As Meerab's car pulled up into the driveway of the Khan Mansion a week later, she could not help the rush of emotions that flooded her heart. It was as though every cell in her body was singing with joy, finally being home. She could feel the pride bubbling up inside of her, as she realized that she was returning home after doing what she thought once impossible for a woman of the Khan Household.

She had completed her law studies and written the bar exam, and was returning home to where she belonged. As she stepped out of the car and looked up at the grand facade of the Khan Mansion, Meerab felt a sense of pride. She could see the gleaming white marble of the steps leading up to the front door, and the elegant columns that stood sentinel on either side.

She had missed it. Even in its lavishness, it felt like home.

Meerab took a deep breath, letting the scent of flowers from the garden fill her senses. She could feel the warmth of the sun on her skin, as if it was welcoming her home. She smiled as she saw Maa Begum and Maryam rush out of the house, heading towards her with huge smiles on their faces.

"Finally, my daughter is back." Maa Begum gushed, while hugging her. Meerab couldn't help but hug back the woman who had raised her, her aunt in name, but someone who felt like a mother, a strict one, but a loving one nonetheless. "I shouldn't have agreed to Murtasim's words, the house has been too quiet without you." She sighed as she pulled away, cupping her face, her eyes trailing over it.

Meerab couldn't help but laugh. "Don't worry, Anila chachi and Waqas chachu fed me well and took care of me, Maa Begum."

"Welcome back!" Maryam gushed, as she pulled her into a hug next.

Meerab hugged her back, but her eyes were behind Maryam, searching for his familiar form, expecting him to be lingering somewhere behind his mother and sister. Her eyes flit over the crowd that was gathering to see her, eagerly seeking his presence.

"Bhai is not home if you're looking for him." Maryam teased as she pulled away.

Meerab's heart ached as the words registered. A deep longing had stirred within her as she got closer to the Khan Mansion, an unquenchable desire to see him again after being away for so long growing inside her.

She wondered if he truly didn't feel that way. Why wasn't she important enough for him to come see her? Doubts and fears that had plagued her mind all of last week filled her again as she tried to keep her composure in front of her family.

"I am not." She told Maryam with a smile.

Maryam rolled her eyes before whispering to her quietly. "Like the two of you haven't been using me to ask after the other these five years."

She didn't want to think about how he never willingly contacted her right then, those were thoughts she saved for when she tossed and turned in bed, wondering what she meant to him.

"My...baba?" She asked, hoping that the man who was her father in name wasn't around. The one who had given up all rights to her, letting his brother and sister-in-law raise her while he left the Khan Mansion, blaming her for the loss of his wife.

"Not here."

Meerab was glad.

"You two can talk later, settle back into your room, I have asked for your favourites to be made for lunch. Murtasim should be back by then too." Maa Begum chimed in.

Meerab hated how her heart skipped a beat at his name.

She tried to steady her breathing and calm her nerves, wondering how she would react to seeing him. It had been two years, seven months, and nineteen days since she had last seen him in person, across another table in another city.

She had stared from afar then, just like he did.

She wondered if it would be different this time.

Meerab unpacked and settled into her room, it didn't take too long before she found herself standing in front of the full-length mirror her room, her eyes fixed on her reflection. Meerab knew she was conventionally attractive, people told her that all the time, but she couldn't help but feel a sense of self-doubt creeping in, as she scrutinized every inch of herself.

Why was her hair frizzy all of a sudden?

Why did her eyes look so tired and small?

Why was there a small pimple on her cheek that day of all days?

She tugged at the edges of her pink suit, wondering if it was too tight or too loose. She had picked the colour because of him, his eyes had lingered a bit longer when she wore pink...or yellow. Or they used to. Her heart ached with the weight of her insecurities, ones that had lingered just under the surface for years, and then came out into the light when she saw the picture of him with Zara.

"I guess we'll find out." She said as she grabbed a comb off the dresser, combing through her hair.

Her phone buzzed as she lined her eyes with more kohl.

She picked up her phone, Rumi's name flashing across the screen along with a short message. Everything will be all right, don't worry, you've looked forward to this day for so long, don't let your thoughts ruin it!

Meerab couldn't help but smile, she would miss Rumi's constant presence in her life. Waqas chacha and Anila chachi's daughter was exactly like the two of them, kind hearted and open. She had welcomed Meerab's presence in her house when she had moved there for university, despite the fact that they had only met on rare occasions as children.

Rumi was the definition of quiet strength, someone who had gone through a whole lot as a child, she too had been abandoned by her father. He had left her at an orphanage and gotten remarried, moving away to England. Meerab wondered if that's why she had always felt so close to her, they both shared a similar misery, her words was always able to make her feel better.

Yet despite Rumi's reassuring words then, her hands still trembled while she applied her lip gloss. Her heart raced in anticipation of seeing Murtasim – knowing that he would either be happy to see her or indifferent.

Her heart would break if it was the latter.

But she couldn't avoid it.

She picked up the hairbrush again, running it through her hair repeatedly, her nerves getting the best of her. As she straightened her kameez and dupatta, she took a deep breath and reminded herself to be calm and composed. But the butterflies in her stomach refused to settle. She paced around the room, trying to steady herself, but her mind was filled with thoughts of Murtasim, and the possibility of seeing him soon.

Meerab was so consumed by her thoughts that she jumped when a knock sounded on the door, a maid letting her know that lunch was set. Her heart raced as she approached the stairs, carefully stepping down them, only to stop midway when she caught sight of a figure in navy from the corner of her eye.

Murtasim stood at the bottom of the stairs, clad in a navy kurta and white pajama. He filled it out much better than he had the last time she had seen him in one. Meerab felt her breath hitch in her throat as she took him in. The pictures did not do him justice, they did not even come close to capturing the way his eyes twinkled, or how his face moved gently as he took in a deep breath before exhaling.

He stood with his hands behind his back, looking up at her, and she couldn't help but let her eyes trail from his broad shoulders to the way his kurta hugged his chest. His hair was perfectly styled away from his face, his beard looked like he had trimmed it recently, the lines sharp.

As they stood there, gazing at each other, time seemed to stand still. Meerab's heart swelled with emotion, feeling a rush of love and longing as she took in every detail of his face, from the strong jawline to the small creases around his eyes, as if she was seeing him for the first time all over again. And yet, everything about him was still so familiar - the way he stood, the way he looked at her, the way he made her feel. It was as if no time had passed at all.

Murtasim's eyes roved over Meerab with an intensity that she found puzzling. She had never seen such a look on his face before. His gaze was tender yet it seemed like he devouring her features like a man who had been starved of a sight for far too long. Despite the unfamiliarity of it, Meerab found herself drawn to the raw emotion emanating from him. She wondered if he saw her differently now, if she had changed as much as he had since they last met.

Maybe she had been wrong. Maybe this was what Rumi was talking about when she spoke of the way Murtasim looked at her.

Finally, Murtasim spoke, breaking the spell that had fallen over them. "Welcome home, Meerab." He said, his voice low and warm, lower than she had remembered it. She savoured the sound of his voice as it washed over her like a gentle wave. His tone had deepened since she had last heard it, and she found herself captivated by the rich timbre of his words.

And with those words of welcome, Meerab felt her heart fill with warmth as she smiled at him.

"By the way, you two have been standing there for two minutes now...blocking my only way of getting down." Maryam's teasing voice came from behind Meerab.

Meerab felt heat rise in her cheeks as Maryam came to stand beside her on the stairs.

"I came to get you both, lunch is ready." Murtasim said before turning away from the stairs, walking towards the dining room.

"Never came to get me before." Maryam giggled as she walked down the stairs, pulling Meerab behind her.

Meerab found herself sitting right across Murtasim at the table. She wished that she had been sitting on the same side of the table as him because it would have made it harder to look at him. With him sitting across her, her eyes refused to leave him for too long even though under any other circumstances she would have been wholly focused on all her favourite foods lining the table.

But their separation had been an agony for her, a constant ache in her heart that had never quite subsided, but one she had learnt to ignore throughout her busy days. But the nights had stretched before her like an endless desert, parched and empty as thoughts of home and him plagued her. She had longed for him with a fierce intensity that consumed her every waking thought, unable to quell the longing that burned within her. And now that he was before her, she couldn't look away.

The glimpses she had caught of him over the past five years did nothing to prepare her for him. She knew some of it must have been subjective, because Rumi liked to say that when a woman loved a man, he became the most handsome one in the world, not just in her eyes but in her heart and soul. And that was what Murtasim was to her, every line of his face and every movement he made was attractive to her. It wasn't simply the physical features – albeit he had been blessed with perfect ones – but rather the essence of him that captivated her so.

She noticed that he had gotten into the habit of running his hands across his beard, patting it down, and fixing his moustache. Both of which had filled out very nicely. She hadn't understood how beards could be attractive until she saw him with one, it added to his attractiveness, defining his jawline, adding texture and contrast to his face.

"Meerab, can you pass the mutton biryani to bhai?" Maryam asked, trying to reach across the table.

Meerab picked up the white bowl, warm to the touch, and held it out to Murtasim who was looking back at her. He nodded as his hand reached out to grab the bowl. Her hand trembled slightly as his hand brushed against hers, the sensation of his skin against hers sending a jolt of electricity coursing through her veins. Her heart raced as they both came to a stop. His hand felt warm to the touch despite the bowl she held, her gaze fixed upon his fingers, which were broad and strong, but gentle as they touched her skin.

His hands were rougher than she remembered.

Her eyes flickered back up to his, and she felt a shiver run down her spine at the intensity of his gaze. Her mind went back to her birthday dinner two years ago. He had looked at her like that then too, in a way that she didn't quite comprehend but something that left her captivated and intimidated. For a moment, it felt as if they were the only two people in the world.

And then Maryam cleared her throat and Murtasim looked away, taking the bowl from her.

Meerab wondered why he didn't speak. Maa Begum and Maryam fired off question after question, but he didn't utter a word, and when he did, it was only to Maa Begum's inquiry about some matter that had come up at the village.

As he spoke, Meerab felt a sense of strength emanating from him, as though his very words were imbued with a powerful force. He had always sounded like a man that had authority, but it was different from how he had been before. She drank in every sound that escaped his lips, marveling at the way she could feel the full weight of his words echoing in her heart.

There was something different about him.

His eyes, once so expressive, now seemed to hold back some emotion, making her wonder what he was thinking. And his smile, which used to come so easily, now seemed like a rare occurrence, as if it had become a precious commodity to be rationed out carefully. He spoke with authority, his words measured and to the point, as if he had experienced a great deal in the time they had been apart. She couldn't help but wonder what had changed in him, and whether those changes extended to how he felt about her.

She longed to talk to him, to ask him questions, but there was no opportunity. She didn't know how to start and he didn't speak directly to her. But she knew he was listening intently as she answered Maa Begum and Maryam's questions, about the program she had finished, about how happy she was to be back home, about how much she liked Karachi.

Meerab felt her heart race as she looked up to find Murtasim gazing at her from over the rim of his glass. She wondered if her imagination was running wild, for surely no man would look at a woman with such intensity unless he harbored some deep affection for her. She wished Rumi was beside her, she would have taken it all in, and gushed about it later, breaking it down scene by scene like she did with the movies she so loved.

She felt her cheeks flush with color as she looked away, afraid that her reaction might give away the depth of her feelings. For he had never spoken of any affection, and he hadn't said a word to her since they sat down at the dining table. She wondered if he didn't feel it, the longing she felt to talk to him, to tell him everything she had been up to in the last few years, to ask him a million questions.

She tried to distract herself by fidgeting with the cutlery, but she found her eyes drawn back to him time and time again. She could feel his gaze on her, like a warm caress that sent shivers down her spine. She wondered if he felt the same way about her, or if she was simply reading too much into the way he looked at her.

As she got up from the table, eating little, she wondered if they would talk then or at dinner. But he announced that he had to leave.

Maa Begum asked him where he was going, looking rather confused.

He just cleared his throat a little and said back to the village.

It wasn't until he left and Maa Begum retired to her room to take a phone call that Maryam burst out into giggles. "He came back to see you, Meerab! He drove all the way back from the village only to drive back! Hai, the things love makes us do, driving such a long distance twice in the same day for a glimpse of the woman you love."

Her heart stuttered in her chest at Maryam's words, wondering if they were in fact true. From his conversation with Maa Begum, she had gathered that he had been at the village for the past few days. But it seemed that he still had unfinished business there since he was going back...so had he only come to see her?

If so, what did that mean?

----

A/N: Thank you for the wonderful response to the first chapter, I am glad so many of you enjoyed it! I hope this chapter hits the mark too, would love to hear your thoughts! What is Murtasim thinking? Hehehehehe. 

Also - if you missed it, I also updated my other fic, Mohabbat Nahi, Ishq, moments ago!