A/N: I know it's been a while for which I apologize - life has been busy lately. But I am back with a super long chapter. 21 pages. Over 10K words. Hope y'all enjoy it!

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Meerab's heart was hammering in her chest, each beat a reminder of the fact that they had just been interrupted, caught while kissing in the car. "I thought you said the windows were tinted!" she whispered. Her voice was frantic as she hastily retreated from Murtasim's embrace.

"They are... but not if you stand that close," Murtasim replied, a wry smile in his voice that didn't quite hide the tinge of his own embarrassment.

"MURTASIM!" The name came out as a half-laugh, half-reproach as she thumped his arm, her cheeks burning with a warmth that rivaled the intensity of their prior closeness. She shuffled back into her own seat, smoothing down her clothes in a quick attempt to regain her composure. "This is so embarrassing."

"We're married, it's not a big deal," Murtasim said in an attempt to ease the tension, but Meerab could only think that being married did not make the public spectacle any less red-faced for her.

He exited the car with a casual air, as if extricating himself from such a situation was an everyday occurrence. He acknowledged his friends with a nod, blatantly disregarding their snickers as he circled the car to open the door for Meerab. Meerab caught herself, as she often did, staring at Murtasim, marveling at how the simplest actions, like him walking around the car while running his fingers through his hair, could captivate her so completely.

"Could have just used the same door, she was in your lap," Shahzain quipped, his comment slicing through the air like a blade, sharpened with humor as the door opened and Murtasim helped her out.

Meerab glared at the snickering group, her gaze fierce, though inwardly she was grateful for the normalcy the teasing provided, allowing her to anchor herself in the banter rather than her embarrassment.

"Bro, you have something right here," Saad said, motioning around his lips while Salar chuckled in his arms, even though he likely had no clue what had everyone laughing.

The implication was clear: remnants of their passionate kiss were on display for all to see. Meerab's fingers, delicate and precise, reached out to Murtasim's face, her touch feather-light as she sought to erase the evidence. As her fingers brushed against his lips, Meerab's eyes inadvertently met Murtasim's, and she found a twinkle of mischief there. There was something about Murtasim's smile that lit up his eyes, making Meerab's heart flutter every single time she was on the receiving end of it.

She could feel the heat radiating from his skin, the slight stubble under her fingertips, and the tickle of her own heartbeat in her ears as she meticulously wiped away the red lipstick. The red smudge came away, leaving a clean slate but doing nothing to cool the flush that continued to burn on her own cheeks.

The group's banter swirled around her like a whirlwind she was trying to steady herself against.

Rani's snicker punctuated the air, a light sound but it landed heavily on Meerab's ears. "I was telling them to wait, I wanted to see how long it would take for you two to notice," she confessed, amusement lacing her words.

Dua's response was immediate, a gentle whack against Rani's shoulder, a silent reprimand for the invasion of privacy. Meerab found a grateful smile twitching at her lips—Dua always understood.

"Soooo, Meerab..." Shahryar's voice started to rise, a teasing lilt to his words, but he didn't get far.

Murtasim's glare was a palpable thing, a silent sentinel rising in her defense.

"If you tease her about it, I will kill all three of you," Murtasim's voice was calm, but the intent was clear as crystal. Meerab's heart gave a small leap. His protectiveness wrapped around her like a warm blanket, and her smile deepened into something more heartfelt.

"Love DOES change a man," Shahryar sighed dramatically, "you'd kill us for her."

Murtasim's simple nod, "In a heartbeat," was not just an affirmation for his friends but a silent promise to Meerab. The words curled around her, a comforting shroud that made her smile. His protectiveness wasn't overbearing, but rather a subtle, reassuring presence that made Meerab feel safe and valued in a way she had never experienced before.

"Me too." Saad and Shahzain echoed the sentiment, their nods a chorus of brotherly solidarity. They all understood the depths of what it meant to stand for someone you loved.

"This is why marriage scares me," Shahryar joked, a hint of mock terror in his voice, eliciting laughter from the group.

"Let's go before Shahzain gets hangry," Saad pivoted the conversation, his words drawing chuckles and steering the group toward their planned goal.

Meerab looked up at Murtasim, feeling an unexpected tightness in her chest at the thought of parting from him, even for a short while. She knew it was clingy, the way her heart yearned to stay close to him, but in that moment, she couldn't bring herself to care. The sight of him, especially today, in his crisp black dress shirt that accentuated his strong build, made leaving him seem like the last thing she wanted.

She longed to remain by his side, to drink in the sight of him, to get lost in the playful banter, the stolen kisses, the teasing remarks he made.

As their eyes met, Murtasim's gaze held a depth of understanding and warmth. It was as if he could read the reluctance in her.

"Did you just pout at him because you're separating?" Shahzain's voice cut through her reverie, the teasing note in his voice crystal clear.

"Nahi," Meerab's voice was steadier than she felt, clearing her throat as if to dispel the vulnerability that had momentarily surfaced. She hadn't meant to pout, but she wasn't surprised that she did.

"Begum, how come I don't get the same treatment?" Shahzain's mock complaint, aimed at Rani, pulled a smile onto Meerab's face.

"Because you're annoying and you don't kiss me like that," Rani's retort came quick and sharp, yet the twinkle in her eye betrayed her fondness.

Shahzain, with feigned indignation, turned to Murtasim and punched his arm. "Thanks for making me look bad," he grumbled.

Murtasim's shoulders moved in a nonchalant shrug. "You do a fine job of looking bad yourself, I am sure," he shot back.

"Let's go before this turns into a long thing," Rani interjected, her tone suggesting both amusement and a need to move on. She reached for Meerab's hand, the other firmly on the stroller guiding Aaminah. "Bye boys," she called out over her shoulder, steering Meerab away as she shot a smile at Murtasim before turning.

"Bye Meerab," the chorus from Shahzain, Shahryar, and Saad followed, lighthearted and teasing, culminating in a chorus of exaggerated kissing noises that echoed behind them.

The flush on Meerab's cheeks deepened at the sound of the kisses—Salar's innocent imitation the most piercing in its sincerity. Murtasim's shut up, sharp and protective, cut through the humor for a moment—his warning clear even to Meerab without looking.

She could almost see Murtasim's hand as it landed on the backs of his friends, the "ow" from Shahryar attesting to its strength. "Ow, Murtasim, what the fuck," his voice carried, tinged with shock and a hint of real pain.

Another whack sounded, Saad's voice this time, firm and authoritative followed their steps, "Don't swear in front of my child." The discipline in his tone made her giggle, a light, effervescent sound that bubbled up from the lightness she felt amidst the banter.

"They were always like that," Dua's voice, laughing alongside her.

The crisp clink of cutlery and the murmur of conversation surrounded them as Dua guided Meerab and Rani to a quaint cafe, its cozy ambiance welcoming.

Rani flopped into her chair with a melodramatic sigh. "I am starving," she declared, before shooting Meerab a conspiratorial grin. Glancing at the stroller where Aaminah slumbered peacefully, she teased, "While you were busy eating Murtasim's face, I was dying."

Dua groaned at the words, and Meerab, her cheeks aflame with a fresh wave of blush, felt the heat rise to her forehead.

"Looks like he started yesterday too," Rani observed with a pointed look toward Meerab's neck, causing Meerab's hand to fly to the spot instinctively, her pulse quickening at the thought of being so exposed.

Her eyes stretched wide with alarm. She had taken such care to cover any marks. How had this happened?

Amusement twinkled in Dua's eyes. "You have to get a color correcting kit, and use the greenish color before the concealer," she advised with a knowing wink.

"Seems like Murtasim had a good start to his birthday, huh?" Rani's eyebrows danced with mirth.

"Rani, stop!" Dua chided, playfully hitting her arm, but Meerab was only half-listening now, lost in her own tumultuous thoughts. Was it really that obvious?

Rani's laughter peeled again, light and infectious. "Look at her, blushing like she just did the deed for the first time."

The comment was meant as jest, but it struck a chord. A part of Meerab wanted to deflect with humor, to maintain a facade. Yet, the honesty in the company of Dua and Rani, the unspoken acceptance and understanding they offered, was refreshing. It felt... safe.

Her mind drifted to the friends she had left behind in Karachi, a group that now seemed a world away, not just in distance but in understanding. They were friends tied to a past version of herself, a Meerab unmarked by the complexities of her life, of marriage and the unanticipated depth of emotions it could entail.

With Rani and Dua, it was different. They weren't entangled in the intricate web of circumstances that had led Meerab to this point in her life. It was rare, she realized, to find people who could look at the fragments of your life and read the story without needing to rearrange the pieces to fit their own narrative.

As Rani's words hung in the air, teasing yet tender, Meerab noticed how they chipped away at her well-curated defenses. Their ease was infectious, their empathy unforced. Talking to them was like slipping into a conversation with old friends—natural, comforting. The laugh lines around Rani's eyes, Dua's soft, understanding gaze—it all urged Meerab to open up, to share the truth she had cradled close to her chest.

"I did..." Meerab's voice was soft, a tentative admission into the space of their newfound friendship.

Confusion etched Dua and Rani's faces. "Did what?" Rani probed, leaning forward.

"Did the deed for the first time," Meerab clarified, her voice gaining a thread of newfound confidence.

"NO WAY!" The astonishment in Rani's voice was palpable, while Dua's reaction was less dramatic, a testament to her more measured nature.

"You've been married for months, right?" Dua asked.

Meerab nodded, the movement a silent affirmation.

"And you love each other?" Dua's inquiry was gentle, inviting.

"Now, we do." The words were simple, but they carried the weight of a journey that had started from duty and arrived at devotion.

Rani was visibly trying to reconcile the revelation with the likely ease she had seen between them. "But the way you are around each other...you act more like people who've been together for years," she said, her voice a mix of wonder and curiosity.

"Why?" It was Dua's turn to probe deeper.

"It's complicated," Meerab said, the words laced with the shadow of a story yet to be told.

"Oh no, you don't get to stop now," Rani's tone was firm. "We're going to order food, stuff our faces, and you're going to tell us everything." She flagged down a waiter with an expert wave, setting the stage for an afternoon of confessions.

The cafe around them hummed with life, the scent of coffee and freshly baked pastries mixing in the air. Meerab, surrounded by the clutter of half-eaten sandwiches and ceramic mugs still warm to the touch, found herself unburdening months of pent-up confusion and pain to the women before her.

She spoke candidly of the tumultuous whirlwind that had uprooted her life—the revelation of her parentage that had left her feeling like a ship adrift, the stark ultimatum that led her to Murtasim, and the contract she had used as a flimsy shield against the unexpected storm of emotions he elicited. Her voice was steady as she recounted the way Murtasim, a man she had pegged all wrong, dismantled her defenses, brick by brick, with an unexpected gentleness that belied his stern exterior.

Meerab's hands moved expressively as she described the hurricane named Haya—how her machinations had nearly razed the fragile structure of trust she and Murtasim were building. The conversation shifted, a pivot that led Meerab to recount her own confrontation with Rohail, and how that moment had been a watershed, a line in the sand that had marked the end of tolerance for double standards and her silence about the thoughts and feelings swirling inside her. Rani's eyes sparkled with anger—anger not at her, but for her.

Yet, even as she spoke of near ruin, her lips curved at the memory of their reconciliation—the slow, delicate dance of coming back to each other, and the realization that happiness had been a silent growth between them.

Rani and Dua, they offered not just their ears, but their hearts. They nodded and interjected with words that wrapped around Meerab like a comforting blanket, validating her actions or agreeing with her admittance of how she had been wrong at times. When Dua shared her own revelation of adoption and the ensuing turmoil, Meerab felt the kinship tighten. It was a shared ache, an understanding of roots being yanked without warning and the journey to plant new ones.

Meerab exhaled a deep, measured breath, the kind that felt like the release of a burden long carried. Her fingers traced the edge of her coffee mug, the warmth of the ceramic bleeding into her skin, a stark contrast to the chill of past memories. "I was angry for a long time...but I have made peace with it now, it brought me Murtasim after all," she confessed, her voice low but clear, an audible representation of her internal reconciliation.

Rani, who often held a lightness in her eyes, regarded Meerab with a rare seriousness. "You dealt with it better than I would have," she said, acknowledging the strength it took to navigate such treacherous emotional waters.

Meerab's shoulders lifted in a half-hearted shrug, a physical manifestation of her doubt and self-critique. "I felt like I dealt with it all wrong, but I was so...angry." The word hung between them, dense and heavy.

Dua leaned in, her expression softening, "It wasn't anger, you were hurting." It was a correction offered gently, an attempt to reframe the narrative that Meerab had clung to. "Have you spoken to your parents since?" She asked.

The question lingered in the air, prompting Meerab to consider her fractured family ties. "Not properly...I think out of everyone, their actions hurt the most." The words were a dam breaking, allowing the truth of her pain to flood the conversation.

Dua's head tilted in understanding, her own experiences perhaps mirroring the complexities of Meerab's feelings. "Makes sense, you trusted them the most... do you want to fix things with them?"

Meerab's nod was tentative, an affirmation mixed with uncertainty. "I should...but where do I start? I think maybe that too will come slowly, like fixing things with Murtasim did." Her eyes moved away, gazing through the cafe's window as if the path forward might be found in the bustling street beyond.

Rani's voice cut through Meerab's contemplations. "Seeing you both yesterday, and just the effort you put into his birthday dinner and even the way you two were today - I would have never guessed that was just a while ago." There was an element of awe in her tone, an appreciation for the strides that had been made.

"Me too." Meerab's smile was a soft curve of lips, not just a polite gesture but a sign of genuine contentment, realizing how far they had come. "You caught us at a good time," she admitted, and there was truth there—a snapshot of happiness amidst the turmoil, a moment where the pieces fit, and the picture was complete.

Rani exhaled, a breath heavy with the weight of personal history. "It all works out if it's meant to be, I hated the idea of marrying Shahzain when it was first proposed," she divulged, leaning back in her chair as though distancing herself from the memory.

Meerab's surprise was immediate, "Really?" The word shot out, punctuated by genuine astonishment.

Rani nodded, a rueful twist to her lips. "Hm, I grew up in a feudal family, and I told you I was sent abroad as a safety precaution. When I came back, my family wanted me to marry into another feudal family. I thought they had absolutely lost it; there was no way I was going to put my kids through the same... nonsense."

Meerab's gaze flickered over to Dua, catching the tail end of a snort that turned into a stifled laugh.

Dua giggled, then shared, "She sent like three different people in her stead to scare Shahzain off, but he took one look at them and realized they weren't Rani right away."

Meerab couldn't help but laugh, imagining the scene. "And then?" she prompted, leaning forward with piqued interest.

"I met him, and he wasn't so bad. More easygoing than I expected, not perfect, but so different from my own father and uncles, so I gave in eventually. Anyway, the point is that I get it. I wouldn't have thought to marry someone like him either because he seemed so different after growing up like I did," Rani continued. "The feudal lord types are usually the last ones I would have considered, but these two," she gestured to an invisible Shahzain and Murtasim, "don't fit the stereotypes, I guess."

Meerab nodded, her own preconceived notions having been upended by her experiences with Murtasim. As she was about to speak, Rani's face lit up with a mischievous glint.

"Wait, before I forget then...did you have a good time after we left?" Rani wiggled her eyebrows playfully, eliciting laughter from Dua.

A flush of warmth spread across Meerab's cheeks as she nodded, her gaze dropping to her hands.

"So, was he?" Rani pressed, a grin spreading across her face.

"What?" Meerab responded, momentarily lost.

"Good in bed," Dua clarified nonchalantly, taking a sip of her lemonade.

The heat in Meerab's face deepened, but she managed a subtle nod, hoping to convey the privacy of her feelings without words.

"I knew it!" Rani snickered triumphantly. "So, did you?" Her curiosity was insatiable.

"What?" Meerab's voice was a pitch higher, confused again.

"See the stars?" Dua interjected, her eyes flicking to Rani with an unspoken conversation passing between them. "It's normal if you didn't, the first time is usually—"

But Rani's squeal, much too loud for the intimacy of their conversation, cut her off as Meerab nodded. "Damn, Murtasim," Rani exclaimed with delight.

Dua hummed, a sound rich with unspoken knowledge and understanding, while Meerab, feeling her privacy slipping away under their probing but friendly banter, averted her gaze, her thoughts drifting to the privacy of the moments she shared with Murtasim. The conversation around her faded into a background murmur as Meerab's mind lingered on the softness of Murtasim's voice, the security of his arms, and the depth of connection that had grown between them.

"What else did you get Murtasim for his birthday apart from your body?" Rani teased, a playful smirk adorning her features.

Dua exhaled a long, suffering sigh. "I swear I can't take her anywhere," she said, rolling her eyes but with a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Meerab let out a light laugh, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I got him a camera," she began, the shyness in her tone contrasting with the confident decision behind the gift. "I don't know if you know...but he wanted to be a wildlife photographer. Since that didn't happen...and since we're going to South Africa for our honeymoon, I thought the camera would be perfect. And our room was just renovated, so, I also set up a wall of empty picture frames for him to fill," she finished, the glow in her cheeks deepening.

Both Dua and Rani responded with an audible "aw," touched by the sentiment.

"I am calling you for ideas for presents from now on," Rani declared, shaking her head with a mix of envy and admiration.

Dua nodded vigorously. "Me too, that's the cutest!"

Rani then changed the subject with excitement. "You have to shop for your honeymoon!"

"I have stuff," Meerab replied, as if already anticipating the onslaught of fashion advice.

"No, you need new dresses, jumpsuits, coordinated sets, trust me!" Dua interjected earnestly. "You won't get many chances to wear things like that here, so take the opportunity when you can!"

Rani nodded in agreement, then her lips curled into another grin, one that held a mischievous glint Dua seemed to recognize all too well. She groaned before Rani even spoke, anticipating the forthcoming remark.

"Not that you should be wearing clothes much on your honeymoon anyway," Rani quipped, her grin broadening at the anticipated reaction.

Meerab's face was now a portrait of embarrassment and amusement, a combination that seemed to only encourage her friends' teasing.

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The four men gathered in the serenity of a patio, enjoying burgers while overlooking a small garden, Salar was sound asleep again by his father who finally leaned back in his chair, sharing a thought that had clearly been on his mind. "You know, Meerab deserves a really nice present for bringing us all together after such a long time."

At the mention of her name, Murtasim couldn't help the smile that spread across his face, an involuntary reaction that had become all too familiar lately.

Shahzain chuckled, nudging Murtasim with his elbow. "Look at him, guys. Have you ever seen him smile like that? Man is in deep."

"Shut up." Murtasim groaned, knowing they'd tease him endlessly about it.

Shahryar added with a grin, "It's written all over your face, bro."

Saad, watching the scene unfold, chimed in, "You should've heard her on the phone, planning out his birthday like she was crafting a peace treaty. The excitement in her voice...yaar, she's just as smitten. It made Dua and I so happy to hear from her, and meeting her yesterday, I am happy for you. I really thought you'd marry some rich doormat your mother picked."

"My mother did technically pick her." Murtasim muttered.

Shahryar snorted. "She probably knew you had it bad for her too." He teased.

"I did not." He defended, even though he wasn't quite so sure himself anymore.

"Please, you never shut up about how annoying she was." Shahryar laughed.

"And we all suspected she was perfect for you." Saad teased.

"For anyone that could get a reaction out of you was special, you ignored everyone else."

"Hindsight is always 20/20." Murtasim rolled his eyes.

"She's still the same person for the most part I am guessing. I can prove that she's perfect for you. What did she get you for your birthday?" Shahzain inquired, leaning forward with genuine interest.

Before Murtasim could respond, Shahryar snorted, "You saw them in the car, I am sure you know what she got him."

The jibe earned Shahryar a whack from Murtasim, prompting a dramatic cry from Shahryar, "My heart, it breaks!"

"Shut up, yaar, Murtasim, what'd she get you?" Saad asked.

After a moment, Murtasim's expression softened as he answered, "She got me a professional camera. And unveiled a whole wall filled with empty frames in our newly renovated room. She wants me to fill them with photos from our honeymoon in Africa...she picked a wildlife reserve."

A collective realization dawned upon the group, and the teasing ceased. They all knew of his abandoned dream of becoming a wildlife photographer, a dream sidelined by responsibilities and reality.

Saad's voice was respectful, almost awed, "Damn, she really loves you, man."

Shahryar, no longer jesting, added, "I can't even tease you about that. She's giving you back a piece of yourself, Murtasim. You lucked out. Big time."

Shahzain nodded, "See, she is perfect for you, she loves you."

He wondered if his face showed his turmoil because Shahzain and Saad looked at each other before Shahzain asked, "what's wrong?"

"She won't say it." Murtasim muttered.

"Say what?" Shahzain asked.

"That she loves me." He sighed.

Saad looked confused. "Why? She clearly does, we've met her twice and I've spoken to her just a handful of times and it's so obvious."

Sharyar and Shahzain nodded.

He shrugged. "I know she loves me, but she won't say it, or it's like she tries but something holds her back." Murtasim muttered, remembering the struggle on her face when she tried to utter the words her eyes said so loud but failed.

"Did she not want to marry you?" Saad asked, confused.

Murtasim sighed, nodding, a genuine note of regret lacing his breath. "It wasn't exactly the wedding of the century," he began, his fingers tapping on the wooden surface. "It was... complicated."

Shahryar's jesting facade softened, "So it was a rush job?"

Murtasim nodded, and then, seeing their genuinely curious faces, he started unfolding the story. "It was a mess of family drama. For reasons unknown to me they all started pushing for us to get married. It didn't make sense. And then she, and I, found out that she's actually my Chacha-Saab's daughter, he gave her away when her mother died giving birth to her. She went through a lot..." He muttered, remembering how her tears had broken him. "She hated everyone around her, including me, but in having nowhere to go, she agreed to marry me...and I agreed because..."

"Because you liked her even then even if you didn't admit it?" Saad prompted.

Murtasim nodded. "I thought we'd be okay, and then she walked out of the wedding, and demanded I sign a marriage contract. And I did with the hope that it would turn into... more. Imagine agreeing to marry someone just because you're cornered and then ending up..." He trailed off, not sure how to articulate the depth of the change in his heart.

"A contract?" Saad leaned back, his brows shooting up. "Like in those cheesy dramas my Dua watches?"

"Yeah," Murtasim admitted, running a hand through his hair. "A piece of paper that was supposed to keep it all business-like, and I was sure it would stay that way because I tried so hard, or I thought I did and she didn't budge."

"Well yeah, she married you out of necessity." Shahryar said.

"But clearly fell in love." Saad muttered.

"So why won't she say it?" Shahzain asked.

"This asshole is hiding something. We need all the pieces to help you solve your woes." Shahryar said, for he always seemed to be able to read him too well.

"Well...there was a hiccup." Murtasim said, clearing his throat. And then he launched into the story of Haya and Rohail, and her reactions, and how he had thought them cute but it hadn't felt the same when he had been confronted with Rohail.

Saad whacked him in the head this time. "You idiot, it's only cute if the woman isn't a threat to her."

"She wasn't!" Murtasim snapped, rubbing his head, Saad hit very hard.

"She lived in your house." Shahryar said, sounding aghast.

"She constantly made moves on you and threatened your wife." Shahzain said.

"Your wife told you repeatedly she didn't like it." Saad said. "Even Shahryar would get that."

"Uncalled for but yes." Shahryar said. "You're worse than Shahzain."

"But I tried my best to be a good husband." Murtasim muttered.

"And she probably saw that too, Murtasim, but look at it from her point of view. She basically lost all the relationships she thought she had, she got married to you, and even that seemed threatened to her because of the presence of your clingy cousin." Saad sighed.

"This Haya sounds like a total psycho bitch, Allah bachaye mujhe aise aurataon sai." Shahryar sighed.

"Okay, yes, it took some time but I dealt with that too. Despite all the pushback, Haya no longer lives with us, she's old news." Murtasim said.

"She's likely just scared to put it into words then." Saad sighed.

Shahryar nodded. "If she doesn't say the words, there is no way of destroying them."

Murtasim arched his eyebrow in confusion.

"She went through a lot, didn't she?" Shahzain asked.

Murtasim nodded.

"The people who always told her they loved her left her, and her love wasn't enough to keep them...she's scared you'll leave too." Shahryar speculated.

"I won't." Murtasim said, never in a million years.

"To her it likely seems like one wrong step and something will collapse, Murtasim." Shahryar said. "Some people get scared when things go from horrible to perfect too quickly, she just needs time to catch up."

"But how do I convince her everything is okay?" Murtasim sighed.

"I don't know, she'll come to it herself, Murtasim. Just give her time."

Murtasim hummed. He was giving her time.

"That woman is in love with you, that much is obvious, so what if she doesn't say the words? It's obvious to everyone, even us." Shahzain added.

It seemed with that comment, their capacity for emotion and thoughtful conversation expired, and they went back to teasing him.

"I can't believe he signed a contract to what was it? Keep it businesslike." Shahryar laughed.

"How did you not make a huge deal out of that? If someone said that happened to you, I would be sure you would make a huge deal out of it and leave the wedding." Shahzain laughed.

"Only she could make him do that." Saad teased. "He wanted to marry her that bad."

"Shut up." Murtasim sighed.

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The late afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the parking lot as Murtasim helped Meerab load the car with her myriad shopping bags. He couldn't help but tease her, "Did you buy the whole mall?" as he lifted another colorful bag.

"Don't peek!" Meerab's voice carried a playful whine as Murtasim's curiosity led him to glance into one of the bags.

"Why?" he chuckled, amused by her mock secrecy.

"Just because," she retorted, a mischievous glint in her eyes that he found utterly charming.

"What impeccable logic," he laughed, securing the trunk before walking her to the passenger side. He opened the door for her, a gesture that had become second nature, and helped her into the car. The click of the door closing behind her was a familiar, comforting sound.

As Murtasim slid into the driver's seat, he turned to Meerab, "Did you have fun?" He was genuinely curious, wanting to know if she enjoyed her time.

She nodded enthusiastically, "It was nice. Did you enjoy catching up with the guys?"

He nodded in response, a slight frown forming as he recalled their ribbing. "Yeah, it was great, even though they were all intent on harassing me."

"About?" Meerab probed gently, her voice laced with curiosity.

"Mostly about losing touch and not inviting them to the wedding," he confessed, his gaze meeting hers.

She tilted her head slightly, "Did you tell them why?"

"Yeah, they figured something was up. So, I told them about how we got married...and how I was scared it wouldn't work out for a while," Murtasim admitted, a hint of vulnerability in his voice.

Meerab hummed in response, surprisingly calm. He had half expected her to be a bit rattled by the revelation.

"You're not mad?" he couldn't help but ask, needing to be sure.

"Why would I be mad? They're your friends," Meerab responded with a shrug, her expression one of genuine confusion. Her response was oddly reassuring.

She then added sheepishly, "Plus, Dua and Rani got a lot out of me too."

Murtasim burst into laughter, the sound echoing in the confines of the car. "We were set up!" he exclaimed.

Meerab's giggle joined his laughter, a sound that Murtasim found himself wanting to hear more often. "That makes sense... I like them, all of them. We should see them more."

Murtasim nodded, his heart swelling with affection for Meerab. She was opening up, not just to him, but to the world around her. It was a beautiful thing to witness.

He took her hand in his, marveling at the warmth of her hand in his, their fingers interlocked, it filled Murtasim with a sense of comfort and belonging. As he glanced at her, a smile touched his lips. "Thank you," he said again, his voice carrying a weight of gratitude.

"They're your friends," Meerab teased, her eyes sparkling with humor.

"But you brought them back," Murtasim insisted. There was a truth in his words that went beyond mere friendship. It was as if she had brought a part of his life back into focus.

She smiled, a gentle, heartwarming expression that eased the lines of his face. "You have cool friends," she admitted.

Murtasim chuckled, "I have always been good at reading people," he boasted playfully, "unlike you."

Her eyes rolled in a teasing response. "I am going to choose to stay quiet so as not to ruin the mood," she declared, her tone light yet pointed.

"Okay, I missed one time," Murtasim sighed, a mock exasperation in his voice. "But I liked you before you liked me," he couldn't resist adding, a playful glint in his eye.

"You're going to rub that in forever, aren't you?" Meerab's pout was half-serious, half-playful.

He nodded emphatically, his eyes locked on hers.

As Murtasim leaned over, intending to steal a kiss, Meerab's hand came up, covering his mouth. "Not here," she whispered, her voice a soft admonishment.

He sighed theatrically. "But it's my birthday," he protested, his tone teasing yet hopeful.

Her smile widened, and she leaned in, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. "Take me home then," she whispered.

Murtasim's heart skipped a beat at her words. He grinned, a wide, genuine smile that lit up his face, and nodded.

---------------------------------------

In the cozy expanse of their walk-in closet, Meerab stood amidst a sea of clothing, her hands flitting through the hangers with a hint of frustration. The suitcase lay open on the island in the middle of the closet, half-packed and waiting.

"No, I don't want to be overdressed and out of touch, what do women wear to village weddings?" Meerab's voice was laced with a mix of exasperation and uncertainty as she sifted through her wardrobe.

"You're going to stand out no matter what you do, Meerab," Murtasim replied, his voice filled with an affectionate truth. He leaned against the island in the middle of the closet, watching her, as he had been for the past hour. "You're so utterly beautiful and you're my wife."

Her sigh was almost audible. "Stop being cute and start being helpful," she protested, though the corners of her lips twitched in a reluctant smile. "Should I ask Maa Begum?"

Murtasim couldn't help but snort at the suggestion. "I don't think my mother understands 'subtle'," he quipped, pushing off from the island and approaching Meerab. His mother wouldn't understand why Meerab was so insistent on blending in and not overdoing things, if she had it her way, she would have put all the jewelry she could find on Meerab's person.

As Murtasim came up behind Meerab, he wrapped his arms around her waist, a gesture as natural as breathing. Resting his chin on her shoulder, he whispered close to her ear, "The pink one." In pink, she looked otherworldly, almost celestial.

As Meerab leaned back into Murtasim, her body fitting seamlessly against his, he felt a subtle shift in her demeanor. The comforting warmth of her presence was a tangible thing, grounding and real. He sensed the tension easing from her shoulders, her frame relaxing as she melted into his embrace. The way she sighed, a soft exhale of contentment, spoke volumes to him.

The hum that resonated from her, vibrating against his chest, was more than just a sound—it was a signal of her comfort, an unspoken acknowledgment of the security she found in his touch. Murtasim cherished these moments, where the simplest contact conveyed the words that she failed to say.

"Hmmmm, the black one," Murtasim suggested next. In black, she held an air of majesty, commanding yet graceful.

Her voice held a playful edge. "Not red?" She teased him.

He chuckled softly, his breath stirring her hair. "You look much too good in red, and everyone will stare at you rather than the bride then," he teased back.

She snorted lightly, a sound that filled him with a sense of joy. "Okay."

Murtasim's gaze lingered thoughtfully over the array of dresses. His fingers brushed against a blackish-brown dress, its fabric rich and elegant, accompanied by an embroidered shawl that promised warmth on cool village nights.

"This one because it gets cold at night," he said, feeling the weight of the fabric between his fingers.

Next, his hand moved to a darker pink dress, its hue deep and enchanting. "This pink one too," he added, imagining how it would look against her skin, enhancing her natural glow.

But it was the red dress that kept drawing his eyes back. Embellished with lace and detailed embroidery, it seemed to capture the essence of her fiery spirit. "This one for me," he declared with a soft chuckle, unable to resist the pull of the vibrant color.

She laughed, a sound that danced around the room and straight into his heart. "That defeats the purpose of picking it out," she teased, her voice light and filled with the warmth that always seemed to envelop him.

He sighed, his voice a gentle murmur filled with adoration. "I love you in red."

"I can tell," she quipped back, her voice filled with mirth and something deeper.

"And yellow," Murtasim continued, his fingers now grazing a deep yellow dress adorned with embroidered flowers.

"I think that's enough," Meerab said, turning within his arms to face him. Her eyes, bright and expressive, looked up into his, and in that moment, Murtasim felt the familiar rush of emotions that always seemed to accompany her presence. He couldn't help but notice every detail—the way her lashes fluttered slightly, the gentle curve of her lips.

Murtasim's eyes glinted with playful mischief as he leaned closer to Meerab, his presence enveloping her. "Don't I get a thank you?" he teased, his voice low and resonant.

Meerab, with a hint of playful intent, rose delicately on her tippy toes. Her aim was clear and simple – a quick, affectionate peck on Murtasim's cheek. As she leaned in, her eyes sparkled with fondness, her lips inching closer to their target.

However, Murtasim, ever the strategist, had a different plan. With a fluid and precise motion, he shifted his stance just as Meerab's lips were about to land on his cheek. In one smooth, calculated turn of his head, he redirected her trajectory.

Their lips met in an unexpected, electrifying collision.

Meerab recoiled almost as quickly as they had connected, a soft gasp escaping her lips as she retreated. Her face, now painted with a beautiful flush of surprise, was a living portrait of her mixed emotions. "Murtasim!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with gentle scolding and barely concealed delight.

His thoughts were entirely focused on her - the way her eyes widened slightly in surprise, the delicate flush of her cheeks, the soft parting of her lips as he decided on a course of action. With a strength that was as much about his emotional certainty as it was physical, he gently lifted her. There was a grace to his movements, a reverence in the way he held her. He placed her on the island, beside the chaos of the open suitcase.

"Murtasim..." Meerab's voice was a soft whisper, laced with a mix of surprise and a hint of excitement. Her eyes, wide and shining, followed his every move, her lips parting slightly in anticipation.

Stepping in between her legs, Murtasim created an intimate circle that shut out the rest of the world. His arms framed her, holding her there, he was close enough to feel the warmth of her breath, to see the flutter of her eyelashes, to hear the subtle changes in her breathing.

"What are you..." Meerab's voice trailed off, but her eyes spoke volumes. There was a spark there, a flicker of delight that Murtasim cherished. He loved how she reacted to him, the way her body leaned towards him, almost instinctively seeking his touch.

His hands rested on the island's surface, a mere breath away from her. He could sense the heat radiating from her, the electric tension of their attraction filling the air around them. Every breath he took was imbued with her essence, drawing him closer.

"Murtasim," she said again, her voice a blend of question and statement. Her expression was one of wonder, a beautiful mix of curiosity and desire. It thrilled him to see her like this, to know that he had the power to evoke such responses in her.

"I helped you pick out six whole outfits," he stated with a mock-serious tone, his eyes locked with hers. "I think I deserve at least eighteen kisses." His lips curved into a teasing smile.

Her laughter rang through the room, light and carefree. "Eighteen? For six outfits?" She shook her head, amusement dancing in her eyes as they flickered between his lips and his gaze, betraying her inner turmoil.

He nodded solemnly, playing along with their flirtatious banter. "Each piece has three parts, a shirt, bottoms, and a dupatta or shawl," he explained, his voice laced with mock gravity.

She rolled her eyes at his logic, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards in a smile. "Seriously, Murtasim?" Her tone was playful, there was a hint of warmth in it.

He nodded. "Yes, and since you didn't give me enough kisses for my birthday yesterday, you owe me like 30 more." He told her, his desire for her was like an unquenchable flame.

"It's not my fault your mother planned a surprise for you," she teased, her voice a melody that danced in his ears.

He leaned in closer, his eyes fixed on her lips that her little tongue flicked out to wet in anticipation. "Haan, but you still owe me," he murmured, closing the gap between them.

The moment their lips met, it was an explosion of raw, unfiltered passion. Murtasim felt the electric tingle of desire coursing through him as their mouths moved in sync, burning and demanding. The air was thick with the scent of their mingled breaths, heavy and heated with longing.

Meerab's lips were soft yet insistent against his, opening just enough to let his tongue slide against hers. The taste of her was intoxicating, a mixture of sweet and something uniquely Meerab that he couldn't get enough of. Her soft moans vibrated against his mouth, a sound that sent shivers down his spine and straight to his core.

His hands gripped her waist, feeling the warmth of her skin through the fabric of her clothing. The sensation of her body pressed against his was overwhelming, filling him with a desire so potent it bordered on pain. Meerab's hands moved with purpose down his back, her nails lightly scraping his skin through his shirt, sending jolts of pleasure that only heightened his need for her.

As the kiss deepened, Murtasim felt himself losing control, his mind clouded with nothing but the need for her. He pressed her back against the island, his body following and hovering over hers, the heat of their bodies colliding in a frenzy of touch and sensation. The sound of their heavy breathing mixed with the soft, wet noises of their kisses, creating a rhythm that matched the pounding of his heart.

Meerab's scent enveloped him, a blend of her shampoo and the lingering fragrance of her perfume, an aroma that he'd come to associate with the warmth of her. The sensation of her beneath him, so willing and responsive, was overwhelming. Every brush of her tongue against his, every sigh that escaped her lips, every arch of her body under his touch was etched into his memory.

His lips began a tantalizing journey from her lips to her neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses. The pretty sounds escaping from her lips, a mix of sighs and soft moans, urged him on, stoking the fire within him.

Meerab looked up at him as he pulled back a little, flushed and thoroughly kissed, her eyes shimmering with need and desire. The sight of her, so wanton and ready for him, was intoxicating.

"Murtasim," she whispered, her voice a blend of desire and urgency. It was all he needed to hear.

His mind was ablaze with desire, every fiber of his being focused on Meerab. He wanted her, not just physically but entirely – every inch, every breath, every heartbeat.

He couldn't resist now, not after getting a taste and learning what it felt like to have her in every sense of the word.

He gazed down at her, seeing in her eyes the reflection of his own burning need.

Murtasim leaned in, about to claim Meerab's lips once more, when an urgent knock at the door interrupted them.

"I swear I am going to kill them all," he muttered under his breath, he briefly debated moving out of the Khan Haveli, years of tradition be damned.

But then, Meerab, sitting up, giggled at his dramatic reaction and he shot the thought away. Her fingers tenderly wiped his lips, a gesture that was both caring and teasing.

The knock sounded again, more insistent this time, pulling them back to reality. "Go," she whispered.

Leaving Meerab in the closet, surrounded by an array of clothes and the chaos of their interrupted moment, Murtasim walked to the door. His heart thudded with a blend of residual excitement and a hint of anger at the sudden intrusion of the outside world.

Opening the door, he found himself face-to-face with his mother's stern expression. Her eyes bore into him, holding a paper that instantly caught his attention.

Before Murtasim could even form a question, his mother thrust the paper towards him, demanding, "What is this?"

His eyes quickly scanned the document, recognizing the emblem of the law school. It seemed to be the acceptance letter for the application Meerab had submitted shortly after he had handed her the application papers for a number of law schools in Hyderabad.

The revelation of her receiving an acceptance so quickly after seeing how nervous she had been when submitting the application filled him with pride. He wished the papers hadn't been intercepted by his mother, that they could have celebrated her accomplishment together before dealing with his mother.

In that moment, he didn't want to deal with the realization that he had overlooked one crucial step in all of it– informing his mother. It had been on his to do list, but he remembered little apart from his wife these days.

Murtasim's heart raced, not out of fear, but a protective instinct for Meerab, knowing that she would hear words he didn't really want her to hear, he'd have rather dealt with his mother alone, saving Meerab from the turmoil. But it was too late then, and he had to respond. "Papers for law school, an acceptance from the looks of it," he stated, his voice steady despite the storm he sensed brewing.

His mother's stern face reflected the traditions they were born into, a world where a woman's role was predefined, limited. "I can read, but what is the meaning of this?" she snapped, her voice laced with disbelief and disapproval.

Murtasim felt Meerab's presence behind him, a reassuring force in the face of his mother's challenge. He had never truly gone against his mother before, the last time he had tried, he had given in and married Meerab despite telling her he wouldn't. But he didn't intend to give up then. "It's simple, Maa, Meerab is going back to school to become a lawyer," he replied, emphasizing each word, making his stance clear.

His mother scoffed, the sound cutting through the air. "Going back to school? Now? You just got married, you should be thinking about children and -"

"That's our choice, Maa," Murtasim interjected firmly, his gaze unwavering.

"So, you're not having children? That's your duty," his mother continued, her glare intensifying.

Murtasim stopped himself from rolling his eyes, a habit he seemed to have picked up from his wife and replied gently, "I never said that. We're still young, that can wait, and –"

"Acha, is she going to be a lawyer or a mother?" Maa Begum's words were sharp, echoing the conventional views that had governed their lives for generations.

Murtasim felt a surge of protectiveness towards Meerab, who he could feel was standing right behind him. "She can be both, Maa," he stated unequivocally.

Murtasim's mother, her expression a mix of frustration and disbelief, rolled her eyes. "She can't, you know this. We've been through this, Murtasim. That's what started all of this," she said, her voice rising. "Women in this house don't spend their days in court dealing with God knows what and –"

Murtasim stood his ground, his voice firm. "Maa, Meerab wants to do this, and she will, I am not asking you, I am telling you," he asserted confidently.

His mother was taken aback for a moment but then managed to continue on. "But Meerab has duties towards this family, towards our role in society – being a Khaani and a mother is hard enough. She hasn't even settled into the role yet and –"

Murtasim interrupted, his tone gentle yet firm. "She has, Maa. You told me yourself that she's doing great. We're going to the village for the wedding happening, she takes care of all the things you've been teaching her, she is with you when anyone visits, she is doing everything you're teaching and telling her to," he explained, trying to bridge the gap between his mother's expectations and Meerab's aspirations.

"But how will she do all of that, go to school, be a wife, a mother, and a daughter-in-law?" his mother questioned, her concern evident in her voice.

"With our help," Murtasim replied simply. His words were calm but carried a weight of determination. "You might not agree with it, but this is what Meerab wants to do, Maa. And I intend to support my wife through it and hope you'll do the same," he said, his stance unyielding.

His mother let out a sigh, a mix of resignation and lingering disapproval.

Murtasim noticed his mother's gaze shift past him, her eyes settling on Meerab who stood a little behind. There was a deep sigh from Maa Begum, one that seemed to carry the weight of a thousand thoughts and unspoken words. She moved gracefully yet with a certain heaviness, taking a seat on the new plush couch in their living room.

As she sat downshe turned to Meerab, who sat beside her on the couch reluctantly, understanding the unspoken plea.

"I am not doing this because I don't want you to be happy, Meerab...it'll be a lot. School, being a wife, a daughter-in-law, and a Khaani...and it might be even harder if you actually want to work. You can't have it all, something has to give," Maa Begum's voice held a note of weary experience.

Meerab opened her mouth to respond, but Maa Begum continued, pouring out her worries. Murtasim could see the years of struggle behind his mother's eyes, the sacrifices she made, and the burdens she bore. "I know how much work it takes to balance things - after Shahnawaz died, I had to do a lot, and it took a lot out of me, it made me a bitter and unhappy person...I wasn't always there for my children, I was miserable, I felt like I aged a hundred years in just years. I just don't want the same thing to happen to you."

Murtasim remained silent, understanding the depth of this moment. This was their battle to fight, their understanding to reach.

Meerab turned fully to face his mother, her expression firm yet gentle. "I know it'll be hard, but...I want at least to try. I've always wanted to be a lawyer. I know you think it's just about going to court and fighting others, but that's not it. There is so much more I can do, things that can help the people who come to us for aid, the very women that we hold court with, as the world changes our word won't be enough, a lot of them need legal help. And I can choose where and how much I want to work. It's not about the money for me..."

Maa Begum interrupted, "Then why do it?"

Meerab paused, her eyes searching for the right words. "It'll make me happy," she said simply. "After everything that happened, I felt like my dreams were taken from me. Doing this will perhaps fix how much that hurt. And when I have a daughter, I want her to see me and think she can do whatever she wants, that I am more than the choices that were made for me. I want the girls in the village who are unhappy to see that women can pursue higher education, have a career... because sometimes you can't rely on other people in life."

Observing the exchange between his mother and Meerab, Murtasim felt a blend of apprehension and hope. He watched as his mother's features, usually so composed and stern, softened slightly, a subtle but significant shift.

"Where's the school?" Maa Begum finally asked, her tone carrying an undercurrent of reluctant acceptance. It wasn't a wholehearted approval, but it was a start, a crack in the wall.

Meerab's response was immediate, her voice carrying a hint of eagerness. "Not too far. Classes are in the mornings, three times a week. Much of it is self-directed learning, and there's a short internship component near the end."

Murtasim felt a swell of pride for Meerab. She handled the conversation with such poise, addressing his mother's concerns while staying true to her goals. The way his mother's demeanor softened, the understanding in her eyes, spoke volumes.

He saw his mother process this information, her eyes thoughtful. "And when do you start?" she inquired further, indicating she was at least considering the idea.

"In mid-September, after we return from South Africa," Meerab replied, her eyes briefly meeting Murtasim's, sharing a silent moment of triumph.

Maa Begum nodded slowly, her gaze lingering on Meerab, perhaps seeing her in a new light. It was a quiet acknowledgment, a subtle bending of her rigid expectations. She didn't protest, but she didn't approve either.

Rather, she shifted the conversation towards the immediate future. "Have you packed for tomorrow?" She asked, smoothly changing the subject.

"We were just packing," Meerab responded, her tone light.

Murtasim stepped in, adding, "We're almost done, just a few last-minute items to sort out."

Maa Begum leaned forward, her eyes holding Meerab's in a steady gaze. "At these village weddings, especially in families we oversee, our presence is more than just ceremonial. You, as a Khaani, have certain responsibilities. People look up to us, not just for support but as an example of conduct."

Meerab listened intently, absorbing every word. Murtasim noticed the slight tilt of Meerab's head indicating her willingness to learn. Murtasim felt a deep sense of contentment seeing the two most important women in his life connecting over their shared responsibilities. Maa Begum's advice was invaluable, coming from years of experience managing their extensive feudal holdings and the social intricacies that came with it.

"You must oversee the welfare of the families in the village, especially those involved in the wedding. Check if they have enough support for the arrangements – from food to decoration. Sometimes, they might be too shy or proud to ask for help." Maa Begum continued.

"During the wedding, your presence will be a symbol of unity and strength for both families. It's important to interact with the guests, ensuring they feel welcomed and respected. If things get overly dramatic, as they sometimes do at weddings, remain calm and composed. Our family is respected, and you must uphold that respect. But remember, empathy is crucial. Be approachable, listen to their concerns, and offer help where you can." Maa Begum's voice was firm yet gentle.

Meerab's expression was one of understanding and acceptance. "What about the women and children? Is there anything specific I should do for them?" she asked thoughtfully.

Maa Begum nodded approvingly. "Yes. Pay special attention to the women – some might need a kind word or assistance with their children. The children are always rowdy, so maybe you can organize some activities for them during the wedding, something to keep them engaged and happy."

"Who should I enlist for help if needed?" Meerab asked, her voice steady but curious.

Maa Begum smiled slightly, a sign of approval at the question. "Raila and Sajjad, they have been with our family for years. They know the ins and outs of these events."

Meerab nodded, taking mental notes. "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you."

Maa Begum's expression softened. "You're part of this family now, Meerab. It's important you understand your role, not just for our sake but for the people who depend on us. It's a lot, I know, but you've done well so far, you'll be fine."

Meerab nodded.

Murtasim watched, his heart swelling with warmth, as his mother reached out to Meerab. In a tender gesture that spoke volumes of the growing bond between them, Maa Begum gently cupped Meerab's face in her hands. The soft pat on Meerab's cheeks by Maa Begum was like a symbolic seal of approval. It was a small, yet significant action that represented a bridge being built over the once turbulent waters of their relationship. Murtasim could see the care and sincerity in his mother's eyes, a look that was mirrored by Meerab's own expression of gratitude and respect.

Murtasim watched his mother leave, feeling the weight of the conversation dissipate, leaving a sense of accomplishment in its wake. As Meerab turned to him, her eyes glowed with admiration and love, something he loved to see. Her gratitude was palpable, and it stirred a warmth in his chest.

She closed the gap between them, her steps light yet purposeful. Rising on her tippy toes, Meerab pressed a gentle kiss on his cheek, her breath a whisper against his skin. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice a soft melody that resonated within him.

His eyebrow arched playfully at her as she stood back down. "I am sure you convinced her," he responded, reaching out to gently brush a stray strand of hair behind her ear, letting his fingers linger on her cheek. There was something about the softness of Meerab's skin, a delicate canvas that seemed to glow under the faintest light, always beckoning his touch.

Meerab's smile widened, radiant and infectious. "But it wouldn't have worked if you weren't so supportive," she countered, her hand finding its way to his chest, resting over his heart. The contact sent a pulse of emotion through him, especially as she leaned in and placed a kiss over where his heart beat, something she had taken to doing a whole lot. "So, thank you." He found himself lost in the depth of Meerab's eyes, those windows to her soul that always shimmered with strength, reminding him of why he fell in love with her.

Murtasim wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a warm embrace. Feeling her body relax against his was a comfort like no other. "Always, Meerab," he whispered, his words a promise and a declaration.

After a moment, he broke the silence with a playful tone. "That was a very lackluster thank you by the way." His hands trailed to the small of her back, pulling her even closer. Her gasp, small and surprised, was a sound he cherished.

"We have to finish packing," she protested lightly, the practicality in her tone at odds with the way her body melted into his.

"We have time," he insisted, his voice a low rumble of affectionate insistence.

"Murtasim," she sighed, a mix of exasperation and fondness.

"I know my name..." he teased, his tone light and teasing.

Her hand playfully whacked his chest, but she nestled her head against him, her body fitting perfectly against his. In that moment, Murtasim felt a profound sense of contentment.

"I am going to need a yes or no, meri jaan," he whispered, the words flowing naturally, a testament to the depth of his feelings.

She drew back slightly, her eyes wide with an endearing blend of astonishment and delight. Murtasim's heart swelled with affection as he gazed at Meerab, her surprise at his endearment painting a beautiful picture of innocence and love. Her eyes, always so expressive, flickered between his, conveying a mix of wonder and happiness.

"What?" he inquired, his voice low and tender, noticing her transfixed gaze.

"You have never called me that before," she murmured softly, a hint of bashfulness tinting her words. Her cheeks were kissed with a subtle blush, adding to her enchanting allure.

"Meri jaan?" he repeated.

She nodded, her eyes locked with his, a world of unspoken emotions swirling within them.

"You don't like it?" He teased, even though her smile already told him she did.

"No, I like it," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath, yet it resonated deeply within him.

"May I take you to bed then, meri jaan?" he asked, his tone laced with a mixture of playfulness and earnest desire.

A giggle escaped her, light and carefree, and she nodded in agreement. The sound was music to his ears, a melody he would never tire of.

As he lifted her effortlessly, her squeal of delight echoed through the room, filling it with their shared joy. 

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A/N: Soooooooooo, what do you think? What was your favourite part? Whatever shall happen next? Our MeeraSim are finally heading to the village where adventures and confessions awaits them!