Meerab, sensing the sudden shift in attention, looked up, her smile faltering slightly. She exchanged a glance with Murtasim, who was standing just a few feet behind Mrs. Nasreen, shaking his head frantically. She furrowed her brow in confusion, wondering what had gotten into him.
Mrs. Nasreen clapped her hands together, her voice filled with joy. “I would like to formally ask for Meerab’s hand in marriage—for my son!”
There was a deafening silence.
Murtasim’s heart stopped. He felt the world tilt on its axis as the words echoed in his head. Mrs. Nasreen’s son? Marriage? What? He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out.
Anwar, who had been sipping tea, choked and spluttered, causing Mariyam to nearly drop her cup. Maa Begum’s usually composed face twitched in surprise, while Meerab sat frozen, her eyes wide with shock.
“WHAT?!” Meerab gasped, standing up abruptly, her gaze darting between Murtasim and Mrs. Nasreen. “Excuse me? What did you just say?”
Mrs. Nasreen, misinterpreting Meerab’s reaction as one of modesty, giggled. “Oh, dear, don’t be shy! Murtasim has already told me all about you.” She turned to Murtasim with a wink. “He’s such a protective older brother, looking out for your best interests.”
Murtasim, feeling his soul leave his body, tried to intervene. “No, no, no! You’re misunderstanding, I’m not—”
Mrs. Nasreen, however, was unstoppable. “It’s settled! I’ll bring my son over tomorrow for a formal meeting. Oh, he’s such a fine young man. You two will make a wonderful couple.”
Meerab’s face flushed with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. “WHAT?! I’m already married!” she exclaimed, glaring at Murtasim as if this were somehow his fault.
Murtasim, who had finally found his voice, raised both hands in surrender. “She’s married to me! I’m her husband!”
The room went eerily quiet once again, except for Anwar, who let out a strangled cough, clearly trying to suppress his laughter. Mariyam’s eyes darted between Murtasim and Meerab, her lips twitching as she struggled to contain her amusement.
Mrs. Nasreen’s face fell, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “Wait… what? You’re her husband? But I thought…” She trailed off, clearly trying to process this new information.
Murtasim sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yes, I’m her husband. Not her brother. Her husband,” he repeated, emphasizing the word as if to hammer it into her brain.
Mrs. Nasreen’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. “Oh… OH!” She gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth. “But you—oh dear, this is terribly awkward.” She fanned herself, her face turning bright red. “I just assumed, you know, with the way you two were sitting so far apart… I thought—”
“I don’t know what you thought,” Meerab interrupted, crossing her arms, her eyes still shooting daggers at Murtasim. “But yes, we’re married. To each other. Not anyone else.”
Mrs. Nasreen looked as though she wanted the earth to swallow her whole. “I… I see. Well, this is awkward,” she mumbled, fidgeting with the edge of her sari. “I’ll just… take my leave then. So sorry for the misunderstanding!” And with that, she quickly scurried out of the room, leaving an awkward silence in her wake.
The moment she was gone, Mariyam let out a loud snort, unable to hold back her laughter any longer. “Oh my God, bhai! She thought you were Meerab bhabhi’s brother! I can’t—this is too much!” She clutched her stomach, doubling over with laughter.
Anwar, too, was shaking with barely contained mirth, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “That was… something,” he managed to say between chuckles.
Maa Begum, though usually composed and dignified, allowed herself a small smile, though her eyes flickered with disapproval toward Murtasim and Meerab for not sitting together as a married couple.
Murtasim, still reeling from the mortifying exchange, turned to Meerab, who was glaring at him with her arms crossed. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?” she snapped, her cheeks still flushed with embarrassment.
“I tried!” Murtasim defended, holding up his hands. “But she wouldn’t let me get a word in!”
“Well, now the whole family is going to think I’m available for matchmaking!” Meerab huffed, her foot tapping impatiently on the floor. “This is your fault!”
Murtasim raised an eyebrow, a smirk slowly creeping onto his face. “My fault? How is this my fault?”
“You were sitting over there, looking all stoic and distant like we don’t even know each other!” Meerab retorted, gesturing dramatically between them. “Of course she thought we weren’t married!”
Murtasim crossed his arms, leaning against the nearest pillar with a teasing glint in his eye. “So, you’re saying this is because I wasn’t sitting next to you?”
Meerab faltered for a moment, her face flushing deeper. “Well… yes!
 I mean, no! I mean—ugh, stop making it sound so ridiculous!”
Murtasim chuckled, stepping closer to her, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “Maybe if you weren’t so far away, she wouldn’t have had the chance to ask for your hand in marriage… from your husband.”
Meerab narrowed her eyes at him, but the corner of her lips twitched upward, betraying her amusement. “You’re impossible.”
“And you love it,” Murtasim replied smoothly, his grin widening.
Before Meerab could fire back a witty retort, Mariyam interrupted with another burst of laughter. “Oh, bhabi, bhai, I can’t believe this! The way she asked him for your hand in marriage—this is going to be the joke of the century!”
Murtasim groaned, realizing that this incident would likely be retold at every family gathering for years to come. “Great. Just what I needed,” he muttered sarcastically.
But despite the embarrassment, he couldn’t help but smile as he glanced at Meerab. Even in the most absurd of situations, she had a way of making everything feel right. 
And though this particular misunderstanding would haunt him for a while, Murtasim knew that if he had to endure it, there was no one he’d rather be mortified with than her.
“Next time,” he whispered into her ear, his voice laced with playful mischief, “we should sit a little closer, don’t you think?”
Meerab rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile that tugged at her lips. “I’ll think about it.”
And with that, the evening carried on, filled with laughter, good-natured teasing, and the lingering warmth of a family that, despite its eccentricities, always found a way to stay together.