with calculated menace.

Sadiq replied nervously, "Twenty."

"Pity it won't last long without you alive," Murtasim uttered, his words a menacing warning intended to frighten Sadiq. Realizing the gravity of the situation, Sadiq understood the underlying message and removed the ring Meerab had given him.

However, Murtasim's instructions didn't end there. "Return this to Meerab and tell her, you love someone else," he commanded, a mix of protectiveness and internal turmoil clouding his actions.

At night, when Murtasim laid down on the bed, he wondered what poem the lawyer wrote for her. Murtasim convinced himself that if Sadiq truly loved Meerab, he would have been willing to make sacrifices.

He remembered a poem he had read sometime ago, where a woman had sacrificed the crown over the man she loved. She had truly loved him.

The lawyer's attachment to his law firm became, in Murtasim's eyes, a gauge of his commitment-or lack thereof-to Meerab.This reassurance, however, was tinged with a sense of unease and inner conflict.

Doubt lingered in the depths of his mind, a nagging uncertainty about the righteousness of his actions. As much as he convinced himself of his protective stance, a gnawing worry persisted-had he overstepped the bounds in his efforts to safeguard Meerab?

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