Caught within the vibrant flurry of colors and the excited chatter of loved ones, Murtasim Khan was in a world of his own. The opulent haveli had been transformed into a picturesque setting for an intimate nikaah ceremony. The grandeur of the space subtly tamed to accommodate a select group of guests: Rumi and her parents – Waqas and Anila - Hamza, Arslan, Armaan, Maryam, and his mother.

The courtyard outside was enveloped in a cocoon of sparkling lights, glistening against the late afternoon sun. The traditional decorations, coupled with the infectious excitement that fluttered through the haveli, brought a sense of anticipation that clung to the crisp air.

Off to the side, under the soft glow of the patio, his bride was in her own radiant bubble. Murtasim watched Meerab from a concealed corner, mesmerized by the vision she presented. Adorned in the ethereal ivory and gold lehenga he himself had picked out for her, Meerab was the epitome of timeless elegance. Every inch of the fabric was intricately woven with delicate embellishments, each glittering thread reflecting the surrounding light and making her glow in a celestial radiance. She was like a star that had descended upon the earth, exuding a magnificence that was nothing short of extraordinary.

Murtasim was brought to an involuntary standstill the moment his gaze landed on her. She was a vision - so stunningly beautiful that he felt his breath being robbed from his lungs. The sight of Meerab, his Meerab, dressed as his bride was simply overwhelming, etching a memory into his heart so deeply that it seemed to make time itself pause.

He found himself struggling to breathe, his chest constricting with the intensity of the emotions flooding him. Meerab, in all her bridal splendour, was a sight that was utterly breathtaking, intoxicating to the point that she felt like the air he needed to breathe, to survive. He would treasure the image, of Meerab in her bridal outfit, forever, engraving it into the deepest corners of his soul. If he had to choose the last sight to grace his eyes, it would undoubtedly be her, his radiant bride, his Meerab.

A perfect moment, a perfect sight, and he couldn't help but think he could die a happy man with this being his last memory. Her veil, a cascade of intricate sheer fabric accented by delicate work, flowed gently down her back, swaying with each delicate movement she made as the photographer clicked picture after picture.

Her hair was styled in a sleek updo, accentuating her graceful neck. The ancestral jewelry she wore - a beautifully crafted necklace and earrings - added a touch of elegance. Murtasim's heart pounded as he admired her features, subtly accentuated by her makeup, with a dash of red lipstick that stood out against her fair complexion even from a distance.

His reverie was broken by the sound of giggles. Turning around, he found Rumi and Maryam, their eyes sparkling with mischief, at his side.

"I am surprised your family doesn't have a tradition where you can't see the bride before the nikaah." Rumi teased.

"Shut up, Rumi." He sighed.

Maryam snickered. "We bend rules often, Rumi...but Maa did say that we shouldn't let you two be alone." She added, making Murtasim sigh in frustration at the reminder.

Rumi shot back. "It seems like you'll be tasked with that for months, Maryam."

"Sad, isn't it?" Maryam's snicker filled the air again, prompting Murtasim to shoot them both a faux stern look.

He decided to cut straight to the chase. "Stop beating around the bush, what will it take for you two to come over to my side and cover for us rather than bother us?" His question was met with a wicked gleam in Rumi and Maryam's eyes.

"Diamond earrings." They announced in unison, not skipping a beat. "A pair for each of us." The synchronized demand made it clear to Murtasim that they had planned this out in advance, which brought a resigned chuckle from him.

"Done." He agreed readily. He knew he would need people on his side to secure a moment alone with Meerab under his mother's watchful eye, even if it meant pampering the meddlesome duo. He would have agreed to whole diamond sets so just earrings were really a bargain.

Throughout the entire exchange, his gaze hadn't wavered from Meerab as she posed for the photographer. His Meerab. Who, in just a few moments, would officially be his wife.

Rumi's voice sliced through the moment, as soft as the brush of a feather against skin. "She's not going to disappear if you look away, you know." She had a knowing lilt to her voice, clearly comprehending the depth of his feelings.

"I know. I am just – " Murtasim began, a knot forming in his throat as he tried to put his overwhelming emotions into words. But what could he say? How could he explain that just looking at Meerab, dressed as his bride, stirred a tempest of joy and love within him? He drew in a shaky breath, his heart hammering against his ribs. "It's finally happening."

There was a resigned sigh from Rumi as she shook her head. "You know, you both could have saved each other a lot of heartache if you just got married early."

Murtasim nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "But Meerab used to go to these weddings and say they were marrying off children if the girl was anything less than 21. She always said they weren't their own person yet. And she wanted to finish law school, so we waited."

"Sounds very much like her." Rumi's response was affectionate, her admiration for Meerab clear.

"If I thought she wanted it, I would have married her in a heartbeat even at 17." His voice held an echo of longing. The truth was, he had been ready for this moment since he was in high school.

Maryam hummed in agreement, her expression softening into something tender and affectionate. "I am happy for you, bhai." She reached up to hug him, her arms tight around his waist. "Now go take pictures with your bride...remember the photographer is there." She giggled as she pulled back, a cheeky sparkle in her eyes that mirrored the joyous atmosphere enveloping them all.

"Distract the photographer for me." He muttered, he needed a moment with his bride.

Without a moment's hesitation, Rumi and Maryam sprang into action. They darted across the expanse of the lawn towards the photographer, their voices bubbling with feigned urgency. Their laughter echoed across the garden, their sentences overlapping in their haste to convince the middle-aged woman to follow them.

"Wait, you need to take pictures of the house!" Maryam insisted, hooking her arm into the photographer's and leading her away from the patio.

"And the venue!" Rumi added, pointing towards the beautifully decorated courtyard that was brimming with the colours of joy and love.

As they flitted away, their cheerful voices fading into the background, they created the perfect diversion for Murtasim, leaving the path clear for him to approach Meerab. Murtasim began his stealthy approach towards the patio. Meerab stood there, the embodiment of ethereal beauty in her bridal finery, standing before a grand mirror, her veil cast over her head, her shoulders squared, and her back straight, looking at herself. The sheer magnificence of the moment took his breath away, she was so utterly gorgeous.

As he silently slid behind her, their eyes met in the mirror, causing a powerful surge of emotion to engulf him. His heart pounded fiercely against his ribcage, threatening to leap out of his chest. In the mirror, their reflections stood together, in perfect harmony, embodying the joy and love they felt for each other.

"You're breathtaking, Meerab." He confessed, his voice barely a whisper, his gaze locked on their reflection. His words hung in the air between them, radiating with the raw intensity of his emotions. "I've waited so long to see you as my bride."

Her eyes sparkled as she met his gaze in the mirror, a tender smile playing on her lips. "I've been waiting for you for so long." Her voice held a playful complaint. "Literally too. Apparently, you have the first right to see me without this, because all of this is for you." She playfully twitched her veil, her words etching a permanent imprint on his heart.

He chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Since when are you the one to listen to tradition?" He teased. "Who'd you dress up for?"

"Hmmm, myself...and for your reaction." Her answer was cheeky and so typically Meerab, causing a warmth to spread through him.

With a tender touch, he gently lifted her veil, revealing her radiant face. They both found their reflection in the mirror - a pair about to become one. The sight of her in full bridal splendor had him breathless once again. Her dark eyes sparkled, framed by her thick eyelashes. Her lips, painted a deep red, curved into a shy smile at his reaction, adding a warm, intimate dimension to her enchanting beauty.

"Gorgeous." He whispered, the single word carrying a world of adoration.

"You are too." She grinned back, her eyes glinting with mischievous happiness, causing him to burst into laughter. Their joy echoed in the patio, intertwining with the serene aura of their surroundings.

She turned towards him then, her eyes sparkling with joy, a wide smile gracing her beautiful face. His heart stumbled in his chest, then started anew in a rhythm that was all for Meerab. Seeing her standing there, adorned in bridal attire, ready to become his, was a sight he had been yearning to witness for as long as he could remember. This was his Meerab, the woman he had always loved, the woman he had been waiting for. The woman who, in a few moments, would be officially and undeniably his. Just as he would be hers.

As Murtasim cupped her face, he couldn't help but marvel at the warmth of her skin under his palms. He leaned down to press a soft peck on her red lips.

Her giggle made his heart flutter, a sound so pure and joyful that he wanted to hear it forever. As she brought her fingers up to wipe his lips, a playful smirk tugged at his own. "That's the fastest way to give us away, Mr. Khan."

"My apologies, Mrs. Khan." He retorted with a soft chuckle, the thrill of calling her 'Mrs. Khan' filling him with elation.

"I haven't said qubool hai yet." She teased, her smile turning coy.

In reply, he asked her the question he knew would be posed to her shortly, one that would bind them together forever. "Hmmmmmm, Meerab Anwar Khan, tumhe mujhse nikaah qubool hai?"

Her response, a giggle and nod, followed by a whisper. "Qubool hai, qubool hai, qubool hai." She said three times, it felt like a balm to his yearning heart. "Murtasim Shahnawaz Khan, tumhe mujhse nikaah qubool hai?"

As she reciprocated his question, he replied, "Qubool hai", his is words soft yet brimming with love.

"We already signed our own contract yesterday, so I guess that means we just got ourselves officially married." She whispered, her joy infectious.

He chuckled. "The Qazi would have a heart attack if he read that, Mrs. Khan." His heart soared seeing her smile widen at the address.

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she whined. "You're going to make me ruin my makeup, shaitaan!" Murtasim laughed at her concern, his love for her evident in his glowing eyes.

"Twirl for me then, you always loved that." He said, knowing well that it would help divert her attention.

As Murtasim watched her spin, a soft, spontaneous laugh bubbled up from her, her eyes twinkling with an irrepressible joy. It spread like wildfire, infectious and pure, causing his heart to skip a beat. The sight was intoxicating, her happiness and excitement palpable in the air around them. The sun caught the gold embellishments on her lehenga, making them shimmer like tiny stars.

The moment she stopped twirling, he was there, pulling her gently towards him. She fit against him as if she was always meant to be there, in his arms. Their surroundings faded into a blur, the world narrowing down to just them. He gently cupped her face, bending down to press a tender kiss to her forehead, sealing his promise of love and protection in that simple act. A soft gasp escaped her lips, her eyes closing for a moment as she savored the sensation, the reality of their impending union sinking in.

There was no one else around, no one else to witness this intimate exchange except the photographer who had returned to the scene. Clicks of the camera filled the silence, each frame capturing their love, their shared joy, and the promise of a lifetime together.

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Gazing at Meerab and Murtasim, nestled amidst the lush verdant settings of their home's garden, set up intimately for their nikaah, Maa Begum felt a sense of joy bloom within her. Her heart was heavy with an exquisite blend of love and happiness, stirred by the sight of the two children she had raised, now on the brink of becoming tied to each other for the rest of their lives.

They were radiant, their faces glowing with the kind of light that could only be sparked by the purest form of love and anticipation. One that refused to dim even as their cousins teased them subtly, Arslan the loudest, quipping about how his face hurt looking at them smile so much.

She shook her head fondly as she took her seat, she had waited for this day, dreamed of it, prayed for it. Now, the cherished scene was unfolding right before her eyes, more beautiful than she ever could have imagined, bringing tears to her eyes.

The journey to this moment had been long and filled with love, patience, and a great deal of longing.

From the time Meerab had turned 18, Maa Begum had proposed the idea of their marriage repeatedly. Each time, Murtasim had responded with the same patient not yet. He had been adamant about letting Meerab finish her education, something he had adamantly fought for by her side, it was a trait which made Maa Begum respect her son.

Their commitment had held a high price, though. The separation during Meerab's years in law school in Karachi had been a torture for them both. She had seen the yearning in their eyes, the shadows of longing that fell over their smiles when they spoke of each other.

Despite the physical distance, their bond remained strong, a testament to the depth of their relationship. The two of them only had eyes for each other, even when separated by cities. They only spoke of each other, their voices softening, their eyes shining with a shared affection that was palpable even to outsiders, people even referred to them as belonging to each other when speaking of them – Meerab ka Murtasim, Murtasim ki Meerab.

Their bond had always been one of loyalty, patience, and deep affection. Maa Begum smiled at the thought, her heart warm and content. The years of waiting and the pain of separation had only solidified their bond, making it as unshakeable as ever. And today, as they finally vowed to be each other's forever, her felt her heart swell with joy.

Salma Baig had never been a woman that believed in true love, but the mother who raised Murtasim and Meerab had become a firm believer in love. There had always been something about the two of them that made her believe they would make it through anything, the couple that would be in love with each other even on their death bed.

The two had grown up together, as partners in crime, as best friends, and as each other's biggest champions despite the numerous fights they got into. They could say or do anything to the other, but if someone else even tried, they were each other's fiercest protectors. Murtasim and Meerab had always been each other's safe haven. And during Meerab's time away, she had noticed the spark in their eyes dimming, their spirits subdued. It wasn't until Meerab's return that they both, especially Murtasim, truly came alive again, the reunion breathing life into their dulled spirits.

Aware of the sacrifice and hardship they had undergone, Maa Begum was more than relieved for this day to finally arrive. Even though she had playfully threatened to send Meerab to Lahore, she knew she never would. There was a trust she had in her son, a trust that he would follow the rules as he had all these years. Well, at least she trusted him to some extent. Meerab, however, had a knack for bending Murtasim to her will, for making him surrender in the sweetest of ways. She always had - more often than not when Murtasim was caught sneaking sweets from the fridge, her little hands were also covered with the residue. To her credit, she always stepped in front of him and declared it was her doing when he got into trouble for anything she had roped him into.

A smile came to her face as she remembered the two little children that she loved with her whole heart turning into two adults old enough to get married, they used to run around chasing each other through the same garden that was set up for their nikaah. The air of the garden was thick with the sweet scent of rose water and jasmine, wafting from the ornate flower garland pardah that hung between them.

The pardah hid them from each other, but the smiles etched on their faces spoke volumes about their feelings. Meerab's smile was visible even through her veil, she was grinning like an absolute fool in love, her son was no better, trying to peek through the flowers like she didn't have to pry him from her side before the nikaah.

Even then, his hands reached under the pardah to smooth out the edges of Meerab's lengha as she adjusted herself while sitting. Maa Begum's heart swelled at the sight, the tenderness of the gesture echoing the care he had always shown for Meerab. Rumi and Maryam, sitting by the side, both giggled at the sight, their mirth adding a beautiful melody to the air.

And then, she found herself looking at Meerab. Oh, how beautiful she looked! In a breathtaking lehenga of cream and gold, her face glowing under the ornate bridal dupatta that had Murtasim ki Dulhan written over it. Her eyes shimmered with a mix of excitement and nervousness, but when Murtasim's fingers trailed under the pardah, caressing hers, Meerab saw her eyes soften.

She cleared her throat, holding back a smile at how quickly her son pulled his fingers back. Hamza too seemed to have caught the movement because he leaned in to whisper something to Murtasim causing her son to glare at him.

The room quietened as the officiant began the ceremony. Waqas, as Meerab's Wali in place of Anwar who remained thankfully absent, sat with a solemn expression on his face, understanding the magnitude of his role in stepping in. The Shah Brothers, standing as witnesses, held an air of joyous responsibility.

Even though she knew that they would have a grander, public celebration later, she knew nothing would compare to the heartfelt authenticity of this moment. Throughout the ceremony, she noticed Meerab and Murtasim's hands sneaking towards each other under the pardah, she ignored it rather than reprimanding them, even though they weren't supposed to do that.

She couldn't deny them the comfort they sought in each other, their fingers gently touching and intertwining, she was sure they thought they were being inconspicuous but from the giggles that resonated around her, she was sure their eagle-eyed cousins had noticed and would tease them about it after.

Maa Begum found herself clearing her throat again, the giggling ceased, and they all acted like reprimanded children, their heads hanging down as the qazi's sermon continued, his words echoing the sanctity of marriage, filled with advice from the Quran and Hadith.

She found herself watching Meerab and Murtasim again, their surreptitious touch, their shared smiles, the love and anticipation in their eyes... all of it made her heart brim with happiness. She watched with twinkling eyes and a swelling heart as the nikaah ceremony proceeded. The air in the room was thick with anticipation and joy. As the Qazi, in his deep timbre, posed the all-important question to Meerab, two things happened.

First, eyebrows raised at the haq mehr, Murtasim had insisted on an unusual one. To the room, it just seemed like he was giving his wife a large amount of land, but she knew it meant a lot more than that, it was a clear testament of his love and respect for Meerab.

Second, the momentarily surprise was swiftly overshadowed as Meerab replied. Meerab's qubool hai came out so fast, so eagerly, that it drew soft snickers from all the youngsters and Anila. She repeated it thrice, with an urgency that had everyone amused, almost cutting the qazi off in her haste. Murtasim himself let out a soft chuckle, and she felt warmth spread in her chest, seeing the laughter in her son's eyes.

And then, Maa Begum noticed Meerab's eyes narrowing, a playful glint in them as they met Murtasim's through the pardah. The Qazi turned towards Murtasim then, asking him the same question. Maa Begum held her breath, her heart thudding along with Meerab's, she was sure. But to everyone's surprise, Murtasim didn't respond right away. Instead, a mischievous grin played on his lips as he looked back at Meerab.

"Murtasim Shahnawaz Khan!" Meerab's voice cut through the room, eliciting a round of laughter. It was at this moment that Murtasim finally said his qubool hai. Maa Begum shook her head in fond exasperation, knowing that her son would have to pay for his little prank later, she would act miffed, and he would try to appease her, like they always did.

The final declaration from the Qazi echoed in the room, officially pronouncing Murtasim and Meerab as husband and wife. As soon as the words had been spoken and the duas completed, Murtasim rushed to part the pardah, lifting Meerab's veil with eager yet gentle hands. His smile was so wide, it threatened to outshine the room itself.

Tears welled up in everyone's eyes as Murtasim bent down to plant a soft kiss on Meerab's forehead. It was a tender moment, the culmination of years of yearning and longing, now solidified in the sacred bonds of matrimony. They were finally one, two souls perfectly intertwined.

Maa Begum sighed in contentment, her heart brimming with love and joy as they hugged. The Qazi looked a little taken aback but she didn't have it in her to care about that as she watched tears stream down both Meerab and Murtasim's face, their lips moving softly into each other's ears, whispering something meant just for the two of them.

As she watched them, she sent a silent prayer to the Almighty, asking Him to bless this union, to fill their lives with love, peace and eternal happiness.

If she thought uttering qubool hai would make them wiser, she was wrong, they both acted like children as it came time to sign the nikaahnama, Meerab refusing to sign it with a playful pout, whining about how Murtasim had almost made her have a heart attack when he didn't say qubool hai right away.

They all knew she was just teasing.

With a little bit of whining, whispers, and pleading, the nikaahnama was signed. Maa Begum breathed a sigh of relief, Anwar couldn't do anything now.

From her vantage point, Maa Begum watched as Meerab and Murtasim whisper to each other warmly as everyone around them celebrated. The joy and contentment radiating from the two souls were almost palpable. As she studied their entwined figures, she knew that it wasn't the formal wedding that had bound them together, their souls had always been intricately intertwined, like two threads spun from the same spool of fate.

She could see it now, an invisible resilient thread that tied them together, woven from shared memories, laughter, tears, dreams, and an understanding deeper than the oceans. That thread had always existed between them, silently, subtly weaving its magic. It would always pull them towards each other, like two celestial bodies caught in the unfailing grip of gravity, no matter how far they wandered. The thread that tied them together wasn't just made of love, but also of an unyielding commitment to each other, a silent promise to weather every storm together. Maa Begum knew then that Meerab and Murtasim were not just bound by their nikaah; they were bound by the unbreakable ties of destiny.

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Meerab couldn't contain her mirth as Murtasim noticed his shoes had vanished after they signed the nikaahnama and gathered around the elaborately decorated dining table in the garden to enjoy a lavish spread for an early dinner. His face scrunched up in annoyance, an endearing look of confusion clouding his sharp features. She followed his gaze, landing on Rumi, who was unable to stifle her laughter.

Of course, Meerab mused, it should have been obvious that Rumi, with her fondness for all things Bollywood, would insist on the traditional joota chupai ceremony. It was such a Rumi thing to do, she had likely been planning it from the moment she heard about the nikaah.

"Seriously, Maryam?" Murtasim shot a look of disbelief at his sister, whose chuckles joined the symphony of laughter that had filled the air. "You're my sister!"

"Haan, but Meerab is my now my sister-in-law and my cousin, and my favourite." Maryam retorted playfully, her words punctuated by a cheeky tongue sticking out at Murtasim. In the same breath, she threw her arms around Meerab in a bear hug. Meerab found herself giggling, her heart brimming with warmth at the camaraderie.

She found herself distracted from the banter as she took him in. Murtasim sat tall in the dining chair right next to hers in his pristine white sherwani, looking every inch the groom he was. The tailored attire clung to his lean form, enhancing the chiseled planes of his physique that she so adored. His posture, the square set of his shoulders, the gentle, commanding ease with which he carried himself - all spoke of an inherent regality that was as effortless as it was stunning. It was as though he had stepped off the glossy pages of a high-end fashion magazine, and she felt her heart flutter at the sight.

He was exceptionally handsome, his deep-set eyes glittering with an intense happiness as he bantered with their cousins, one that made her breath hitch. His neatly trimmed beard added to the charismatic allure, giving him a look that was undeniably irresistible.

Yet, what truly took her breath away was the realization that this immaculate man, in all his irresistible charm, was now her husband. The thought sent a giddy thrill coursing through her veins, her heart pounding with an infectious joy. He was hers - this thought whirled around in her head like a beautiful mantra, leaving her dizzy with overwhelming emotions.

Her Murtasim - so splendidly attired, so royally elegant, so incredibly hers. The reality of their wedded bliss settled deep within her heart, bringing a radiant smile to her face. Loud, boisterous laughing caught her attention again, causing her to look away from Murtasim and process the scene unfolding in front of her.

It seemed that the Shah brothers offered no aid to Murtasim's plight as he looked over at them. Their shared shrug was simultaneously apologetic and cheeky, allegiance already pledged to her. "Team Meerab for the win!" Arslan hooted. Murtasim heaved a heavy sigh, one that prompted a chuckle from Meerab.

She reached out, intertwining her fingers with his, her eyes gleaming with mischief and affection. "Don't worry, I am on your side, which means they're all on your side too...just not right now." She reassured her husband.

Thinking of him as her husband made her want to shriek in excitement again. But instead, she let out a soft squeal that she suspected only Murtasim heard.

He arched his eyebrow in question.

"I am just having a moment because I thought of you as my husband in my head." Her words were a soft whisper, her smile radiant.

Murtasim seemed to forget about the crowd, the stolen shoes, the game. He cupped her face, his eyes burning with an intensity that stole her breath away. She gasped as he leaned down, his intentions clear. But the moment was broken by a chorus of throat clearings.

"Before you can do that..." Rumi began, her words cut short as Maa Begum cleared her throat again, her stern gaze was enough to quell Rumi's enthusiasm. "...months later." Rumi amended sheepishly.

Then, with an air of self-importance, Rumi took center stage. "Today, we start a new tradition - because who needs money for shoes - "

Murtasim's sarcastic interjection cut Rumi's declaration off. "People who haven't already extorted lakhs and diamond earrings from the groom." He announced.

Maa Begum, never one to miss a beat, turned her curious gaze onto him. "What did you do that you had to give them lakhs?" She enquired, her eyebrows raised in a silent challenge.

A pit formed in Meerab's stomach as she watched Murtasim stutter and stumble over his words. "I - uh - " His hesitance didn't bode well for either of them.

"To learn about which engagement ring I wanted." Meerab quickly intervened, saving them from further embarrassment. She sent an apologetic mutter towards the sky, her guilt at lying mitigated by her desperation to keep their secret safe – the last thing Maa Begum needed to know was that they had been found sleeping together by the pair.

Finally, Rumi managed to steer the attention back to the game at hand. She faced the camera, held by a grinning Arslan, and spoke. "The groom will play a game where he has to prove how well he knows the bride, if he gets 6 out of the 8 questions correct, he gets his shoes back and can take his bride away!"

Once again, Maa Begum's throat clearing echoed in the room, prompting Rumi to add hastily. "Acha! Figuratively away...after the rukhsati!" She grinned into the camera.

The laughter and cheers that erupted in the room was a testament to the love and camaraderie that bound them all together. This was her family, Meerab realized, her heart swelling with happiness.

Rumi continued to command the room's attention, her energy infectious as Hamza approached them bearing two small white boards. Meerab was quite sure she had never seen a wedding game quite so amusing, this was definitely one for the books, something Rumi would speak of for years to come.

"To ensure there is no cheating, we will ask Murtasim Bhai a question about Meerab. They will both write their answers down, and then we will compare them!" Rumi announced. Meerab felt a thrill of anticipation - this was bound to be interesting, she had no doubt that Murtasim would get all the questions right...if their cousins had behaved.

She accepted the whiteboard from Hamza, a grin tugging at her lips as she shot Murtasim a mischievous glance. He groaned softly but took his own board, his resignation sparking laughter among the cousins.

Rumi pressed on. "To make sure they don't talk with their eyes - as they usually do -" She cast a cheeky wink at the camera, eliciting a collective groan from Waqas and Anila at her melodramatic antics. "...we'll have Meerab sit away from him."

Armaan, seemingly tasked with this responsibility, placed a chair a bit further from the table, behind her, far enough to hinder eye contact and conversation, angled in a way that she couldn't sneak a glance at his board. Meerab sighed and got up, following Rumi's orders, sitting on the chair behind Murtasim.

"Alright." Rumi's voice carried throughout the garden, adding to the atmosphere of anticipation as they settled into their respective spots. "All of us took a turn picking a question to keep you on your toes! And question number one is by the star of this household, the woman who put all of this together in a day, the most valuable player of the Khan Family – Maa Begum!" Rumi said animatedly.

As the echo of Arslan and Hamza's rambunctious cheers filled the space, Armaan gave a more reserved clap, falling in rhythm with the muted applause from Rumi's parents and Maryam. It was an bubble of joy and merriment, and Meerab soaked in the infectious happiness that filled the air as the game started.

Over it all, Maa Begum's voice rang out, soft yet commanding. Her first question was beautifully mischievous. "If you and Meerab were to have a daughter, what would Meerab want to name her?" Meerab could see the twinkle in Maa Begum's eyes as a ripple of chuckles and knowing glances passed between the cousins.

As a heated blush seeped into her cheeks, Meerab found her gaze lowering to the blank whiteboard in her lap. This was uncharted territory - they had meandered through conversations about their future family, the number of children they wanted, but names were an aspect they had never delved into.

"But he can't know that because I don't know it!" Her protest was directed at Rumi, who she knew was the mastermind behind the interrogation.

"That's the whole point, Meerab, it's to see if you're on the same wavelength!" Rumi's response, brimming with laughter, only made her groan louder, her mock frustration clashing with the euphoria simmering inside her.

In the next moment, an idea flashed through her mind, a name that seemed to bubble up from some shared depth within them. She saw it then - their daughter, a mix of them both, her name reflecting that beautiful union. It was a whimsical thought, an innocent fancy, and it brought a new wave of blushing warmth to her cheeks. She cast a quick glance ahead, catching a glimpse of Murtasim's head bent over his own board, scribbling something down. With a shy smile playing on her lips, she began to write. Meesam.

"Time's up! Let's see the answers!" Rumi's voice sliced through the excited chatter, calling everyone's attention back. Swallowing down her nerves, Meerab revealed her board, her heart pounding a wild rhythm in her chest.

The collective gasp that followed told her everything she needed to know. Their answers were identical - Meesam. The surprise rippled through the room, sparking laughter and a renewed wave of applause. Yet, in the midst of the merry chaos, her eyes found Murtasim. He had turned around, his board displayed in his hand. His face mirrored her own shock, the wide-eyed surprise slowly melting into pure delight. And as their eyes met, their shared joy echoed in the laughter around them.

Rumi's voice, vivacious and high-spirited, was an echo of the exhilaration in Meerab's heart as she announced, "Okay, okay! That's one out of eight for our groom, who's off to a great start! Question number two is from the sweetest Baba in the whole wide world, Mr. Waqas Ahmed!" Rumi was the ringmaster of this event, and her enthusiasm, infectious as ever, was buoyed by their shared success.

Turning her gaze to him, Meerab felt a surge of affection for the man she had come to consider as a father figure. He had, over the years, filled a void her own father had left vacant, with his unwavering kindness and genuine love. He had accepted her wholeheartedly as a daughter in the five years she had spent with the Ahmeds.

His question, however, set her mind into a whirl. "We all know Meerab is scared of the dark, but other than that what is Meerab's biggest fear?" The words floated in the air, filling the room with an intimate silence.

The universe of Meerab's fears seemed small to outsiders but was vast inside her, yet amidst the galaxies of her anxieties, one fear shone brighter, more formidable than the rest. Losing Murtasim. It was a fear that lingered at the edges of her consciousness, one that they hadn't discussed in so many words, but one that she was certain he knew. He was her anchor, her beacon, the one constant in her life, the person she considered hers. She penned down her answer. Losing Murtasim.

"Drumroll, please!" The room was filled with a palpable anticipation as Rumi cued them in for the reveal. It was a scene straight out of a rom-com, with Hamza, Maryam, and Arslan humorously drumming on the table.

As they turned their boards around, the familiar gasps and chuckles rang out.

"AGAIN?" Arslan's laughter was joined by a chorus of awwws from Rumi, Maryam, and Anila. Maa Begum nodded, a knowing smile on her face. Meerab looked over at Murtasim, his board displaying the same words, it made her heart skip a beat - losing me.

The shared jubilation in their wins was palpable as Rumi announced with a squeal, "Our groom is two for two! How exciting. Hopefully the next question, by the gorgeous Mrs. Anila Ahmed, will stump Murtasim! Go for it, Mama!"

Anila Chachi's question sent a delightful frisson of anticipation through Meerab. The familiar, tender smile gracing her face as she asked. "Over the past few years, I have caught Meerab humming one tune over and over again, and singing it in the shower, what song is it?"

A soft giggle escaped Meerab, the corners of her mouth twitching up in an irresistible smile. The song was a melodic tune that echoed the fond memories they shared. It was a melody they had sung together, with all their hearts, on a long drive back from a concert of their favorite singer, one she had begged to be taken to, and he had finally relented - a cherished memory that was etched in her. heart. She knew he would get this.

Rumi's squeal of mock despair, "Oh, they're looking way too confident about this one, let us see!" was a perfect backdrop to the excitement that bubbled up within her.

They all collectively gasped when they turned the boards around, causing Murtasim to look back at her, showing her his board. She nodded and squealed happily. They had picked the same song – Jeena Jeena by Atif Aslam.

Murtasim's eyes met hers, a playful wink lighting them up, sending a ripple of giggles through her. His confidence, his joy in their shared victories, it was infectious and so incredibly endearing.

"I thought these questions were supposed to be hard!" Arslan whined.

Anila Chachi nodded. "I thought he wouldn't know that one since they weren't even in the same city then."

"Did someone leak our questions?" Rumi whined, her suspicious gaze flickering between Maryam and Armaan.

"Why would you assume it's us?" Armaan sighed.

"I am just that good, Rumi, go on, that's 3 for 3 now." Murtasim's cheeky confidence filled her with an overwhelming affection. She longed to be by his side, to press a loving kiss to his cheek and share in his joy. The distance between them, necessary for the game, felt too much.

Rumi's next announcement, "Okay! For our fourth question, Armaan Bhai!" created a lull of anticipation that was promptly filled by Armaan's thoughtful voice. "If Meerab could have dinner with any person, alive or dead, who would it be?"

Meerab paused, contemplating the depth of the question. It felt like an unplumbed well that she hadn't dipped her bucket into before. Unlike many others, she didn't harbor a fascination for celebrities, historical figures or politicians. So, who would she choose?

Suddenly, her thoughts swerved off the well-trodden path of the famous and the celebrated. She penned down her answer, hoping that Murtasim would resonate with the honesty and simplicity of her choice.

The moment of truth was upon them as Rumi excitedly demanded, "Okay, turn 'em over!"

The surprised exclamations that rang out, the amused disbelief evident in Hamza's voice as he blurted, "NO WAY! SHE WAS THINKING HARD ABOUT THAT ONE!" sent a flurry of butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

As she revealed her answer - my mother - her eyes were instinctively drawn towards Murtasim. The look of understanding and affection in his eyes, as he held up his board to reveal Nazia Chachi, washed over her like a warm wave. It was as if he had read her deepest thoughts, plucked out the most precious one, and laid it out in the open.

Overwhelmed with emotion, her eyes welled up, not with sorrow but with a love for the man who knew her heart like no other. She looked at him, the words I love you forming soundlessly on her lips.

His response was immediate. The smile that tugged at his lips and the soft I love you too he mouthed back felt like a silent pledge, a promise of love and understanding that would last a lifetime. And in that moment, she was convinced, beyond any shred of doubt, that they would win this game. For it was a game of love and understanding, and they had that in abundance.

"Four for four!" Rumi exclaimed, the undercurrent of playful exasperation in her voice causing everyone to chuckle. "Hamza, bab - " Meerab snickered as Rumi stopped short of calling him baby in front of her parents and Maa Begum, everyone else snickered too as she caught herself. "-your turn."

"Let's switch it up...how about Meerab answers a question about Murtasim this time? But the point goes to Murtasim if she gets it right?" He suggested.

Meerab shrugged and nodded, like everyone else did.

"Okay then." Hamza chuckled. "Meerab, if Murtasim could travel anywhere in the world for a month, where would he go and WHY?"

There were two choices for the answer that she knew of. The rainforests of Borneo, and South Africa's Kruger National Park. His love for wildlife photography had made those places come to the top of his list rather than the usual European destinations. But he had stopped his hobby a long time ago, and she wondered if they were still his choices. She quickly scribbled down South Africa's Kruger National Park to photograph the big five, going with her gut.

"Time!" Rumi said. "That one seemed, hard, good job, Hamza!" She said dreamily, looking at Hamza like he hung the stars causing Arslan to make a retching sound. "Okay, Meerab let's see if you're on it like your husband usually is."

When time was called, the tension in the room was palpable. As Meerab turned her board around to reveal her answer, the word 'husband' slipped from Rumi's lips, sending a wave of pure joy through her.

"NO WAY!" Hamza and Rumi groaned as Murtasim turned around looking at her board, a grin breaking out on his face as he showed her his. South Africa – Big Five.

"What's the big five, Meerab? You don't get the point until you can name at least four!" Hamza challenged.

A surge of panic rushed through Meerab. The 'big five' were the animals Murtasim said were at the park, ones he was most eager to photograph, but could she name them?

Her gaze darted towards Murtasim, seeking assurance. He smiled and nodded, making her heart flutter. "You can do it, Meerab, think slowly." He encouraged.

"HEY! No talking to her yet, bhai!" Maryam teased, causing a ripple of laughter in the room.

But Meerab was focused. She went through her mental list. "Lions, leopards, and elephants for sure." She said, knowing he wanted to photograph those animals and talked of South Africa as being the place.

She thought of all she knew about Africa and animals. Tigers? But those were in India so why would he want to go to Africa. But then again, so were elephants. She thought back to the magazines that used to arrive at the house every month, filled with wildlife photographs. "RHINOCEROS!" She yelled as it came to her, hoping it was right.

"She's right." Armaan said, waving his phone in the air.

"Damn! We almost had her." Rumi pouted.

"What's the fifth one?" She asked as Murtasim smiled at her, looking awed.

"A cape buffalo." He answered and she nodded, she would have never gotten that one.

The game's lively energy was heightened even more with Rumi's dramatic lament. "That's five for five, we won't get to my question if they get the next one!" A collective chuckle rippled through the room as she gestured to Maryam to take the lead.

Maryam exuded a degree of confidence that sent a pang of anticipation through Meerab. Of all the people in the room, Maryam had spent the most time with both her and Murtasim, observing their quirks and remembering the details of their shared history. She was definitely someone to be wary of in this game.

"One time, you – because she was mean to you –you snapped the head off one of Meerab's Barbie dolls. What was the doll's name?" Maryam asked, a triumphant grin spreading across her face.

The laughter that burst from Meerab was one of genuine amusement and surprise, "Maryam!" She exclaimed. Her mind flashed back to that particular incident, but the details were hazy. She had been around eight, and the memory was wrapped in the soft blur of childhood innocence. She couldn't recall the doll's name, which put her at a disadvantage.

"She had like 14 different dolls," Murtasim whined in protest, his consternation clear. Meerab observed him as he hunched over the board but didn't write anything. Her heart fluttered as she watched him pout over not being able to answer a question.

Her thoughts ricocheted off the walls of her mind, seeking the answer. She didn't know what Murtasim might write down, and she didn't remember the correct answer either. However, her intuition led her to the name 'Maya', which she hastily scribbled down. A soft whisper of hope guided her hand as she wrote, silently praying Murtasim had arrived at the same guess.

"Time!" Rumi declared melodiously, snapping Meerab out of her thoughts. "Turn 'em around!"

There was a triumphant yell from Arslan. "HAH! They're different."

Once again, Murtasim turned towards Meerab, showing her his board. The name Mia glared back at her, and she groaned in disappointment. "Nooo, that's so close!" She sighed, a playful whine creeping into her voice. His answer was only a single letter off from hers. Curious about the actual answer, she asked Maryam, "What's the right answer?"

"Maya!" Maryam laughed heartily, sharing a victorious high-five with Arslan. Meerab's guess had been right, but their answers hadn't matched.

"But how did you know? You were like six." Meerab queried, her brows furrowing in bewilderment. How had Maryam managed to remember such an obscure detail?

"I found her in a box in the store room, her name was on it!" Maryam revealed, her grin widening. Meerab chuckled, shaking her head at the delightful absurdity of it all.

Rumi, draped in her typically dramatic flair, lamented. "Okay, now we're at 5 out of 6, we should have let Maryam write all the questions." The tension of the game was momentarily shattered by her playful threat to Arslan. "If he gets this right and I can't ask my question, I will kill you in your sleep."

The room reverberated with the chastising cry of Anila Chachi, "Rumi!"

But Rumi, unphased, continued, "What? I am just trying to scare him."

There was a strong sense of camaraderie in the air as Arslan, undeterred by Rumi's theatrics, asserted with a grin, "It's okay, I got this." Meerab felt a twinge of apprehension when he shot her a mischievous look before revealing his question. "What is Meerab's biggest weakness?" His subsequent laughter filled the room, setting everyone on edge. His warning, "If you answer this wrong, she's going to be mad...actually if you write down anything she's going to be mad," made her roll her eyes.

Unbothered by Arslan's jest, she confidently scribbled down the word 'impulsivity'. A glance to the side revealed Murtasim writing something quickly on his board. The room held its breath as they held up their boards even before Rumi could call the time.

The room erupted with laughter at Rumi's exaggeratedly agonized yell. "ARSLAN I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!"

Despite the general merriment, Arslan defended himself. "I thought he wouldn't answer because she'd be mad!"

Armaan, seizing the moment, made a jesting comment towards Hamza, "You get to be dumb, he's definitely dumber," further amplifying the room's mirth.

In the midst of the laughter, Murtasim's voice cut through the room, "So, unhand my shoes so I can take my bride away."

The request, however innocent, earned him a cautionary warning from Maa Begum. "Murtasim."

"Only for the muh dikhai, I haven't given her a present yet. You can take her away after." He negotiated quickly with his mother. She nodded, for she too had a present for him, finding it unfair that only he had to get her one.

But there was a hiccup in his plan – a pouting, pleading Rumi, still demanding her turn to ask a question. "Pleaseeeeeeee." She begged, shifting her pleading gaze to Meerab.

Her charming whine broke through Meerab's resolve, and she agreed. "Fine, go ahead."

Rumi's squeal of delight broke the silence as she immediately launched into her question. "If I ask either of you when you actually fell in love, you'll say it happened somewhere along the way. But how old do you think Meerab was when she realized she needed you in her life forever?"

The room fell into a contemplative silence at the depth of Rumi's question, the lighthearted game taking on a turn. Rumi, however, was nearly vibrating with anticipation, her gaze flickering between Meerab and Murtasim as she eagerly awaited their responses.

Murtasim looked taken aback, the weight of the question seeming to steal his breath for a moment. He picked up the marker, but it hovered over the board as he struggled to form a response. "I don't know." His voice carried a note of uncertainty as he turned to Rumi. "Fifteen?" He ventured.

Meerab felt a hot prickle at the corners of her eyes, memories from long ago flooding back. "Four." She admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. The table fell silent, the weight of her admission hanging heavily in the air.

The surprise in Murtasim's eyes was palpable, an unspoken question simmering beneath his gaze. Later, she silently promised him. He gave her a small, understanding nod.

Rumi's gaze darted between them, her curiosity sparked by their silent exchange. Meerab, however, shook her head subtly. She knew discussing this now would open a floodgate of emotions she wasn't prepared to face in front of everyone.

Eventually, the room resumed its cheerful chatter, the somber moment replaced by the joyous celebration of their union. Meerab migrated to sit beside Murtasim, their hands entwined beneath the table, away from the prying eyes of others. As the sky darkened and laughter rang around them, she leaned into Murtasim, resting her head against his shoulder, stealing bites of dessert off his plate.

Her curiosity piqued, Meerab leaned in closer to her husband, her voice barely a whisper as she asked. "What did you get me?" The traditional 'muh dikhai' gift was usually a piece of jewelry given by the groom's family to the bride, she knew that Maa Begum would present her with either the kangans or the ring she wore, as a symbol of her status in the family. But she wondered what Murtasim had to give her.

Murtasim glanced down at her, his eyes twinkling with a secret joy. "It's a surprise." He said, a hint of mischief playing on his lips. He seemed to relish the moment, the chance to keep her in suspense just a bit longer.

A playful pout formed on Meerab's lips at his evasive response. Anticipation bubbled up within her, making her heart flutter. She wanted to rush through everything else, all the remaining formalities, and leap straight to the moment when she could unwrap her present, unveil his surprise. But she also understood that anticipation was half the fun, and so she decided to be patient, letting the excitement build up as they enjoyed the rest of the joyous occasion – so different than what she had imagined for her nikaah but perfect in all the right ways.

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A/N: When I tell you I sobbed (happily) throughout this chapter, lord. Would love to hear your thoughts! What was your favourite part? What do you think is going to be Murtasim's muh dikhai gift for his Meerab?