A/N: Hellllooooo! We're back to Hyderabad in this chapter - Meerab and Murtasim adjust to their new routine, and act all kinds of cute, so I hope y'all enjoy it :)

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As much as Meerab hated that she had to share her time and Murtasim with others, she couldn't deny the warmth that the familiar embrace of the haveli brought with it. The place she had once dreaded and thought of as a prison had somehow become a comforting haven. The transformation was not just in the bricks and mortar but in the essence of the place itself, imbued with the laughter and love of those who filled its rooms. As she glanced around the sitting room outside her and Murtasim's bedroom, a smile broke across her face. The sight of Maa Begum, Maryam, her Abbu, and her Baba and Mama who had made the trip from Karachi to see her, gathered together made her realize how some part of her had missed home.

Murtasim and Meerab had arrived late the previous night and had slept through most of the day before facing the day and their eager audience. Murtasim had helped her meticulously lay out the gifts they had brought back on the table they had picked after much deliberation when they renovated their space.

They all loved their gifts, oohing and aahing over them, their gratitude evident in their smiles.

Her Abbu was the first to notice the new watch on Murtasim's wrist, which made sense given his own love for watches, smiling as he said, "nice watch, Murtasim."

Meerab watched, her heart light, as Murtasim's face lit up. "Meri biwi ne gift ki hai mujhe," he declared, his words sending a wave of affectionate smiles her way. The warmth of the room seemed to increase tenfold, her cheeks burning with a blush as the spotlight turned to her.

The mention of the Cartier watch, their final extravagant purchase on the morning of their flight, drew admiring looks, particularly from Maa Begum. Her approving nod towards Meerab, coupled with her praise, made Meerab smile. "You have to admit, Meerab always chooses well," Maa Begum's words echoed around the room as her fingers played with the fabric of the two designer shawls in her lap.

Murtasim's playful whine, "I helped," was met with laughter, the room buzzing with the light-hearted teasing.

"Acha?" Maryam spoke up. "Or did Bhabhi just show you options for you to pick one?" She teased, hitting the nail on the head for the most part.

Murtasim looked towards Meerab with a pleading look, "tell her."

Meerab giggled, "he actually helped."

Her mother's question, "Did you enjoy yourselves?" touched a deeper chord, reminding Meerab of the type of enjoyment that characterized most of the trip.

As Murtasim raised his eyebrow at her in playful inquiry, Meerab felt her cheeks warm with a blush she couldn't quite conceal. Yet, before the conversation could steer towards her and why she was blushing, Murtasim deftly shifted the focus, his voice filled with enthusiasm. "Meerab picked the best resort. There were so many animals, I even got pictures of animals that are rare to photograph," he shared.

Waqas glanced towards the wall adorned with empty frames. "You can easily fill that wall then," he suggested, nodding towards the collection waiting for life in the form of photographs.

"I can hook up the camera to the TV and show you some," Murtasim proposed, excitement in his voice. As he went to retrieve his camera, Meerab couldn't help but worry for a moment that Murtasim hadn't removed all of the more private pictures off the camera, as much as she loved the people in the room, she didn't need them to see pictures of her pressing her lips to Murtasim's cheeks or pictures of him shirtless in bed.

The room buzzed with anticipation as Murtasim began displaying the photographs on the large TV screen. Each image sparked exclamations of wonder and appreciation from the family, drawing them closer in shared admiration of the natural beauty Murtasim had captured. Meerab watched, pride swelling in her heart for Murtasim's talent, yet the exhaustion from their journey began to weigh heavily on her eyelids.

As she drifted between consciousness and sleep, the room's energy seemed to soften. The voices of her family became a comforting background hum, their words blurring together in her drowsy state. "Thak gayi hai bechari," Maa Begum's voice floated through the air, laced with affection.

"A few good days of sleep will help," Anila agreed, her voice gentle and understanding.

Maryam's playful chide, "Bhai, let Bhabhi sleep now," was met with Murtasim's low warning, and Maa Begum's sharp behave.

"Thankfully, she still has a few days until she starts her Masters program." Her Baba's reminder of her impending academic commitments brought a murmur of agreement, yet as their conversation continued, Meerab found herself succumbing fully to sleep's embrace, the familiar voices fading into silence.

The next thing she knew, she was being lifted, cradled with a tenderness that could only belong to Murtasim. His strong arms carried her to their bedroom, where the soft sheets welcomed her weary body. As she curled up, the scent of home and the presence of her husband nearby lulled her into a deep, restful sleep.

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Meerab couldn't help but notice the change in Murtasim since their return from their honeymoon; the man she had married, always charming and a bit flirty, had transformed into someone even more irresistible, his affection for her an ever-present force. She knew she herself was just as guilt, because she found herself not only the recipient of his sudden displays of affection but also eagerly anticipating them.

That morning was no different. Murtasim had business meetings scheduled, a return to the reality of responsibilities that had piled up after their time away. Yet, as they lingered over breakfast, the thought of separation seemed to weigh heavily on him. It wasn't long before she found herself gently guided into the study, a secluded nook off the living room. There, hidden by the heavy drapes that framed the window, his arms enveloped her, pressing her gently against the cool wall, as his lips found hers, unwilling to part.

Breathless from his kisses, she listened as he whispered, "I am going to pass on my responsibilities to someone else and we're going on a long honeymoon for a year," he murmured against her lips. The idea was ludicrous, yet utterly romantic, and she couldn't suppress the laughter that bubbled up at his earnestness.

"I miss you," he confessed, pulling back slightly to gaze into her eyes, his hands warm on her cheeks.

"I am right here," she responded, his proximity still making her heart race.

"I know, but I don't get to see you all day," he sighed, the yearning in his voice tugging at her heartstrings, "and it is unbearable after spending every minute of the day with you."

She offered him a playful retort, "absence makes the heart grow fonder," hoping to lighten his mood.

"If I grow any fonder of you, I'll attach myself to you and never leave," he declared with such sincerity that it caused her heart to flutter wildly.

Rolling her eyes, an attempt to mask the effect his words had on her, she urged him, "go." Yet, the simple command was laden with unspoken affection.

"Take care of yourself," he implored, his concern evident as he reluctantly prepared to leave her side.

"I am fine, just tired, it'll wear off," she reassured him, stretching up to plant a soft kiss on his lips. "I love you," Meerab murmured softly as she pulled away.

"I love you too, meri jaan," Murtasim replied, his words wrapping around her like a warm embrace before he sighed, a signal of departure. He gently guided her towards the foyer, where his mother was engaged in conversation with one of the maids, orchestrating the day's tasks with a practiced ease.

As they approached, Meerab noticed the shift in the air, the seamless transition from their private world back to the shared spaces of family life. Maa Begum turned her attention towards them, her presence commanding yet warm.

"What's your schedule like this week, Murtasim?" she inquired, her tone suggesting she had plans in mind.

"Depends on the day, why?" Murtasim's voice carried a hint of curiosity.

"Sabra and Naurez have returned to Pakistan, I was thinking of inviting them over this week or next," she explained, her words drawing an understanding nod from Murtasim.

"An evening might work, just let me know which day and I'll be home," he reassured her.

"Theek hai, I will call Sabra and see," his mother said, already making mental arrangements.

Then, suddenly, Murtasim let out a little gasp. "Maa, woh kya hai?" he asked, pointing to a spot on the wall behind her.

"Kahan?" Maa Begum turned, her gaze searching the wall for whatever had caught her son's eye.

"Dewaar par, wahan upar," Murtasim persisted, his voice laced with concern. Meerab, drawn into the moment, turned to look as well, only to gasp as she felt Murtasim's lips briefly on her cheek, a swift, loving gesture that left her cheeks warmed with a blush.

She turned back to him, her eyes wide with surprise at his boldness, only to find him grinning as he winked at her.

"Kya hai?" Maa Begum's voice, still focused on the wall, broke into their moment.

"Never mind, mujhe laga chipkali hai," Murtasim offered a playful excuse, bidding a quick goodbye to his mother.

"Sabra aur Naurez kaun hai?" Meerab inquired, turning towards Maa Begum with genuine curiosity.

And just like that, Meerab was drawn into the fold of chatter, the topic shifting to Naurez Khan and his recent return. As the conversation unfolded, Meerab couldn't shake off the feeling that Maa Begum had something up her sleeve, a subtle matchmaking scheme perhaps, but the warmth in her voice and the inclusive gesture made Meerab feel ever more part of this family.

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Meerab walked into their master suite after spending the day with Maryam at the spa and salon—a much-needed respite before the rush of school and responsibilities began anew. The moment she stepped into the familiar warmth of their sitting room, she saw Murtasim sitting on the couch, her face lighting up at his presence, she hadn't expected him to be home until hours later.

"You cut your hair," he noted, his voice tinged with surprise, pulling his attention away from the cellphone in his hand fully onto her.

"Just a trim," Meerab responded with a light laugh, her smile broadening as she turned, giving him a better view. It was a minor change, merely two inches, but his notice of it warmed her heart.

He hummed in response, an affectionate sound that seemed to draw her closer, his phone now forgotten on the couch as he opened his arms in a silent invitation.

A giggle left her as she crossed the short distance between them, she placed her newly acquired red bag on the armchair and climbed into his lap, nestling comfortably into his welcoming embrace. As she wrapped her arms around him, she was enveloped in the familiar scent and warmth that she had come to associate with safety and love.

"I missed you," she whispered, her voice muffled against the skin of his neck. The days had been long since their return, with Murtasim caught up in the whirlwind of catching up on work and addressing the changes in their village—a task made all the more pressing in the aftermath of Zubair's death.

"I missed you more," he replied, his voice low and filled with affection, as he placed a gentle kiss atop her head.

She couldn't help but challenge his claim, pulling back to lock eyes with him. "I missed you the most," she countered, her tone playful yet earnest.

His laughter was a sound that filled her with happiness.

Her pout surfaced at the realization of his silent departure that morning. "You didn't say bye this morning," she accused softly, though the warmth in her eyes belied any real upset.

His explanation was tender, his thumb caressing her cheek as he spoke. "You were sleeping so peacefully, I didn't want to wake you up, meri jaan."

She sighed, "I thought jet lag was supposed to last a few days, how am I still tired?" She whined, "and I have class starting tomorrow!"

The light-hearted teasing from Murtasim brought a flush to her cheeks. "Maybe it was all the physical activity that tired you out," he suggested, a sparkle in his eyes.

"Maybe," she conceded, her voice a whisper as her fingers played with the collar of his shirt, enjoying his closeness. They barely got anything more than a fleeting moment to themselves since they returned, he was working most of the day, and when he was home, she was usually much too exhausted to stay awake much longer.

"You're very unobservant these days, by the way." Murtasim's teasing voice broke through Meerab's thoughts, pulling her back to the present moment. His fingers gently combed through her hair, a gesture so familiar and comforting that it made her heart swell.

She responded with a noncommittal hum.

"You didn't notice something different?" Murtasim's voice, laced with a hint of mischief, prompted her to look at him.

Her gaze met his, and she couldn't resist the opportunity for a playful jest. "You look more handsome today," she teased, her voice filled with warmth, she leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek. His laughter, deep and hearty, filled the room, echoing against the walls and warming her from the inside out.

"Thank you, but that's not it, meri jaan," he said, and his denial had her curiosity piqued. She turned her gaze towards the wall behind him, half-expecting to finally see the empty frames filled with memories of their adventures together. Yet, they remained untouched, so the pictures they had ordered to be printed hadn't come in yet.

Puzzled, she let her eyes wander around the room, taking in the familiar sights until they landed on a new addition by the window. A sturdy wooden desk, its surface gleaming under the soft light, accompanied by a lamp and a cozy chair draped with a throw, beckoned her closer. It was a subtle change, yet it transformed the room, and she had completely missed it because her whole being always zeroed in on Murtasim when he was around.

She faced Murtasim again, her confusion evident.

"I thought you needed a place to study." He spoke, the corners of his mouth lifted in a grin, his eyes gleaming with the satisfaction of having surprised her.

The thoughtfulness behind the gesture struck a chord within her, a gentle reminder of Murtasim's constant understanding of her needs, even those she hadn't voiced. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, not of sorrow but of overwhelming gratitude and love. "Thank you," she managed to whisper, her voice thick with emotion.

His response was immediate, a smile that reached his eyes. "Anything for you," he assured her, "let me know if you want to move it somewhere else."

She nodded, her mind already envisioning late nights spent at the desk, delving into her studies, Murtasim setting up office as he sometimes did on the couch.

"And that's not it," he hinted, his voice excited, as he helped them both rise from their comfortable position on the sofa. His encouragement, "go look," was all it took for her to move towards the table, curious and eager.

Upon reaching the desk, her breath caught in her throat at the sight of a sleek, brand-new MacBook in rose-gold, its surface gleaming under the room's gentle lighting. Beside it, a leather notebook and a set of pens lay meticulously arranged. "Murtasim -," she began, only to be interrupted by his gentle clarification.

"That wasn't me, that's a gift from your parents," he explained making her pause, "I know I should have waited for you to unbox it, but I opened it to load some software I thought you might need, and -"

In a burst of joy and gratitude, Meerab turned and leaped at her husband, her arms finding their familiar place around his neck as she planted a kiss on his cheek. Her heart felt like it was soaring, filled with so much love.

Pulling back to see his face, she was met with his affectionate gaze, his arms firmly around her waist, drawing her closer. "Thank you," she said, her voice a reflection of the warmth inside her.

His response, "you're welcome," was accompanied by a look that seemed to search her soul. "Still nervous?" He asked.

"It's a good nervous though," she admitted, acknowledging the blend of excitement and anticipation that filled her.

"Good," he said, his voice soothing, as he kissed her nose. "Now, call your parents, I promised them you'd call after I delivered their gift."

"Do you have somewhere to be?" she inquired, her voice soft.

He responded with a shake of his head, his gaze locked with hers, "I have the rest of the evening and all of tomorrow morning off."

Her curiosity piqued at his mention of the morning, "Tomorrow morning?" she echoed, a hint of surprise coloring her tone.

With a laugh that seemed to fill the room with joy, he replied, "Haan, I have to drop my biwi off to school." His words were light, but they carried the weight of his affection for her.

A giggle escaped her. "You make me sound like a child," she teased, her eyes dancing with mirth.

His chuckle was deep, resonant, "I'll go with you though, and pick you up." The promise in his voice was unwavering.

Her smile then was radiant, a reflection of the love she felt for him. "You're going to be my driver?" The teasing continued.

"Whenever I can be, yes," he affirmed.

The warmth that enveloped her then was all-consuming, a feeling so intense it could light up the darkest of nights. "Stay with me while I call?" Her request was tender, a wish to be close to him.

He agreed without hesitation, drawing her closer on the couch. She maneuvered him to lay down, creating a makeshift pillow from his arm. It was a picture of domestic bliss, her head resting against him as she dialed her parents. The conversation flowed easily while Murtasim's fingers absentmindedly played with her hair, and he occasionally placed a kiss atop her head.

As she spoke, expressing gratitude to her parents for the thoughtful gift and engaging her father in discussions about what to expect during her first week, who his friends were, and to ask him for help when she needed it, she felt genuinely happy.

The call was only interrupted by the gentle intrusion of the maid, a reminder that dinner awaited them.

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In the soft morning light filtering through the sheer curtains of their bedroom, Meerab's reflection in the mirror was a portrait of understated elegance. The subtle shade of lipstick she applied added just the right touch of color, enhancing the natural beauty of her smile. Her outfit for the day was a study in simplicity and grace: a cream shalwar-kameez that draped elegantly over her form, paired with matching flats. The ensemble was brought together by her new tote, a gift that held more than just her essentials for the day, along with the lunch Maa Begum had handed over to her at the breakfast table.

Murtasim was an audience to her morning ritual for the first time in a while, sitting on the edge of their bed with a look of adoration. His gaze followed each of her movements, from the delicate spray of perfume on her neck to the light laughter that danced in her eyes.

"What?" Meerab inquired, catching his intense stare in the mirror's reflection.

He simply shook his head, his expression unreadable for a moment.

"Murtasim," she pressed, seeking an answer with a playful sigh.

"You look too pretty," he finally confessed, his voice carrying a note of sincerity that warmed her heart.

She couldn't help but laugh, turning to face him with a quizzical smile. "What does that mean?"

His response was immediate and earnest. "It means that everyone is going to be smitten with you." The words echoed his sentiments from the night before, a playful jealousy of sorts that all the classmates she was about to meet might just fall hopelessly in love with her.

Meerab smiled, understanding his plight, for she too would have been rather jealous. "You can get out of the car and stake your claim when you drop me off, and I'll be sure to say 'my husband' in every sentence I can," she teased, mimicking his protective stance with a twinkle in her eye.

"Hm, my wife really is the smartest," Murtasim responded with a chuckle, rising from the bed. "Ready?" he asked, his tone gentle yet filled with excitement for the day ahead.

She nodded, and Murtasim held his hand out to her, which she readily took while she grabbed her tote in the other hand.

"Nice bag," Murtasim remarked with a playful glint in his eye as they walked out of their room, hand-in-hand.

"Thank you, my husband got it for me," Meerab replied, playing along with the script they had jokingly crafted the night before.

"Hm, that's exactly how you should reply," he affirmed, a satisfied nod accompanying his words as they neared the grand front door.

They briefly paused as they encountered Maa Begum in the foyer. "Have a good day," she said. Her gaze, drifting to their intertwined hands and then back to their faces, a smile on her face.

"Thank you," Meerab responded as she waved goodbye.

"MARYAM, WE'RE LEAVING, YOU HAVE TWO MINUTES!" Murtasim's voice boomed, the words echoing off the high ceilings as they stepped outside.

Meerab couldn't suppress a giggle at the sound of Maryam's hurried footsteps in response before the door closed behind them with a soft click.

Murtasim sighed, a mix of exasperation and affection coloring his tone. "She's always late."

"It takes time to look pretty," Meerab offered.

"You always look pretty without even trying," he countered immediately, his compliment as heartfelt as it was automatic.

She snorted in response, "You're so cheesy." Yet, despite her playful protest, the flutter in her heart at his words was undeniable.

Murtasim held the passenger side door of the Mercedes open for Meerab. She slid into the cool, welcoming interior of the car, a gentle reprieve from the burgeoning warmth of the day outside. Murtasim's thoughtful gesture, of ensuring the car was pleasantly cool before they got in, didn't go unnoticed. It was these small acts of care that continuously warmed her heart.

Maryam's hurried appearance, just as Murtasim settled behind the wheel, added a burst of energy to the calm morning. "Sorry, sorry, I couldn't find the right sandals," she panted, her breathlessness indicative of her last-minute dash. Meerab couldn't help but smile at her sister-in-law's typical morning chaos.

"If you didn't throw them all into a pile maybe it would be easier," Murtasim's teasing voice filled the car, igniting laughter from Meerab and whining from Maryam as she delved into how she needed a bigger closet to display all her shoes.

As they navigated through the bustling streets, Meerab found herself caught in a yawn, the exhaustion still clinging to her despite days of rest.

"Still tired?" Maryam's voice was filled with concern.

"I don't know why, I slept so much the past few days," Meerab lamented, her frustration at her lingering fatigue clear.

"Maybe give it another week, it must be the stress of all these new things happening," Maryam suggested, it was a comforting thought, hinting at a light at the end of the tunnel of her weariness.

After dropping Maryam off at her university, the car felt suddenly quieter, more intimate. Meerab shifted closer to the edge of her seat closer to Murtasim, resting her head against his arm, seeking the comfort of his presence as they drove towards her new beginning.

Murtasim accommodated her with a slight adjustment, wiggling down the seat a little, his hand finding a gentle rest on her leg. The gesture sent a flurry of butterflies through her stomach, along with a sense of calm, like the noise in her brain was gone. Every mile closer to the law school, her nerves ticked up a notch, yet the steady presence of Murtasim, the soft touch of his hand, grounded her.

Murtasim's voice broke through her reverie. "I am not used to you being this quiet anymore," he observed, his tone laced with concern and a hint of amusement. She offered him a nervous hum in return, acknowledging the truth in his words. The silence that had once been a frequent visitor in their interactions was now an anomaly, a sign of the profound changes in their dynamic.

"Just nerves," she admitted.

Murtasim's response was immediate and reassuring, his confidence in her abilities unwavering. "You'll be great, they'll all be impressed - trust me, no one knows how to argue as well as you do," he teased, his hand squeezing her thigh in a gesture of support. His teasing brought a momentary respite from her nerves, prompting a playful whack on his arm.

His next promise was a balm to her jittery nerves. "Call me at lunch if you hate it, and I'll come rescue you," he offered, half in jest but wholly sincere as he pulled up in front of the law school, warming her heart.

"Otherwise, I'll be here to pick you up when you're done," he continued, his voice steady and sure.

She smiled and nodded. "Thank you."

"And we can go out for food if you're feeling up for it." He said, a simple yet thoughtful gesture, warmed her heart further.

As the car came to a stop in the drop-off zone, Meerab leaned in and kissed Murtasim's cheek, a silent thank you for his unwavering support and love. "I love you." She whispered.

"I love you too, meri Meerab," he whispered, leaning in to place a kiss on her forehead, "have a good first day."

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The soft glow of the lamps cast a gentle light across the sitting room, highlighting the concentration etched on Meerab's face as she delved into her first major assignment four weeks into the semester. September had been a whirlwind, each day blending into the next, filled with the new rhythms of school life and the comforting constancy of home. Murtasim, ever the attentive husband, had taken it upon himself to ensure she was well-nourished during her marathon study sessions, even if it meant interrupting her focus with his culinary offerings.

"Stop," she laughed, a light-hearted protest escaping her as Murtasim attempted yet again to feed her a piece of fruit. His concern for her well-being, cloaked in these small acts of care, was endearing, even if slightly distracting.

"You need energy to do all those readings," he insisted, gently pushing a slice of orange between her lips. The tangy sweetness burst in her mouth, a welcome distraction from the dry academic text on her screen.

Her mock glare did little to deter him; it only widened his smile, a look of satisfaction at her capitulation. "You threw up lunch and didn't eat much at dinner either, meri jaan," he reminded her, his voice laced with concern as he offered up an apple slice next.

Surrendering to his ministrations, she opened her mouth, accepting the fruit. His delighted "Good girl" earned an eye roll from her, but secretly, she loved the praise.

"When is the assignment due?" he inquired, reaching for a grape and bringing it up to her lips.

"Let me chew first!" she protested, still working on the apple.

She was met with his laughter, a sound that filled the room with warmth.

"Next Friday," she finally managed to say, just in time for him to pop the grape into her mouth.

"You have time then," he muttered, "you can sleep if you're tired." He held up another orange slice to her lips.

As she chewed on the fruit, her thoughts drifted to her classmates, some of whom were navigating the turbulent waters of marriage and academia. Their frequent complaints and frustrations were a stark contrast to her own experience. She often found herself on the periphery of these conversations, unable to relate. Her husband didn't complain about how she spent her time, he didn't pressure her to not work in the evenings, he had even instructed his mother and others in the house to do the same.

Her husband, with his unwavering support and understanding, made her life easy. While her peers bemoaned their situations, Meerab found herself grateful for Murtasim's presence in her life. As he held up another slice of orange to her lips, Meerab realized how fortunate she was.

Meerab closed her laptop, ending her evening's work in favour of a moment of connection she had been craving. As she placed the laptop aside. She climbed into Murtasim's lap, her knees going to either side of his thighs, straddling him as she cupped his face and pressed a kiss against his lips.

The way he hummed into their kiss, a sound of contentment and longing mixed into one, sent a shiver of warmth down her spine. His hands, strong yet gentle, traced a path across her back, pulling her closer to him. She deepened their kiss, their lips moving together like they were both starved, the kiss deep and filled with unspoken words. As she traced the lines of his face, down the rugged terrain of his beard and along the softness of his jaw, each touch was a whisper of her adoration for him. She loved him. So much.

Breathless, they parted, lips tingling, faces flushed. Meerab's playful attempt to unbutton his shirt was met with a breathy chuckle from Murtasim.

"I thought you were tired," Murtasim whispered.

She was always tired these days, like all the energy was being sucked out of her body, which meant that after school and her other commitments, she fell asleep as soon as her head hit her pillow, even as early as 7pm on some days. Yet, the tiredness could not diminish the flame that burned between them.

"You don't want to have sex?" She hesitated, pulling her hand away from where it was unbuttoning his shirt, but he grabbed her hand, stopping her from pulling away.

His declaration was simple yet profound. "I always want to have sex with you," he said.

Meerab's lips curved into a pout, her expression a blend of mock indignation and genuine disappointment. "You haven't tried to in the past two weeks," she lamented, her voice carrying a playful accusation.

With tender care, Murtasim cupped her face, his hands cradling her cheeks with a gentle squeeze that was both reassuring and affectionate. His thumbs caressed her skin, tracing the lines of her face as if committing every detail to memory. Leaning forward, he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead. "Meri jaan, you look so tired all the time that I think you need sleep more on most days," he whispered, his breath warm against her skin, his words a soothing balm to her weary soul.

"You can do all the work." The words tumbled from Meerab's lips.

Her laughter, bright and unbridled, filled the room as he turned them, his movements fluid and sure, "okay, I'll do all the work." With a gentle push, she found herself sinking into the soft cushions with Murtasim hovering over her.

"Lock the door," she reminded him, knowing someone would burst in otherwise.

He groaned, reluctant to pull away, but complied. Rising from their cocoon of warmth, he moved to the door of their suite, his actions deliberate. The click of the lock echoed in the room, a clear signal that they were now cocooned in their own private world, safe from interruptions.

Seizing the moment of his absence, Meerab rose, her movements graceful and deliberate. With a mischievous giggle, she slid off her pajamas and shirt, revealing the delicate blush pink bra and panties beneath. The fabric, a whisper against her skin, was transparent save for the embroidered flowers that offered a semblance of modesty.

Her laughter rang out, pure and joyful, as he turned back to her and groaned, the sound a mixture of desire and admiration. He had picked out the particular set she wore on their honeymoon.

"You were wearing that underneath the whole day?" he asked. His eyes roamed her body, tracing the contours and lines as if seeing her for the first time, each glance a caress that sent shivers down her spine.

She nodded, a shy affirmation of her secret, the blush that crept over her cheeks matching the pink of her lingerie.

Murtasim crossed the room with deliberate steps, each one closing the distance between them as he undressed, his movements were fluid, his shirt was discarded in a forgotten heap, his belt and pants following in quick succession.

"Impatient?" She teased, chuckling when he nodded.

His eyes never left her as he walked towards her, pulling her into his embrace as he stepped in front of her. Their lips met in a kiss, his hands exploring the curve of her back, descending with a gentle urgency to her ass which he squeezed, making her giggle.

"You're so gorgeous, meri jaan," he murmured against her lips, his voice a husky whisper that sent shivers through her.

"Missed me that much, huh?" Meerab teased, a playful challenge in her eyes as she traced the contour of his jaw with her fingertip, a smile dancing on her lips.

"Of course," Murtasim responded without hesitation, his voice low and filled with affection. "These lips," he said, brushing his thumb gently across her mouth, "are made for me to miss." The intimacy of the gesture, coupled with his words, made her heart fluttering like a caged bird eager for flight.

Her response was a giggle, light and airy, a sound that seemed to captivate him completely.

As Murtasim leaned in, the anticipation was a tangible thing, a charge in the air that made Meerab's breath hitch in her throat. His hands found her face gently, fingers splaying across her cheeks, thumbs caressing the soft skin beneath her eyes with a tenderness that belied the intensity of his gaze. His approach was slow, deliberate, giving her time to close her eyes and tilt her face up to meet his.

Their lips met in a kiss that was soft at first, a tentative exploration that spoke of deep affection. Murtasim's lips were firm against hers, moving with a precision that was both asking and telling, a silent conversation. Meerab responded in kind, her lips parting slightly to welcome the deepening of the kiss. The movement was a dance, a give and take that gradually grew more insistent.

As the kiss intensified, Murtasim's hands drifted from her face, one finding its way into her hair, fingers weaving through the strands to cradle the back of her head, pulling her closer. The other arm moved up from her ass to wrap around her waist, bringing her body flush against his, eliminating any space between them, his skin warm against hers. Meerab's hands were not idle; one rested on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart, his skin warm under her touch, while the other reached up to grasp his shoulder, anchoring herself to him as the kiss deepened.

As they finally parted, gasping for air, Murtasim's gaze locked onto hers, intense yet playful. "And made for me to kiss," he declared, a promise laced with longing and a hint of mischief.

His kisses trailed down her neck, each touch a spark igniting flames of desire within her. The sensation of his lips, the slight abrasion of his beard against her skin, was intoxicating, a dance of pleasure and pain that made her moan. The heat that coursed through her body was a river of longing, each lick and bite a stone causing ripples of desire.

Positioning himself to sit on the coffee table as she stood between his legs, his attention shifted to her chest with reverence, his actions speaking volumes of his adoration. He lavished attention over the fabric of her bra, licking and sucking her nipples with the barrier, before pulling the cups down.

"I missed these," he whispered, laughter bubbling between them at his words. His hands, strong yet gentle, cupped her breasts, each squeeze sending waves of pleasure through her.

Moans and gasps from Meerab seemed to echo louder than before, her breasts, particularly sensitive, responded to Murtasim's touch with an intensity that surprised her. As he worshipped her with his mouth, the sensation of his lips on her skin, devoid of any barrier, elicited a scream of his name.

"Shhhhh, meri jaan, you can't be that loud here," Murtasim's voice was a blend of concern and amusement, a gentle reminder that the sitting room, although a part of their suite, was just off the hallway.

Yet he didn't slow down, his tongue flicking her nipples and sucking, while his hands squeezed, she bit her lip to hold back the sounds that threatened to escape her. She always loved it when he lavished her breasts with attention, but his touch seemed to elicit more of a reaction from her body now.

Murtasim looked up at Meerab with an intensity that made her heart flutter, his hands gently resting on her hips. She smiled down at him, her hands finding his hair, playing with the soft strands. There was an unspoken communication in his gaze, a promise of the adoration he was about to bestow upon her. He leaned in, his lips finding the soft skin of her stomach, and planted a tender kiss there. The warmth of his mouth against her skin sent a thrill through her.

Murtasim's kisses trailed down her body, past her stomach. His fingers, gentle yet insistent, pushed aside the crotch of her panties, the last barrier to her skin, his fingers rubbing her gently. The sensation of his fingers against her, the warmth of his touch, sent a cascade of sensations through her. The gentle rubbing, a tender exploration, elicited a response from deep within her, the sound that filled the room, a soft, intimate squelch, was a testament to her arousal.

Murtasim's groan, a deep, resonant sound, mingled with this melody, an audible expression of his own desire and appreciation. He spoke, his voice husky with desire, "I could slide into you without this," a statement laden with meaning, as he slid his fingers into her.

Meerab's reaction was visceral—a sharp intake of breath, a soft moan that escaped her lips without permission.

His fingers met no resistance, his fingers sliding in all the way to his knuckles easily. "So ready for me," he whispered.

She was. She wanted him inside her.

As his fingers moved inside her, the sensation was overwhelming, a stark reminder of the time that had elapsed since she had last felt him inside her. Positioned with him sitting on the coffee table and her standing before him, it placed him at the perfect height. He leaned in, his tongue finding her clit with precision, playing with her in a way that sent shocks of pleasure through her as his fingers worked.

"Murtasim," she gasped out, her legs trembling under the dual assault of his fingers inside her and the flick of his tongue. Her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him to her as he curled his fingers inside her, hitting spots inside her that heightened the sensation further.

"Please." The word was a mewl, a plea filled with need, her body aching for more, for him to fill her completely.

"I need you to cum for me like this first, meri jaan," he spoke against her, his breath warm, his fingers quickening their pace, becoming a blur of movement that promised release.

A gasp tore from her throat as his fingers worked with relentless speed, targeting the place within her that never failed to send her spiraling. Her legs shook, her body's response uncontrollable, as he guided her back onto the couch. Now sitting, her hips pushed up towards him, her movements instinctive, seeking his mouth and fingers even as waves of pleasure began to build within her.

The rapid, rhythmic movements inside her, particularly as he targeted that spot just inches in, were like the striking of a match against the dry tinder of her desire, igniting an inferno of sensation that consumed her from the inside out. The feeling was indescribable. Each movement of his fingers sent shockwaves that reverberated through her very core. The sensation was overwhelming, a relentless pursuit of ecstasy that left her breathless.

As the intensity of the sensations built, so too did the volume of Meerab's responses. What began as whimpers of pleasure, barely audible expressions of the ecstasy coursing through her, gradually grew in volume. Each stroke of Murtasim's fingers, each direct hit on that spot of pure pleasure, coaxed louder and more fervent expressions from her lips. Her sounds of delight grew, escalating from soft moans to passionate screams that filled the room.

"Ah ah ah, Murtasimmmm," she gasped, her voice rising, the edge of orgasm rushing through her under the relentless pace of his fingers. Her cry, loud and filled with his name, marked the crest of her climax, her body clenching around his fingers in waves.

She still needed more, even as her body trembled from the force of her orgasm.

"Fuck, I missed these sounds," Murtasim groaned as he pulled away, the raw need in his voice mirroring her own. Looking up at him, she groaned, the sight of him, his beard a testament to their activities, igniting a further need within her. Watching as he took his fingers, coated with her, and cleaned them with his mouth made her whimper in need. Then, picking up her shirt, he wiped his face.

"Lay down," he instructed, his voice low and filled with an urgency that mirrored the tension between them. She complied immediately, her anticipation growing as he shed his boxers, his cock hard and stirring a deep longing within her. The sight of him, so eager and poised, unleashed a needy moan from her lips, a sound that spoke volumes of her craving, her wonder at how she could have gone so long without him inside her. The room seemed to charge with electricity at the rawness of their connection, her breath hitching at the realization of how deeply she craved his touch.

"I'll go get a condom," his voice broke through the thick haze of desire, whispered yet laden with significance. Yet, she found herself shaking her head, driven by a need to diminish any distance between them, to feel him in the most unguarded way.

"Just pull out," she whispered back, her voice laced with longing, craving the intimacy of skin against skin, the unparalleled closeness it promised.

His groan in response was heavy with desire, acknowledging her request with a nod that sent anticipation skittering down her spine. He moved to join her on the couch, his movements deliberate, each second stretching out as he positioned them with a care that only heightened her desire.

He placed one of her feet on the floor, the other on the back of the sofa, spreading her open for him, she felt exposed yet entirely secure under his gaze. His fingers ran along her slit again, spreading her wetness around, eliciting a groan from deep within him that mirrored her moan. "So pretty," he whispered, his words a caress, his eyes between her legs.

The moment he aligned himself with her, the world seemed to pause, anticipation coiling tight within her. The sensation of him moving against her, the promise of fulfillment, set every nerve alight with expectancy. And then, he pushed into her, sliding in easily, the sensation of being utterly complete enveloped her, a feeling of fullness that was both a relief and an intoxication. She had missed him.

Her groan, mingled with his, filled the room. He stilled, the moment he was fully enveloped by her was marked by a collective gasp, a sound of wonder as if this joining was a novel experience despite their familiarity. The sensation of him moving deeper, stretching her, enveloped her in a sensation of completeness. It felt as though his presence was awakening a myriad of nerve-endings that had gone untouched for too long, sending a torrent of heat and pleasure cascading through her veins.

Leaning over her, his body pressed against hers, he pressed his lips against hers. As he moved within her, each thrust sent waves of unadulterated pleasure radiating through her being. Her hands, driven by a need to be as close as possible, clutched at him, pulling him closer, as if trying to merge into one entity.

"I missed this," he whispered against her lips, his voice a husky echo of their shared longing. His movements were deliberate, a slow and smooth cadence that built a slow burn within her, an exquisite torture that had her gasping, "me too," her voice a breathless affirmation of their mutual yearning.

True to his word, Murtasim took the lead, sliding a pillow under her hips, instantly elevating them to an angle that allowed him to thrust deeper into her. In the quiet of the room, the only sounds were the result of their physical connection. Murtasim's movements were calculated and purposeful, each thrust engineered to deepen their connection, to reacquaint himself with every response her body could offer.

The sensation was overwhelming for Meerab. It was a feeling of being stretched, filled in a way that resonated deep within her. Each of Murtasim's thrusts hit just the right spot, eliciting a sensation that spiraled from her core, radiating outwards in waves of pleasure that left her breathless. The mechanics of his motion, the way he angled his hips, the depth of each movement, drove her absolutely mad.

The sounds that filled the room were a mix of the physical and the verbal. The slap of skin against skin punctuated the air, a testament to the fervor of Murtasim's thrusts. Meerab's reactions grew louder with each movement, her breaths turning to moans, escalating to screams that were raw and unfiltered, a primal response to the overwhelming pleasure. The louder she screamed, the more the room seemed to shrink down to the space they occupied.

His voice broke through amid the sounds, low and husky with emotion. "I've missed this...missed you," he confessed, each word punctuated by a thrust, a physical emphasis on the sentiment. "You feel incredible," he added, a murmur that sent shivers down her spine.

Meerab's responses were not just vocal but physical. Her body reacted instinctively to him, clenching around him. Her hands found his back, nails digging in slightly, a physical manifestation of the intensity of her pleasure and an unspoken urge for him to continue.

Murtasim's pace intensified, each thrust becoming more deliberate, more forceful, signaling his own approach to the edge as much as it was meant to drive her over it. The shift was palpable, the air charged with an urgency that matched the quickening rhythm of their bodies moving together. As he moved faster, the sound of their union—a rhythmic, urgent pounding—filled the room.

Meerab's responses turned into a chant of affirmation, "Yes, yes, yes," each word punctuated by the depth and strength of Murtasim's thrusts. Her voice rose over the sounds of their bodies meeting, his name on her lips, a vocal surrender to the waves of pleasure that were building, coiling tighter and tighter within her.

He let out a loud groan, grabbing her face, forcing her to look at him, his eyes wild, "how am I not supposed to think of this every time you say my name," he asked as he sped up.

"Murtasim," she gasped as she sensed her approaching climax, like a string being drawn taut, ready to snap. Her entire body was focused on the point of their connection, each of Murtasim's thrusts sending sparks that fanned the flames of her arousal into a wildfire. The buildup was intense, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps, her body tensed in anticipation of the release that was hovering just on the horizon.

"Cum for me, meri jaan." He groaned out, as if it was a need.

It was as if that tightly drawn string snapped, releasing a cascade of sensation that washed over her in an overwhelming wave. It was a release of pressure, a flood of pleasure that left her gasping, her body convulsing around him as she rode the waves of her orgasm. The world narrowed down to the feeling of him inside her, the overwhelming pleasure that racked her body, and the sound of her own voice crying out, a raw and primal sound that marked the peak of her pleasure.

Murtasim's thrusts didn't falter, each one prolonging her climax, drawing out the waves of pleasure until she was left breathless and spent. He pulled out with a groan of her name, finishing all over her stomach. The aftermath was a quiet that seemed loud in its contrast, filled only with the sound of their heavy breathing and the lingering echoes of her cries in the room.

Lying there, utterly spent and motionless for what seemed like minutes, Meerab found her body unresponsive. At Murtasim's movement, a slight whine escaped her lips, prompted by the sight of him pulling on his boxers. His chuckle, warm and affectionate, cut through the heavy air. With a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the passion, he cared for her, helping her clean up.

A smile crept across Meerab's face, her arms opening in silent invitation. Her laughter mingled with his as he leaned in for an embrace, her lips finding the curve of his shoulder, marking the moment with a kiss as he pulled her to sit up, letting her snuggle into his lap as he pressed a kiss into her temple.

Pulling back, her smile lingered, brightened by his caring gesture of fixing her hair. "Okay?" he inquired, his voice soft.

Her response was a nod, paired with a playful whisper, "Let's go back on a honeymoon." His laughter, light and genuine, filled the room, echoing the lightness of their conversation.

As he carefully removed the remnants of her lingerie, replacing them with his shirt, his words painted a picture of a dream escape. "Deal. No work. No school. No responsibilities. Just us." The removal of her bra brought a sigh of relief, she didn't know why she bothered wearing them sometimes.

She hummed in contentment, slipping into his shirt with his help. "That'd get boring too, wouldn't it?" she teased.

His laughter was immediate, assured. "I don't think having sex with you could ever get boring for me," he retorted, the depth of his affection clear in his voice.

Caught in a teasing mood, Meerab feigned seriousness. "I think I am getting bored." The shock and then mock indignation on his face were too much for her, and she burst into laughter, her joy uncontained.

"I am kidding," she reassured him, her hands cradling his face as she dotted his lips with quick, light kisses, each one softening his expression into a smile. "I love you, and I always want you."

"I love you too," he murmured back, the sincerity in his kiss to her nose melting any remaining tension.

"Carry me to the bathroom and then to bed? We have to get up early tomorrow," she sighed, a mix of reluctance and practicality in her voice.

Without hesitation, he lifted her into his arms, carrying her as requested, but swinging her around causing her to scream and hold onto him tight while he laughed.

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In the stillness of the night, Meerab awoke with a jolt, an unsettling feeling churning in her stomach. She felt terrible, a wave of nausea washing over her so suddenly and overwhelmingly that it left her breathless. The room, previously cloaked in darkness, came alive with light as Murtasim, somehow sensing her discomfort, flicked on the lamp. He yawned, rubbing his eyes, concern immediately clouding his features.

"What's wrong?" Murtasim's voice was laced with sleep and worry as he turned to her, his eyes squinting in the abrupt brightness.

She barely had a moment to process his question before the overwhelming need to be sick consumed her entirely. The world seemed to tilt and spin as she scrambled out of bed, her heart pounding in her ears. The cool floor beneath her feet offered no comfort as she dashed to the bathroom, the urgency of her movement a stark contrast to the tranquility of the night.

"Meerab." Murtasim's voice, filled with concern, followed her. He was right on her heels, his presence a comforting shadow. She barely made it to the toilet before her stomach revolted, expelling its contents in a violent upheaval. It was a humiliating, debasing sensation, being so vulnerably ill, yet the presence of Murtasim, steadfast and unwavering, offered a sliver of solace. His hands were gentle but firm, one gathering her hair away from her face, the other soothingly rubbing her back, a silent pillar of support in her moment of weakness.

The sound of her distress filled the small space, an unwelcome echo against the ceramic, her body convulsing with each wave of nausea.

"That's the second time today," Murtasim murmured, his voice low and worried, as the sound of flushing water followed her ordeal. His observation hung in the air, a reminder of the day's earlier discomfort.

He helped her to stand, his hand instinctively moving to her forehead, checking for a fever. "You're not warm," he noted, concern knitting his brows together as he tried to puzzle out her ailment.

Feeling utterly drained, Meerab leaned against him, her head resting on his chest. The world seemed to spin a little less when she was anchored by his strength. His scent, familiar and reassuring, enveloped her, allowing her to take deep, steadying breaths. Despite the turmoil of her body, his proximity was a calming force.

"I feel awful," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper against his bare chest. "Must be something I ate," Meerab tried to reassure herself more than Murtasim, her voice a whisper lost in the vast sea of uncertainty that suddenly seemed to surround her. Everything had been off lately; smells were more intense, her appetite a shadow of its usual self.

"We ate the same thing, Meerab, and you barely touched your food," Murtasim pointed out, his tone laden with worry. His hands continued their comforting motion across her back.

Meerab, feeling a mix of exhaustion and a need for normalcy, stepped away and moved to the sink to rinse her mouth, hoping to dispel the lingering taste of bile. She rinsed her mouth a couple of times with water and then swished with mouthwash, seeking a semblance of freshness, trying to push away the nausea that had overtaken her.

Meanwhile, Murtasim had perched himself on the counter, his gaze fixed on her with an intensity that felt like he was trying to decipher her condition with his eyes alone. "I'm making a doctor's appointment for tomorrow," he declared, his voice brooking no argument, a protective edge underlying his words.

She simply nodded. "What's the date tomorrow?" Meerab asked, her mind on practical matters like if she had an important guest speaker or quiz, as she stored the mouthwash, her hands automatically moving to organize the cabinet.

"September 29. Do you have classes you can't miss?" Murtasim's query was casual.

Yet, as Murtasim answered, time seemed to slow, each word heavy with implication.

September 29.

Meerab's movements halted as the date sank in, her eyes inadvertently catching sight of the box of tampons tucked away behind the mouthwash. A sudden realization washed over her. Her period was late, an anomaly in her otherwise regular cycle.

The thought struck her with the force of a tidal wave—could she be pregnant? Now? Amidst the rigorous demands of her Masters in Law? The thought spiraled through her mind, a whirlwind of fear, excitement, and uncertainty. Her dreams were just beginning to take shape...how could she reconcile those with the possibility of motherhood?

Murtasim's voice broke through her spiraling thoughts, his hands gently cradling her face, drawing her gaze to meet his. "What's wrong, meri jaan?" His voice was a blend of fear and concern, his eyes searching hers for an answer.

The potential reality of their situation weighed heavily on her. They had discussed children, yes, but in a distant, future context, not now. Observing the worry etched on Murtasim's face, Meerab knew without a doubt he would stand by her, embrace fatherhood with open arms even now, he'd be an amazing father...but was she ready to be a mother?

"Meerab, you're scaring me," he whispered, his thumb lightly tracing her cheek in a soothing motion, anchoring her amidst the storm of her emotions. His touch, his presence, was the only thing keeping her grounded, preventing her from succumbing to the panic that threatened to consume her.

In that moment, the room felt impossibly small, the weight of the potential change in their lives pressing down on them. Yet, in Murtasim's eyes, she found not just worry but an unwavering support, he would make sure they were okay, no matter what happened.

She let out a heavy sigh, the words tumbling out with a mixture of fear and hope, "I haven't gotten my period since we returned." Her voice was a whisper of realization, a recount of time that seemed to stretch the silence between them. She remembered clearly, she had been on her period on their trip to the village before they left for their honeymoon, now almost six weeks ago. The realization hung heavy in the air.

The thought of a baby, unplanned, stirred a mayhem within her. They weren't ready for this...not yet. Her heart was a tumultuous sea, waves of fear and hope crashing against the shores of her mind. The possibility of being pregnant, of carrying a tiny life inside her, was overwhelming. It wasn't just the fear of the unknown; it was the sudden, acute awareness of how much her life could change, a life she had just gotten used to.

But as her hand instinctively rested on her stomach, confusion washed over her. She should have been praying that it was just a scare, that she wasn't pregnant, but she couldn't get herself to desire that. The possibility of carrying their child, a blend of both of them, was overwhelming. It sparked a glimmer of something undefinable, leaving her eyes brimming with tears.

Murtasim watched her, his expression calm yet deeply concerned. Breaking the silence, he offered, "Do you want to wait until tomorrow to get a pregnancy test, or do you want to go now? There's probably a pharmacy open somewhere." His voice was practical, a beacon of reason in the storm of emotions swirling within her.

"Now please," she whispered back, a plea for clarity, for something tangible to hold onto amidst the whirlwind of possibilities that threatened to engulf her.

"Are you feeling well enough to come with me, or should I go alone?" Murtasim asked gently, his thumb caressing her cheek in a comforting gesture.

The thought of being alone, even for a moment, was unbearable. "I'll come with you," she decided, her voice steadier than she felt.

Murtasim's response was immediate, a nod of understanding and support. There was a depth in his gaze, he looked as if he wanted to say something but thought better of it. Instead of voicing his thoughts, he leaned forward, his lips pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. "I love you," he whispered, a vow of support, of shared strength regardless of what the future held.

"I love you too," she responded, the words a lifeline in the uncertainty.

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A/N: Soooooooo, what do you think? What was your favourite part? And whatever shall happen next? I know some of you expressed not wanting the pregnancy to happen right now, but I think that's life, throwing unexpected curve balls and we all have to adapt. Plus, some of the comments made it seem like a couple and the love between them ceases to exist as soon as a pregnancy and child is added into the mix, and I found that rather heartbreaking. 

Also - I posted a new Wattpad book which is a series of non-sequential, unrelated one-shots/drabbles featuring either canon MeeraSim (aligning with the show) or alternate universe MeeraSim (new settings, etc). Some drabbles were originally posted on Twitter. It's called "Infinite Encounters: Love Across Universes" and you can find it here: https://www.wattpad.com/story/363565806-infinite-encounters-love-across-universes-tere-bin