It was midnight and Miraal was thirsty, she turned towards Abraar. His arm, warm and protective, encircled her waist, pulling her close in slumber's embrace. Softly withdrawing from his grasp, her cheeks flushed as she gently rested his arm on his chest. A tender kiss graced his cheek, her eyes tracing his features in the obscurity of the night. His tousled hair, a testament to their shared intimacy, and his rugged chest, evoked feelings that stirred her deeply. Clad in his shirt, which reached her knees and enveloped her, she rolled up the sleeves, her fingers grazing the fabric, each touch reigniting the passion they shared. She rolled it up and tiptoed out of the room and downstairs to the kitchen, rolling her hair into a bun she filled the jug to carry upstairs.

Miraal was filling the water when she heard a sound, her eyes darted around to find the source of sudden movement. It was of footsteps, Miraal's breath got caught in her throat as she closed the tap and decided to run upstairs but then she finds a sillhoutte outside the kitchen window.

Miraal screamed in fright backing away, her fingers shiver as she sees the sillhoute disappear. It was midnight Miraal was frightened so she ran out of the kitchen. She reached her room and locked the door, placing her hand on her beating heart.

"Miraal"

It startled her, she covered her face and then realized it was her husband's voice. She peeked from between her fingers, and found Abraar standing there his arms crossed across his chest.

"Kya hua darr gayi?"

She held his arm and pointed downstairs, "Maine kuch awaaze suni neechey, koi hai waha".

Her eyes were scared as she explained it to him, his eyebrows creased as he looked at the door lost in thought. "Mai dekhta hu"

He said and picked up his gun from the drawer, as Miraal followed him.

"Tum yahi raho"

"Nahi mujhe kamre m darr lagega"

He sighed in frustration and forwarded
his hand, she placed her hand in his and followed him downstairs. He asked her to duck down as he walked downstairs and checked out the entire hall. And the kitchen, there seemed to be nobody, because of the silence Miraal called his name, "Ab-raar".

His lips curl up, mischievousness shining in his eyes as he called out her name, " Bachao Miraal"

He hid behind the kitchen door, he heard footsteps as she called out his name, "Abraar?" There was fear evident in her voice, the kitchen's threshold couldn't conceal her form, a silhouette against the dim light, the table lamp gripped with determination. Shadows danced upon her features as she called out his name, fear lacing each syllable. In her grip, the table lamp poised as a weapon, ready to strike down any adversary.

In the shrouded theater of the night, she moved with resolve, her intent clear. But his arms encircled her, a dance of familiarity and affection, as he seized the lamp and the battle became an embrace. The lamp's light, fractured and ethereal, cast shadows that danced upon them, their figures a tableau of desire and vulnerability.

In the darkness she was about to hit him when he caught hold of her hand and she fought with him for the table lamp thinking he was the intruder.

"Yaar mai hu", he clarified halting her struggle, her eyes widened as she dropped the table lamp and hugged him.

Her hands pulled him closer as she tried to feel around for any damage, " Kidhar hai woh?"

She asked tentatively still believing there was an intruder, "Kon?" Abraar asked as he held her hand, rubbing it to calm her down. "Wahi chor"

He laughed and shook his head, "Koi nahi tha, mai mazak karrha tha tumhare saath", he confessed making her eyes widen. She picked up the lamp shade again, her lips pursed as she shouted, "Aapka dimaag kharab hai kya? Meri jaan nikal rahi thi yaha aur apko mazak sujha hai!"

Her indignation was almost endearing, a spark that illuminated their connection.

But his focus was elsewhere, his gaze intent upon her disheveled appearance, his desires whispering beneath his thoughts. With his shirt embracing her, a vision of vulnerability and desire, her features disarrayed in the aftermath of her fear, she embodied a seductive vulnerability that ignited the flames of his longing.

Her foot stamped in defiance, the embodiment of her frustration, but his pursuit was swift, his arms enveloping her once again. From anger to affection, their dance swung, his whispered words softening her stance. "Your anger is a captivating sight," he mused, his voice a velvety caress that wrapped around her.

"Release me," her demand carried an edge, a facade of resistance masking the allure of his touch. His kiss, an intimate press upon her head, melted her resolve, infusing her with a warmth that quelled her frustration. "Abraar, if you dare do this again... I may just take your life."

The threat, though delivered with feigned ferocity, was tinged with a laughter that danced upon her lips. His laughter, a harmonious resonance, joined the melody, a duet of shared amusement and affection. With a gentle nod, he conceded, his understanding a bridge between their worlds. The storm of her anger subsided, replaced by the calm of his touch, as he wrapped his shawl around her, an act of protection and tenderness intertwined.

____

"Miraal bibi ka pata chal gaya hai unko", Bakhtu shared, he was looking at Abraar contemplating what his next move would be. Abraar was in love, it wasn't even love anymore, it was obsession. His eyes followed her every move, her presence calmed him and her smile brightened his world.

He was crazy for her, Bakhtu wondered would they still continue with the same plan. Abraar was a strong man, an ambitious feudal lord, would he sacrifice his love?

Abraar was lost in his own thoughts when Bakhtu continued, " They will come again..."

His eyes went to the balcony where Miraal sat, her face covered by the book in her hand. Feeling his eyes on her she lowered it and waved at him, the balcony was on the second floor so he was unable to decipher her words but she was gesturing him to come upstairs, he guessed atleast.

Miraal stood up and leaned on the railing, gazing at him. Her eyes followed him everyone he went, filled with love and tenderness.

Abraar knew there was no woman who could love him as much as she did, she was naive, passionate and silly, despite being scared of darkness she ran to defend him.

She didn't care for her own safety, her love was selfless. Miraal... His wife, his Khaani didn't deserve this betrayal.

"Aaney do unko, dekh lenge", he replied his voice tinged with determination as he made up his mind.

"Khan are we going with the original plan?" Bakhtu asked his eyes curious as they drifted between the two lovers locked in an eye contact, one's eyes filled with happiness while other's lost.

Abraar was gazing at the beautiful woman finally realising, feeling what thousands of kings faced in history. Men who were ready to sacrifice their kingdom, themselves over a woman. They didn't care about the world, their purpose to live and rule were blinded by those beautiful enchantress.

If those beautiful woman had launched thousand of missiles through lands and burnt them then Miraal's smile had let him live thousand lifetimes of love and sorrow. She ruled over his heart, his body and mind, her presence made him tremble. How could he let go of someone so precious to him?

He was reluctant to part with her, Abraar wanted to live with her till death. Till their hairs turned gray, he couldn't bear the thought of losing her, of her hating him.

Revenge or her? He chose her.

"Haan plan wahi hai magar Miraal ke bajaye mai qurbani dunga", he said his shoulders squared.

He would destroy the Mir tribe and the branches of MIE in his city.

But he wouldn't use her as a bait anymore, Bakhtu's eyes were teary as he placed his hand on Abraar's shoulder for support, "Mai aapke saath hu...".

Abraar took his hand and hugged the old man who had been with him since he was a kid. He was his family, " Bakhtu ye jung m akele ladunga magar... Mai bas chahta hu ke tum Miraal ka dhyaan rakho agar mai wapas nahi lauta".

He would fulfil his father's dying wish by sacrificing himself, before Miraal he had no life. He didn't know how to live or laugh, he had never expressed himself. But within a month, it felt as if he had lived an entire lifetime, he found his peace. And he was ready to die if it meant protecting her.

____