"Sahib," Payam brought him out of his thoughts. Murtasim realized his top two buttons were open and that he had stopped the young girl from speaking. She was blushing, looking at her foot. His chest was visible, and he was in his casuals trying to be comfortable. Before this, he had always allowed Payam to enter without any qualms, but now he understood how it could be a problem.

"Bakhtu," he called out his name while clicking his pen repeatedly, he buttoned up the first buttons whilst he did that. He didn't want the young girl to feel uncomfortable, so he called the old man. As the old man entered, Murtasim nodded at him to stand at the door.

"Payam, kaho kya kehna tha?" The young girl who was gazing at him broke out of her stupor, feeling ashamed by her own gaze. Payam had never come across a man as eccentric as him. He was manly, soft-spoken, and loved her madam with all his heart.

Men like Murtasim no longer existed.

Men who loved a woman with such intensity that they left their own home so their beloved could be comfortable. Men who were willing to watch their beloved get engaged to other men so as to not hurt his mother. A man who was the perfect son and a lover; where could she find a Murtasim for herself?

His 'stache made him much more attractive. He was a different specimen.

"Payam?" Murtasim broke her out of her daydreaming once again. She stumbled and quickly recovered.

"This is Madam's diary." Murtasim's eyes lightened up as he lit up like a kid and saw the pictures inside confirming it. He nodded his head and leaned back on the chair; Payam ogled him for every second.

Why wasn't he wearing a sweater? She wondered.

Murtasim gave her the side eye. "Anything else?" Payam shook her head and rushed out of the room with a blush on her face. She was extremely happy for her madam and wished for her madam to realize her feelings for Khan.

___

Under the celestial theater of the night, the stars, like shimmering diamonds, adorned the canvas of the sky, twinkling in silent harmony. The moon, a luminescent pearl, hung aloft, casting its ethereal glow upon the world below, painting everything in a silvery sheen. Murtasim Khan, dressed in his azure suit, reclined amidst the dew-kissed grass, his gaze fixed upon the enigmatic lunar orb, pondering whether his beloved, Meerab, shared this nocturnal contemplation.

In the quietude of the night, memories swirled within him, weaving a tapestry of longing and forbidden desires. He chuckled softly, her name, "Meerab," a whisper that echoed in his mind. Behind her crimson mask, he had glimpsed her unmistakable essence—her eyes, her smile, her voice. Yet, his promise to his mother and disguise had forced him to masquerade as a stranger, concealing his profound affection for Meerab.

Approaching her with an air of casual unfamiliarity, he harbored a wishful hope that she wouldn't recognize him, that his guise would deceive her. There was look of recognition in her eyes as she gazed at him, but then it vanished when they danced. 

Engaging in a masquerade, he led her to dance, feeling her tremors within his embrace, her breath a delicate whisper against his skin. His yearning to confess, to escape with her, was palpable, but the weight of obligation held him captive.

As he escorted her back and offered a libation, feigning ignorance of her identity, he witnessed her hesitation, a silent struggle. "'Saba'.., really Meerab?" he wanted to jest. Yet, when he drew her closer, jesting faded into the embrace, lost within the kiss. Their touch ignited an ardent longing, an unspoken truth longing to be revealed.

Closing his eyes, he hummed a melody reminiscent of Meerab's voice, evoking the poolside memories of her serene presence.

Now, shedding his garments, he approached her, captivated by her allure. In the black dress, she radiated a celestial elegance, her dark hair contrasting against her aura. The moon's luminance seemed to pale in comparison to her radiance, a goddess amidst the earthly realm. He was drawn to her, captivated by every subtle detail.

In this intimate moment, the moon's gentle illumination mirrored Meerab's grace, both celestial entities captivating him with their irresistible charm. She, with her frizzy hair and enigmatic allure, stood before him. The urge to claim her lips surged within him as he shed his layers, every fiber of his being yearning to embrace her in the moonlit shadow.

He had jumped into the water, holding his breath underwater for a few seconds before coming out. During that, Meerab was splashed with water, he was about to apologise, but then he saw the look in her eyes. She was admiring his body. Murtasim wished Meerab had the guts to actually jump in the water and kiss him again.

But Meerab, being Meerab, had engaged in another verbal fight with him. And at last had broken his heart, "Yes I am in love".

With that idiot?

That fiance of hers had abandoned her at his own party. How could he? How could any of his lame guests be more important than Meerab?

Murtasim was at the airport when Payam had informed him about the masquerade. His bags were already checked in, but Murtasim had run out of the boarding gates, knowing nothing was more important than Meerab.

When he had read her diary, the first entry was the words she had uttered to him in her drunked stupour.

I want to fall in love with a stranger. A man I had never known about, someone who is chosen by me, not Maa Begum. I don't care what he does, I don't care if he is rich or poor. I want to fall in love with this man who makes me feel beautiful. I want to fall in love with a man who loves me more than any had men had dared to love a woman. A man who is ready to sacrifice his wealth for me, a man who is ready to wait for me years. A man who is just mine, who doesn't think about anyone other than me. A man who considers me his world. 

A man like him, does he even exist? One who willingly offers the wealth of his heart, who patiently waits through the passage of time, solely for the chance to claim my affection? A man whose world revolves around the essence of my being, a devotion so pure and unwavering.

Can a man like him even exist?

Murtasim had wanted to fulfil all her wishes, so that day he danced to her tunes. He twirled her around, and he saw the love in her eyes starting to bloom. He kissed her throughly, unable to control his love for her. It was overwhelming.

Something wasn't adding up. How could Meerab love her fiance when all she ever wanted was true love? Murtasim had created a man of her dreams, and she still loves that Yusuf.

He saw the diary laying on the table and decided to read it further.

___