Author's Note: Hi! I know it's been a few weeks since I've updated this fic, I got caught up in a new short story I've been writing for MeeraSim as part of "Infinite Encounters", my book of short MeeraSim AUs [A Lovesick Fool - https://www.wattpad.com/1464758604-infinite-encounters-love-across-universes-tere-bin]. With that wrapping up soon, I hope to be back to updating UM regularly. In this (long) chapter, we get MeeraSim being all kinds of cute and enjoying some time together before their choti shehzaadi arrives in the next chapter! I hope y'all enjoy it. 

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"I have spent Eid with a lot of people, but no one has had such a lavish spread for breakfast. You've truly outdone yourself, Aunty," Shahryar beamed at Maa Begum, his voice smooth, almost too smooth, as he praised the feast laid out before them.

Murtasim's eyes narrowed at his friend.

Was that a hint of flirtation in his tone?

And why did his mother—his usually stoic, no-nonsense mother—giggle in response? She looked positively pleased with herself, almost... delighted. His mother giggled? At Shahryar? She looked so pleased with herself, her cheeks even tinged with a hint of pink.

Murtasim's grip on his fork tightened.

Was Shahryar flirting with his mother now, too? The thought made his blood boil. He stabbed the piece of fruit on his plate with unnecessary force, the sound of the fork piercing the fruit ringing out in the otherwise peaceful room. The watermelon cube shuddered under the force, juice splattering slightly onto his plate.

Maa Begum reacted instantly, her sharp eyes catching the movement. "Murtasim! Did I not teach you how to eat properly?" she scolded, her voice carrying the familiar tone of authority – that's what she usually sounded like!

Murtasim clenched his jaw, but before he could respond, Shahryar turned to him, a wide grin plastered across his face. The nerve of this guy! Murtasim glared back at him, trying to convey through sheer force of will that he was not amused by this newfound charm of his friend.

Before he could act on his irritation, he felt a sharp elbow jab into his side. He turned to find Meerab giving him a pointed look.

"Stop it," she muttered under her breath, her eyes narrowing at him.

"He's flirting with Maa, too!" Murtasim hissed back, his frustration evident.

Meerab simply rolled her eyes and returned to her breakfast, clearly not as concerned as he was. She spooned up some of the shahi tukda, a satisfied smile crossing her face as she savored the rich, sweet dessert her father had placed close to her, knowing it was her favorite.

Meanwhile, Shahryar, oblivious to the internal turmoil he was causing Murtasim, leaned closer to Maa Begum. "What do you all usually do today?" he asked, his tone genuinely curious, though Murtasim suspected there was something more behind the question.

Even Chacha-Saab seemed to find the situation suspicious, his eyes flickering between Shahryar and Murtasim with a barely concealed smirk. He arched an eyebrow at Murtasim in a silent, what is going on? gesture, clearly entertained by the unexpected dynamic at the breakfast table.

"We spend most of the day in the village, giving out gifts and meeting with the villagers," Maa Begum responded with a warm smile, clearly enjoying the conversation.

"That's so nice of you all. I'm sure they appreciate it," Shahryar said, nodding as if he were genuinely impressed.

Murtasim rolled his eyes, not bothering to hide his disdain. This was Shahryar at his most insufferable—oozing charm, soaking up the attention, and somehow managing to get on everyone's good side, except Murtasim's. He could practically feel his teeth grinding together as he listened.

"It's just a way to thank them for all their support to our family. It's our job to take care of them, after all," Maa Begum beamed, clearly pleased with the way the conversation was going.

"They must love to see the Khannum there," Shahryar continued, flashing another one of those smiles that seemed to be working its magic on everyone.

Maa Begum laughed—a genuine, hearty laugh that made Murtasim freeze.

His mother laughed like that? Since when? And because of Shahryar, of all people?

Murtasim glanced across the table at Maryam, hoping for some silent sibling solidarity. But she was too busy staring at Shahryar with a dreamy expression, completely captivated by whatever nonsense he was spewing.

Turning to Meerab for some much-needed support, Murtasim found her entirely occupied with the shahi tukda. Her focus on the dessert was so intense that she might as well have been in another world.

Clearly, he was on his own in this battle.

With a deep sigh, Murtasim turned back to his food, resigning himself to listening to Shahryar continue his smooth talk with his mother. He stabbed another piece of fruit, though with less force this time, as he tried to ignore the growing sense of irritation bubbling up inside him.

"It should have been Meerab going this year, but she is much too pregnant to make the trip," Maa Begum said, turning the conversation towards Murtasim and Meerab.

Murtasim almost snorted at that.

It wasn't that Meerab was too pregnant – she was fit, she could walk for long periods of time, and she did exercises that even he would have difficulty with. It was more that they'd need to stop every fifteen minutes for her to find a bathroom, and there weren't exactly many of those as they got closer to the outskirts of the city.

"Of course," Shahryar chimed in, not missing a beat. "Meerab's health is the most important thing."

Murtasim clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to stab his fruit with a fork again. This man was entirely too good at playing the perfect guest, the perfect friend, the perfect... everything.

Meerab nudged him again, her foot tapping against his under the table. "Relax," she whispered softly, her voice soothing. "It's Eid. Try to enjoy it."

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Meerab stood by the large window in the foyer, watching as the cars were loaded up with gifts, the family bustling around, getting ready to head to the village for the day. Everyone except her. She felt a pang of longing, wishing she could join them. Her heart ached a little at the thought of being left behind.

She sighed, placing her hand on her swollen belly, feeling the gentle movements of her baby. "I guess it'll be a quiet Eid morning, just us two," she murmured softly to her baby, rubbing her stomach in slow, soothing circles. She started walking around the foyer, trying to get her steps in for the day, a habit that she had been prescribed to keep herself active and healthy during her pregnancy.

As she walked, lost in her thoughts, she heard the familiar sound of Maa Begum's brisk footsteps approaching. She turned to see her mother-in-law, looking every bit the regal Khannum, gliding towards her. Dressed in an exquisite pink suit with an embroidered pink shawl draped elegantly over her shoulders, and jewelry that matched perfectly, Maa Begum was the picture of grace and authority. Shabana, one of the housemaids, followed closely behind, holding various items.

Maa Begum walked straight towards Meerab, her eyes warm with affection. She reached into her bag and pulled out a wad of cash, circling it around Meerab while muttering a prayer under her breath. The gesture was swift and practiced. She then handed the cash to Shabana to donate, as was customary.

Then, without missing a beat, she grabbed a blue velvet box from Shabana and handed it to Meerab with a warm smile.

"Yeh kya hai?" Meerab asked, her confusion evident as she accepted the box.

"Tumhari eidi," Maa Begum replied, her smile growing wider.

Meerab couldn't help the grin that spread across her face. "I feel like a child," she said, laughing softly at the unexpected gift.

"Kholo," Maa Begum encouraged.

Meerab carefully opened the box, her breath catching in her throat as she took in the sight before her. Inside was an antique gold and stone set—a heavy, intricately designed choker necklace with matching earrings, and a ring that looked like three rings combined into one stunning piece.

"Yeh humare khaandaan mein bahot arse se rahe hain, aur ab iski alsi hakdaar tum ho, iss ghar ki beti aur bahu," Maa Begum said, her voice filled with affection.

Meerab's eyes welled up with tears, her emotions overwhelming her. "Thank you, it's beautiful," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion.

Maa Begum reached out and cupped Meerab's face in her hands, her touch gentle and affectionate. "Tum pehno gi toh aur ache lagenge," she said with a tender smile. Then, with a playful glint in her eye, she added, "Aaj mein akhri baar Eid par gaon jaa rahi hoon, agle saal se tumhe jaana hai...waise humari choti shehzaadi ko bhai-behen bhi chahiye - "

"Maa Begum," she groaned, "abhi nahi."

Maa Begum laughed, "pata hai, thode saal baad, tab mein gaon jaa sakti hoon tumhare liye."

Meerab nodded, her heart full. "Thank you," she repeated, her smile matching the warmth in Maa Begum's eyes.

Maa Begum smiled, her eyes lingering on Meerab's belly for a moment. "Chalo, mein chalti hoon, aaram karo aur meri poti ka khayal rakhna," she said before she turned and rushed off, her presence leaving a warmth in the air.

Meerab was still standing there, holding the precious box in her hands, when she noticed her father bounding down the stairs, a wrapped present in his hand.

"Meri eidi?" she asked, her voice light.

He nodded sheepishly, holding out the box to her. It was rather light despite its size, and Meerab's curiosity piqued as she took it from him.

"Kholo," he urged, his voice gentle but tinged with something deeper.

Meerab walked over to the futon by the large window, sitting down carefully and placing the box on her lap. She untied the ribbon and opened the lid, her breath catching as she saw what was inside. The box was filled with knitted goods—tiny hats, gloves, and two small sweaters—in soft pinks, purples, creams, and yellows. Each piece was meticulously crafted, clearly made with love.

She looked up at her father, confusion and surprise evident in her eyes.

"Tumhari ammi ne tumhare liye bune the...Nazia ko yakeen tha ki ladki hi hogi," he said softly as he sat beside her. "Meerab...tumhe toh inhe pehan nai ka mauka nahi mila, itne saalon se yeh ek almari mein band rahe..." He sighed. "Agar humari choti shehzaadi inhen pehanegi toh aapki ammi aur mujjhe dono ko bahot khushi hogi," he finished, his voice breaking slightly as tears filled his eyes. [Transaltion: Your mother knitted them for you...Nazia was sure we'd have a girl. Meerab...you never got a chance to wear these, they've been sitting in my closet for all these years. Your mother and I would both be very happy if our granddaughter got to wear them.]

Meerab felt her own tears spill over as her fingers delicately touched the little clothing. Each stitch seemed to carry the hopes and dreams her mother had once had for her, dreams that were now being passed on to her own child. She imagined her mother knitting each piece with care, likely as excited as Meerab was now about the arrival of her baby.

"Thank you," Meerab whispered, her voice trembling with emotion as she tried to hold back her tears.

Her father shook his head, his eyes glistening. "I am sorry," he said, his voice thick with regret.

Meerab shook her head, her tears flowing freely now. "Don't be," she whispered, her voice barely audible as she reached out to hold his hand.

Before she could find the right words, she heard Murtasim's familiar voice, warm and teasing, cut through the air. "Meri biwi ko kyun rula rahe hain aap, Chacha-saab?" Murtasim said as he descended the stairs, his eyes fixed on her, making her heart skip a beat.

He looked effortlessly handsome in his black shalwar-kameez, the dark fabric contrasting sharply with his freshly trimmed beard and the haircut that made him look even more dashing than usual. He looked dapper, to say the least, and Meerab couldn't help but smile at the sight of how his kameez fit him so well. The village women were definitely going to swoon, and the thought of not being there to stop them made her tears dry up very quickly.

Her father stood up then, a knowing smile on his face. "Mujhe Bhabi ke aane se pehle jaana chahiye, nahi toh woh chila-chila kar kahengi ki Shahryar aur Maryam ko chodkar sab unka blood pressure bada rahe hai," he said, his tone light as he patted Meerab's head affectionately.

He left quickly, likely trying to avoid the wrath of Maa Begum, who was surely orchestrating the departure like a general leading her troops. Meerab stood up as well, turning her full attention to her husband as he reached her.

His smile was as radiant as ever, and as he reached her, his hands found their way to her waist, wrapping around her protectively. His thumbs rubbed gentle circles over the sides of her stomach, tracing patterns on the fabric of her purple suit.

"Aaj aap zaroorat sai zyada khoobsurat lag rahi hai," he sighed, his voice filled with sincere admiration.

She smiled up at him, the warmth of his words sinking in. "Aap yeh keh chuke hai, lagbhag das baar, alag-alag tareekon sai," she teased, her voice filled with affection.

"Meri biwi hai hi itni khoobsurat," he grinned, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her nose. "Nice choodiyan, kisne leki di?"

"Koi tha, mele me khadoos." Meerab giggled as he pulled back, her eyes drifting over his handsome face. His sharp jawline, his neatly trimmed beard, the way his hair perfectly framed his features—he was so infuriatingly attractive. And then her eyes fell on the top few buttons of his kurta, left undone as usual. She frowned, her hands moving up to button them, one by one.

"Kitni baar kehna padega, button band rakha karo! Gaon ki saari ladkiyon ki nazar yahi hoti hai," she muttered, her fingers working deftly. "Aur aaj main vahan unhe ghoorne ke liye nahi hongi," she added with a pout, her hands coming to rest on his chest.

His warmth seeped through the fabric, and she could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under her palm.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest.

She glared up at him, her tone half-serious, half-playful. "Stop trying to be sexy for them."

He hummed, his hands tightening around her waist, pulling her a little closer. "Yeh aap ke liye thaa," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine.

She rolled her eyes, unable to suppress the smile tugging at her lips. "Jao, sab intezaar kar rahe hai," she urged, though part of her didn't want him to leave.

He shook his head, a playful smile dancing on his lips. "Mein aap ko chhod kar jaa sakta hoon?" he teased, his words laced with affection as he looked down at her.

"But..." she trailed off, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. She knew he was planning to go, that he had responsibilities to the family and the village.

"Maa aur Chacha-Saab sambhal lenge," he reassured her, his voice calm. "Maryam, Shahryar, Bhaktu, aur Saim bhi hai."

Meerab raised an eyebrow, intrigued now. "Toh hum kya kar rahe hai?" she asked, a smile beginning to tug at her lips.

He pretended to think for a moment, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Hmmm... hum apne kamre mein waapis jaa sakte hai..." He grinned and started trailing his hand up under her kameez, "...aur dekh sakte hai ki iske neeche aap ne kya pehna hai—" He didn't get to finish the sentence because she whacked him playfully on the shoulder, her cheeks flushing.

"Mein aise hi itni tayaar nahi hui hoon! Sochna bhi maat!" she whined. Although she couldn't deny that his words were slightly tempting, she had spent too long getting ready this morning to have it all undone so quickly.

"Ofsos." He sighed, feigning disappointment. "Acha, chalo phir," he said, his tone resigned but still playful.

Meerab raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Kahan?" she asked, trying to decipher his intentions.

Murtasim leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "It's a surprise."

She pouted instantly, her curiosity piqued. "Murtasim, batao!" she urged, her eyes widening as she tried to coax the information out of him.

But he simply shook his head, his lips curving into a teasing grin.

"Murtasimmmmmm," she whined, drawing out his name in a sing-song voice, hoping to get him to spill the secret.

He made that familiar, mischievous face, the one he always wore before saying something scandalous. "Waise mera naam pehle behter sound kar raha tha, jab aap –" Her hand flew over his mouth, stopping him mid-sentence as her eyes darted around to ensure no one from the staff was within earshot.

"Shut up!" she hissed, horrified.

"Ew!" she squealed as she felt his tongue run across her palm.

"Ew?" Murtasim repeated, feigning offense as he gently pulled her hand away from his mouth.

She nodded firmly, making a face.

He scoffed at her reaction and, in retaliation, cupped her face and kissed her wildly, not caring about the mess he was making of her lipstick. The suddenness of it made her heart race, the intensity of his kiss catching her off guard.

She whacked him lightly as he pulled away. "Kya kar rahe ho? Kisi ne dekh liya toh—" she scolded, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment at the thought of being caught.

"Toh?" he cut in, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Humari choti shehzadi aise hi nahi aaye, unhe pata—"

She whacked him again before he could finish his sentence, her cheeks turning a deeper shade of pink. He was impossible!

Murtasim sighed dramatically before sitting down on the futon behind her, turning her so that her stomach was level with his face as she stood in front of her. He placed his hands on her waist, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to her belly. "Aap ki ammi mujhe phir maar rahi hai," he said to her stomach, his voice filled with mock sadness.

Meerab couldn't help but join in on the playful conversation. "Aap ke abbu kaafi annoying hai," she said, directing her words to her stomach, a grin tugging at her lips.

Murtasim wasn't done, though. He patted her stomach softly, as if giving their baby a heads-up. "Thodi der mein aap ko sach khud hi pata chal jayega."

Meerab couldn't resist the urge to whack him again, shaking her head at his antics.

"See!" he exclaimed, looking right at her stomach as if their daughter would somehow understand and agree with him.

"Shut up, aur chalo," she ordered, trying to suppress the smile that threatened to break through.

He sighed dramatically, looking up at her with a pout that was far too cute for his own good. "Is this the part of pregnancy where women start hating their husbands?" he asked, his voice laced with exaggerated sorrow.

Meerab couldn't help herself. He looked so endearing, so genuinely adorable, that her fingers instinctively reached out to run through the strands of his hair that fell over his forehead. She let her fingers trail down, brushing lightly against his freshly cut beard. "Shayad," she grinned, loving the way he melted under her touch.

"Meerab, yaar," he sighed, his shoulders slumping as if he had been defeated.

She giggled, unable to keep up the act any longer. "Acha, I don't hate you..."

"Maybe you'll like me more after the surprise," he offered, hope glimmering in his eyes.

She shrugged playfully. "Kya pata," she teased, thoroughly enjoying the way he was trying to win her over.

"Let's go then," he said, his excitement palpable.

"I have to go get my purse... and use the bathroom," she said, her voice tinged with the practicality that had become second nature during her pregnancy. An empty bladder was a good bladder, after all.

He nodded, understanding completely. There was no rushing a pregnant woman when it came to such matters.

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Meerab's confusion deepened as Murtasim gently guided her towards the other end of the driveway. Her steps slowed as they approached a car she hadn't seen before—a vintage red Mercedes, gleaming under the morning sun. She tilted her head, eyebrows furrowed as she tried to make sense of it.

"Yeh kya hai?" she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity as she took in the sleek, classic lines of the car. It was beautiful, a stark contrast to the modern vehicles usually parked in the driveway.

Murtasim grinned, a small, nostalgic smile playing on his lips. "Abbu ki car," he replied, the fondness in his tone unmistakable.

Meerab looked up at him, her eyes searching his face as they walked towards the car together. There was something tender in the way he spoke, a softness that tugged at her heart.

"Jab Maryam aur mein bahot chote the, Abbu hume Eid ke din iss gaddi mein ghumate-ghumate ice-cream dilaane lekar jaate the," he continued, his voice filled with warmth.

Meerab couldn't help but smile at the image he painted—two little children, filled with excitement, riding around in this very car, with their father taking them for ice cream on Eid. The thought of Murtasim as a little boy, his eyes wide with joy, made her heart swell with affection.

"Yeh ab tak kahan thi?" she asked, genuinely curious about where the car had been all this time.

"In the garage," he explained as they reached the passenger side door. "I just had the engine replaced."

She leaned against the clean, polished car, her hands instinctively resting on her stomach. "Toh hum apni choti shehzadi ke liye ice-cream lene jaa rahe hai?" she guessed playfully, a teasing lilt in her voice.

Of course, the ice cream would be more for her, but he didn't need to know that.

Murtasim laughed, the sound rich and full of joy. "No," he said, shaking his head slightly as he opened the car door for her.

As the door swung open, Meerab gasped, her eyes widening in surprise. Nestled in the handle were red and pink roses, their petals vibrant against the dark-colored interior of the car. A small note was tucked among the flowers, the words "Eid Mubarak" scrawled across it in elegant handwriting. A smile spread across her face, her heart fluttering at the thoughtful gesture.

She reached out to grab the door, but Murtasim beat her to it, plucking a single red rose from the handle and holding it out to her with a playful grin. "Red roses meri biwi ke liye," he said, his voice laced with affection.

Meerab giggled, taking the rose from him and bringing it to her nose, inhaling the fresh, floral scent.

"And the pink?" she asked, her gaze shifting from the red rose in her hand to the pink ones still nestled in the handle beside the other red roses.

Murtasim's expression softened, his hand moving to rest gently on her stomach. "Meri choti shehzadi ke liye," he whispered, his voice full of love.

Her heart melted at his words. He was always so sweet, so considerate—his love for both her and their unborn daughter evident in every little thing he did. She felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. "I love you, Murtasim," she said, her voice soft yet filled with the depth of her feelings.

He grinned, that beautiful smile of his lighting up his face, making her fall in love with him all over again. "I love you too, meri jaan," he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering against her skin as if sealing his love into her very being.

Murtasim helped her into the car with the utmost care, as though she were made of glass. Once she was comfortably settled in the plush seat, he leaned over and rolled her window halfway down, making her laugh out loud. It was the kind of mechanical window crank she hadn't seen in ages, and the nostalgia of it brought a warm smile to her face.

He grinned at her reaction, pleased with himself as he closed the door and walked over to his side. Once inside, he rolled his window all the way down, letting the breeze whip through the car as he pulled out of the driveway. The cool wind played with her hair, gently tousling it as she basked in the simple pleasure of the moment.

Without missing a beat, Murtasim's hand found its way to her belly. With one hand on the steering wheel and the other on her tummy, he seemed completely at ease, like this was the most natural thing in the world.

"Zyada door nahin jaa sakte," Meerab reminded him, her voice soft but amused. "Tumhari choti shehzadi aaj ajeeb behave kar rahi hai, abhi tak toh bladder ko kick nahi maara, par kisi bhi pal par shuru hojaye gi." Meerab added as she placed her hand atop his on her belly, enjoying the warmth of his touch.

He snickered, glancing over at her with that boyish grin that always made her heart flutter. "Aap ke sone ke baad, meine aur meri choti shehzadi ne baat ki thi," he said, his tone playful. "She promised ki woh apni ammi ko aaj taang nahi karegi."

Meerab rolled her eyes, but couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips. He was so incredibly cute when he talked like that.

"But phir bhi," he continued, his voice brimming with confidence, "Mere dimaag mein ek clean washrooms wala map hai."

Her eyes narrowed in playful suspicion. "Bata hi do ki hum kahan jaa rahe hain," she prodded.

"Meri marzi," he teased, his tone dripping with affection.

She sighed dramatically, but there was no real annoyance behind it. Instead, she reached over and turned on the radio, and an old melody crackled to life through the speakers. "A car not connected to a phone... kya din the," she mused.

Murtasim laughed, a deep, rich sound that filled the car. "Maa ko radio se sakht nafrat thi. Abbu hamesha full volume par sunte the."

She nodded, reminiscing. "Baba too—especially jab news aati thi. Ya Allah, Mama hated it."

"Must be a wife thing," he shrugged, glancing at her with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

She snickered, "Shayad humari choti shehzadi ke aane ke baad mujhe tumhari harkaatein bhi annoying lagengi," she teased.

"Pehle se nahi lagti?" he teased back, his smile wide and playful.

"Only some things," she smiled, leaning back in her seat.

"You yelled at me two days ago about fluffing the pillow wrong," he pointed out, his tone light but teasing.

Meerab sighed, a touch of guilt creeping in. "I'm hormonal and my back hurt."

"I know, meri jaan. Just a few more weeks," he said softly, his voice filled with understanding and love.

Meerab rubbed her stomach, feeling a connection to their baby with every gentle caress. "Soon," she murmured, a sense of anticipation filling her.

She watched as he got onto the highway towards Karachi, a familiar route. "Hum Karachi jaa rahe hain?" she asked, curious and a little excited at the prospect.

"No," he said simply, his tone deliberately vague.

"Murtasim, I can read," she laughed, noticing the signs pointing towards Karachi.

"Close your eyes," he instructed, his voice taking on a playful, secretive edge.

"Nahi," she laughed again, her curiosity piqued. "Mama aur Baba se milne jaa rahe hain?" she asked, the excitement evident in her voice.

"Agar aap bhool gayi hain, mein aap ko yaad dila doon ki woh dono aaj raat dinner ke liye humare ghar aarahe hain," he reminded her with a smile.

That was true. They had plans for dinner, which she was looking forward to.

"Toh phir?" she asked, her curiosity bubbling over. Where on earth were they going?

"I hope ki humari choti shehzadi apni ammi ke jitne sawal nahi poochegi," he sighed, pretending to be exasperated.

Meerab snickered, "Probably more—I have a feeling."

Murtasim let out a mock sigh, as if resigned to his fate, earning himself a gentle whack on the arm from Meerab.

"Aankhen band karo," he said, his voice soothing.

Meerab yawned, feeling a sudden wave of drowsiness. "Hmmm, mujhe sone mat dena," she mumbled as she obediently closed her eyes, her hand still resting on her belly.

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Murtasim had let her fall asleep.

When Meerab slowly opened her eyes, they were parked. The soft morning light filtered through the trees, casting gentle shadows on the dashboard. She blinked a couple of times, trying to shake off the grogginess, and turned towards Murtasim, only to find him staring at her with a tender smile on his face.

"Kya?" she asked, her voice thick with sleep and confusion.

"Aap neend mein badbada rahi thi," he said, the amusement in his eyes unmistakable.

"Kya?" she repeated, now more curious than confused.

"Baaki sab toh samajh nahi aaya," he began, the grin on his face growing wider, "par baar baar mera naam le rahi thi. 'Murtasim, Murtasim, Murtasim,'" he mimicked her in a soft, teasing voice, clearly delighted by his discovery.

"Beech mein zaroor 'you are so annoying' bhi kaha hoga,'" she retorted, rolling her eyes but unable to hide her own smile.

He laughed, the sound rich and filled with affection. "We're here, by the way," he said, his tone turning gentle as he gestured towards the view outside her window.

It took her a moment to remember why they had gotten into the car in the first place. The sleep had wiped her mind clean, but now, curiosity piqued, she quickly looked out the window.

Her breath caught in her throat as she recognized where they were—the dargah they had visited together that night. The very place where everything had changed between them. She hadn't been here since that day, but the memories came flooding back in an overwhelming rush.

She felt tears well up in her eyes, the emotions too intense to control. It wasn't just the pregnancy hormones—this place held so much significance now in a way she had never thought it would. It was the place where the hatred she had once felt for Murtasim had started to melt away, leaving something else, something warmer, in its place.

That night had been strange, filled with emotions she hadn't fully understood. She had felt so alone, abandoned by the world. But Murtasim had been by her side, a steady presence in the midst of her turmoil. He had become her shadow in a way she hadn't anticipated. Perhaps "shadow" wasn't the right word, she mused—he had been more like the sun on a cold, dark night. A ray of hope, even though she hadn't wanted to admit it at the time. A ray she had decided to hold onto, even when everything seemed to be falling apart.

He had told her she could come with him that night, his eyes holding a softness she had never seen before. A softness that had confused her, yet comforted her in equal measure. She had been blind to the possibility of a happy life with him, so consumed by her own pain and fear. That Meerab had cried, feeling utterly lost, praying for courage and for everything to be okay again.

Her mind drifted back to the man who had approached her that night, telling her that everything was meant to happen as it did, that her prayers had been heard. At the time, she had felt nothing but despair, thinking her prayers had fallen on deaf ears. But looking back now, she realized that everything had changed because of that night, leading her to the life she had today—a life she never could have imagined loving as much as she did.

If that Meerab knew what her life would be like now, married to Murtasim, carrying his child, she would have never believed it.

She turned to Murtasim, her voice shaky. "Hum yahan kyun aaye hain?" she asked, sniffling as she tried to compose herself.

"Yaheen mujhse shaadi karne ka faisla kiya tha naa?" he muttered softly, his gaze unwavering.

She nodded, the tears still threatening to spill over.

"It made sense to come back... jahan seh shuruaat hui thi," he said softly, his eyes reflecting the same emotions that she was feeling.

Despite the tears, she found herself giggling, her hand instinctively going to her stomach. "Agar koi uss Meerab se kehta ki woh tumse pyaar karne lage gi aur tumhare bache ki maa bankar khush hogi... woh paagal ho jati," she admitted.

He chuckled softly. "Mein bhi...pehle shock se par phir shayad khushi se," he agreed, the sound of his laughter sending warmth through her chest.

He reached over and took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it. "I love you," he whispered, his eyes never leaving hers.

Her heart fluttered, the familiar but ever-new sensation of love filling her completely. "I love you too, Murtasim," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

His grin widened, his happiness evident in the way his eyes crinkled at the corners. Then, without another word, he got out of the car and came around to her side, helping her out as well. His hands were gentle, steadying her as she stepped onto the ground.

The dargah was just as peaceful as it had been that tumultuous night, perhaps even more so. The air was filled with a quiet reverence, a serenity that wrapped around them like a comforting embrace. Where she had once raced ahead of Murtasim in a desperate bid to find some semblance of peace, they now walked side by side, their steps in perfect sync.

Together, they prayed for the same thing—the safe arrival of their choti shehzadi and for their continued happiness as a family. It was a simple prayer but one that held all the love and hope in the world.

When it came time to tie their mannat strings, they didn't stand on opposite sides of the wall as they had before. This time, they tied one string, together, standing on the same side. Their fingers brushed as they wrapped the string around the iron grate, each knot tied with love, hope, and a silent promise to each other.

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Meerab held the cold pistachio-flavored ice cream in her hands, the coolness of the treat a welcome relief from the growing warmth of the day. The little ice cream shop they had stopped at was quaint, with a vibrant awning that provided a bit of shade. Murtasim had chosen butter pecan, his usual preference, and they both sat in the car now, parked under a large tree that provided them with some privacy.

The windows of the vintage red Mercedes were rolled halfway down, letting in a soft breeze that rustled through her hair as she took a small, satisfying bite of her ice cream. Murtasim was already halfway through his own, and she couldn't help but notice the way the rich, creamy texture of the butter pecan looked, making her crave it despite having her own cup.

She snuck a glance at her husband, the mischievous idea forming in her mind as he brought the spoon to his mouth. "Zyada der tak yeh sab nahin chalega," she thought to herself, before scooting a little closer and leaning in.

As he took his next bite, she casually reached over and scooped some of his butter pecan with her spoon. Before he could react, she quickly popped it into her mouth, savoring the flavor with a satisfied hum.

Murtasim turned to her, an incredulous look on his face. "Tumhari khud ki ice cream hai!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with playful annoyance.

She gave him an innocent smile, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Mujhe pistachio hi chahiye thi... lekin tumhari choti shehzadi ko butter pecan pasand aa gayi, mein kya karoon?" she pouted, patting her stomach with mock seriousness.

Murtasim narrowed his eyes at her, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Acha? Meri choti shehzadi ko sirf meri cheezon mein interest hai?" he teased.

She giggled, dipping her spoon into his cup again and taking another bite. "Haan, uski ammi ko bhi tum hi pasand ho toh kya kar sakte hai? Tumhe koi problem hai?" she asked, raising an eyebrow as she relished the taste.

He let out a mock sigh, shaking his head in exaggerated resignation. "Mujhe kaisi problem ho sakti hai? he replied, his voice full of mock seriousness as he took another bite of his now rapidly disappearing ice cream.

Meerab's laughter rang out, light and full of joy. "Good," she declared as she leaned over and took another bite.

Murtasim shook his head, grinning despite himself. "Pata hota toh teen ice creams leta," he muttered under his breath, though there was no real irritation in his tone.

"Acha, aakhri bite," she said, holding up her spoon with a small portion of his ice cream on it, as if making a grand gesture of generosity.

He leaned forward, capturing her hand and bringing her spoon to his mouth instead. "Theek hai, aakhri bite," he agreed, taking the bite and then immediately leaning in to steal a bite from her cup as well.

She gasped. "Murtasim! Yeh meri ice cream hai!" she protested, trying to hold it away from him.

Murtasim's laughter echoed through the car, warm and rich, as he leaned in closer to her. "Acha?" he repeated, his voice teasing, his breath warm against her cheek.

Before she could protest further, he closed the distance between them, capturing her lips in a kiss. The taste of the two ice creams—her pistachio and his butter pecan—mingled together on their tongues, creating a delightful mix of flavors that was both cool and creamy. The pistachio's subtle nuttiness blended perfectly with the buttery richness of the pecan, making the kiss feel like a soft, sweet indulgence.

Meerab sighed into the kiss, the sensation of the cold and sweet melting together in the warmth of their mouths sending a shiver of pleasure down her spine. Her hands found their way to the back of his neck, pulling him closer as she deepened the kiss. Murtasim's hand cupped her cheek gently, his thumb brushing against her soft skin as he kissed her with a tenderness that melted her heart.

Just as she was beginning to lose herself in the sweetness of the kiss, she felt a sudden, sharp movement against her belly. She pulled back, gasping in surprise.

Murtasim immediately noticed her reaction and looked down at her rounded belly. "Kya hua?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

Meerab smiled, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of amusement and wonder. She placed his hand on her stomach, guiding it to where she had felt the movement. "Lagta hai hamari choti shehzadi yaad dila rahi hai ke woh bhi yahan hai," she said, laughing softly.

Murtasim's face broke into a wide, joyful grin as he felt the little kick against his hand. "Usse ice cream chahiye," he chuckled, his hand gently rubbing her belly, feeling the strong little kicks from within.

She covered his hand with her own. "Woh bilkul apne abbu par gayi hai—hamesha har cheez mein taang addati hai," she teased, her voice soft and full of affection.

Murtasim leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her belly, his lips lingering on the spot where he felt Meesam kick again. "Taang nahi, pure ka pura ad jaana chahiye, Meesam," he whispered against her stomach, his voice filled with love.

Meerab couldn't help but laugh at his playful command. She placed her hand on his cheek, the touch soft, guiding his face back up to hers. Her eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and fondness as she teased him, "Waise tum un dino kaafi annoying the."

Murtasim's eyes narrowed slightly, but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed his feigned offense. "Annoying nahi...persistent," he corrected, his voice carrying that familiar blend of humor and arrogance. His hand moved from her belly to gently tap it with his fingertips. "Nahi toh yeh kaha se aati?" he added, his grin widening as he pointed out the obvious proof of their love.

She rolled her eyes at his cheeky remark, but her smile only grew wider. "Chain pehna kar seduce kar rahe the?" she quipped, raising an eyebrow at him as she remembered those early days and what felt like tricks.

"Tumhe kya lagta hai, Meerab?" he shot back, his tone teasing, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against her lips.

"Shaitaan." She muttered.

"Thank you kehna chahiye tumhe," he teased back, his voice dropping to that low, seductive tone that always made her knees weak.

Meerab rolled her eyes again, but she couldn't hide the smile playing on her lips. She reached up and patted his face lightly, her touch gentle but her words full of mock exasperation. "Mein toh hoon hi nashukri," she said, her tone laced with sarcasm as she repeated the words he had once said to her.

Murtasim smirked as he leaned in closer. "Tumhe thank you kehna toh bohot achi tarah aata hai, Meerab," he reminded her, his voice teasing but with a hint of challenge.

Meerab rolled her eyes, but her smile widened as she cupped his face with both hands. "Fine," she muttered, trying to hide her amusement as she pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, her lips lingering just long enough to make him smile.

But before she could pull away, Murtasim turned his face slightly, presenting his other cheek. She huffed, pretending to be annoyed, but obliged anyway, pressing another kiss to his other cheek.

Murtasim closed his eyes for a moment, a smile on his face, but then he raised his hand to his lips, brushing them lightly with his fingers as if waiting for something more. He looked at her expectantly, his expression half teasing, half serious.

Meerab caught the look and couldn't help but laugh. "Murtasim," she scolded, her tone affectionate as she shook her head, but she didn't move to kiss him again.

He whined softly, the sound making her chuckle as she turned her attention back to her ice cream, taking a deliberately slow bite. "Iss ke liye ghar jaana padega," she said with a smirk, her voice light and teasing.

Murtasim's eyes lit up at her words, and a slow grin spread across his face. "Acha? Aur ghar jaa kar hum kya karenge?" He murmured, clearly pleased with the prospect.

She shrugged playfully, taking another bite of her ice cream as if she hadn't just promised something enticing. "Dekhte hain," she added nonchalantly.

Murtasim shook his head, still grinning as he started the car. "Such a tease," he muttered under his breath, his voice filled with fondness as he reached out to take her hand in his.

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

The seating area outside their bedroom felt like a secret hideaway, where the world outside ceased to exist. The doors were locked, the rest of the house fading into oblivion as they focused solely on each other. The air between them crackled with a playful energy.

Meerab was straddling Murtasim's lap, her legs on either side of him, the soft fabric of her kameez brushing against his thighs as she cupped his face with both hands. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, her lips curving into a teasing smile as she leaned in, pressing kisses all over his face. She started with his cheeks, moved to his jaw, and playfully grazed the corners of his mouth, each kiss quick and light like butterfly wings fluttering against his skin.

Murtasim tried to keep up, his own hands busy exploring the curves of her body, his fingers tracing the gentle swell of her growing belly. But Meerab was relentless, her laughter bubbling up as she continued her playful assault, determined to out-kiss him.

Every time he leaned in for her lips, she darted away, planting kisses elsewhere on his face, her giggles filling the air around them.

He loved that sound.

Not one to back down from a challenge, Murtasim finally caught her mouth with his, their laughter muffled as they kissed. His hands slid up her sides, savoring the feel of her beneath the fabric of her kameez, his fingers brushing against her soft skin. He deepened the kiss, pouring his love and playful affection into every movement, determined to reclaim the upper hand.

Meerab's hands tangled in his hair as she tilted his head to capture his lips again and again. Their playful competition quickly escalated, each of them trying to outdo the other, their mouths finding new places to kiss—a kiss on the nose, one on the chin, then back to the lips, the sound of their laughter mingling with the heat of their kisses.

"Are you tired?" he murmured against her lips, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her. His hands rested on her belly, gently caressing the life growing within her.

She shook her head, a teasing smile tugging at her lips, "Not at all," she whispered back, her eyes dark with mischief.

Without another word, he reached for the hem of her kameez, pushing it up, and she lifted her arms to help him pull it over her head, throwing it behind her to join the dupatta she had thrown somewhere. The deep purple of her bra matched the suit she'd been wearing earlier, but now it looked even more sinful, the cups struggling to contain the fullness of her breasts, the creamy skin spilling over the top, inviting his touch.

Murtasim's hands moved to her chest, cupping her breasts, squeezing them gently, feeling their full, heavy weight in his palms. His eyes locked onto hers, a spark of heat passing between them as his thumbs brushed over her nipples through the lace, teasing the sensitive peaks. He watched her closely, searching her face for any sign of discomfort.

"Not sensitive?" he asked, his voice low, rough with desire, his gaze never leaving hers.

Meerab held his gaze, her breath catching as she shook her head slowly, letting him know she was okay, more than okay. She bit her lower lip, the corners of her mouth curling into a teasing smile, her eyes dark with want.

He leaned in, capturing her mouth in a deep, hungry kiss. His tongue slid against hers, tasting, teasing, his hands squeezing her breasts with more confidence now, his touch both tender and possessive. The heat between them flared, the kiss growing more urgent as he trailed his lips down her neck, his movements slow, deliberate, savoring the taste of her skin, the way she responded to him.

Meerab's head fell back, exposing more of her neck to him, her breath hitching as his lips moved lower, kissing, nipping, sucking at the sensitive skin along her collarbone. He hooked his fingers under the straps of her bra, pulling them down her shoulders, letting the cups slip under her breasts, leaving them bare, full, and heavy in his hands.

He didn't hold back. He lowered his mouth to one of her nipples, sucking it into his mouth, his tongue flicking over the hardened peak, tasting her, savoring her. "Mmm, Murtasim... ahhh," she moaned, her voice breathy, her hands diving into his hair, pulling him closer, needing more.

He switched to the other breast, giving it the same attention, his mouth hot and wet against her skin, his teeth grazing her nipple, biting just enough to make her gasp, her hips grinding against him as she sought out friction. The way she moaned, the way her body moved against his, it was driving him crazy, every sound she made stoking the fire that was burning hotter with each passing second.

Meerab tugged at his kameez, her fingers desperate, pulling at the fabric, wanting to feel his skin against hers. He pulled back just long enough to yank the black kurta over his head, tossing it aside, before his lips were on hers again, his hands back on her breasts, kneading, playing, making her moan into his mouth.

Her hands roamed over his chest, her fingers tracing the lines of his muscles, her touch light, teasing. She kissed down his neck, her lips pressing against the corded muscles, her teeth grazing his skin, leaving small marks that would remind him of this moment later. She kissed across his shoulders, her mouth moving lower, but then she paused, letting out a soft, frustrated whine, "My stomach's in the way," she complained, pouting slightly as she looked up at him.

He couldn't help but laugh, the sound deep and rich, filled with love as he caressed her stomach, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "You're so cute," he murmured, his voice warm with affection, his hands soothing over the curve of her belly.

She pouted, "it's not cute," she whined.

Murtasim moved them then, gently shifting her off his lap and onto the sofa so she was sitting comfortably. He knelt on the ground in front of her, his eyes dark as they traveled over her body. She was breathtaking, her bra pushed down under her breasts, her swollen stomach. The sight of her, carrying his child, looking so ready for him, made his chest tighten with something that was more than just desire.

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her purple bottoms, pulling them down her legs, revealing the matching purple panties that clung to her hips. The sight made his mouth water. He left the panties on, deliberately drawing out the moment, his eyes drinking in how they framed her, the contrast of the deep purple against her skin driving him wild.

Every curve, every inch of her was so full, so beautiful, so utterly irresistible that he knew he'd miss her like this.

Murtasim leaned in, pressing kisses to her stomach, lingering on the soft skin, feeling the warmth radiating from her. His lips trailed lower, his breath hot against her skin, as his hands slid up her thighs, spreading them wider. He kissed along her inner thigh, moving slowly, savoring every inch of her as she squirmed beneath him, desperate for more. Her scent, her arousal filled his senses, making him groan softly, the sound vibrating against her skin.

When he finally reached the edge of her panties, he paused, looking up at her. His eyes locked onto hers, dark and hungry, as he slowly pushed the fabric aside, exposing her slick, glistening folds. The sight of her, so wet, so ready for him, made his cock throb painfully in his pants.

Without a moment's hesitation, he buried his face between her legs, his tongue lashing out to taste her, to lap up every drop of her arousal. The taste of her was addictive, sweet and salty and utterly intoxicating. He licked her with long, slow strokes, savoring the way her body jerked against him, the way her breath caught in her throat.

"Murtasim... ahh, yes," Meerab moaned, her hips jerking against his mouth, her hands flying to his hair, fingers tangling in the strands as she tried to pull him closer, desperate for more. She was already a mess, her body trembling with need, her thighs trembling as his tongue flicked over her clit, teasing her, making her whimper with every pass.

He didn't hold back, couldn't hold back, the hunger in him too strong. His mouth was relentless, his tongue moving over her clit with practiced precision, swirling around it, flicking it, before sucking it into his mouth, hard, the sensation sending shockwaves through her body.

"O-ohh!" she cried out, her voice breathy, desperate. Her hands tightened in his hair, her fingers pulling him closer, her hips rolling against his face, trying to take him deeper, to feel every inch of his tongue inside her.

She was already so wet, so ready, her taste driving him wild as he devoured her. He could feel her trembling, could hear the way her breath hitched, the way she moaned his name, her voice thick with need.

He could tell she was close, could feel the way her body tensed, the way her thighs clenched around his head. He pushed her harder, his mouth moving faster, his tongue flicking her clit with ruthless precision, drawing out every moan, every cry, every desperate plea from her lips.

"Murtasimmmmmmm, so clo... ahhh, don't stop, please, don't stop!" she begged, her voice breaking.

He wasn't stopping.

He sucked her clit into his mouth, harder this time, his tongue flicking over it again and again, driving her higher, making her moan louder, her body writhing as the pleasure built, as it overwhelmed her.

And then she broke.

Her orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, her body convulsing, her thighs squeezing his head as she came hard, her cries filling the room, "M-Murtasimmmmmm!" Her body shook, her back arching off the sofa, every muscle tensing as the pleasure crashed over her, leaving her trembling, gasping for breath.

But he wasn't done. He kept going, kept licking, sucking, driving her higher, making her moan louder, her body writhing as the pleasure overwhelmed her. She sobbed, her hands pushing at his head, trying to push him away, but he was stronger, his hands wrapping around her thighs, holding her in place as he continued, his mouth devouring her, pushing her to the brink once more.

"Murtasim, no, no, it's too much—ahh!" she sobbed, her voice breaking as her body bucked against him, caught between the overwhelming pleasure and the desperate need for more

And then it happened again. Her second orgasm tore through her, even more intense than the first, her body convulsing, her back arching off the sofa as she came again. She screamed his name, her voice hoarse.

Finally, when she was nothing more than a quivering, sobbing mess, he pulled back, pressing soft, tender kisses to her thighs, rubbing her skin soothingly, his own body shaking with the effort of holding back his need. He needed her, needed to be inside her, but he forced himself to be patient, to take his time, knowing she was already so sensitive.

He stood, hands still shaking with desire, and pushed his shalwar and boxers down, freeing his cock, hard and throbbing, aching for her. Her eyes were closed, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to catch her breath. But when she opened her eyes and saw him, saw the way he was thick, heavy, and ready for her, she let out a soft whimper.

Murtasim smiled, pulling her up to stand, pressing a tender kiss to her shoulder, savoring the warmth of her skin beneath his lips. He turned her around, positioning her with her back to him, his hands on her hips as he kissed the small of her back as he sat on the couch, trailing his lips lower, pressing a sharp bite to her ass. She squealed, the sound sweet and breathy, a noise that sent another jolt of arousal straight through him.

She was still trembling, still recovering from her orgasms, her voice shaky as she murmured, "I... I can't take more, Murtasim..."

He chuckled softly, his hands rubbing soothing circles over her hips, his lips pressing gentle kisses along her spine. "Yeah, you can," he whispered against her skin, his voice thick with affection and lust. "We'll go slow. Whatever you need."

She looked over her shoulder at him, her eyes half-lidded, filled with a mix of exhaustion and desire, and nodded.

Murtasim guided her down onto his lap, his hands steady on her hips as he let her sink slowly onto his cock, facing away from him. The sensation of her tight, wet heat wrapping around him made him groan, "Fuck, Meerab..." The way she enveloped him, snug and warm, nearly sent him over the edge right then. He held her there for a moment, savoring the way she felt, the way her body stretched to take him in.

He supported her stomach with one hand, the other gripping her hip, helping her move as she adjusted to the deep penetration. Her breaths came in soft, her hands going to his knees, steadying herself, trembling gasps left her as she began to rock her hips, the motion slow and deliberate, her body getting used to the sensation of him inside her. Murtasim pressed kisses to her shoulder, her neck, her back, his lips trailing over her skin, his breath hot against her as he whispered words of love, of need.

She leaned back against his chest, her body molding to his as she moved, her movements short and rhythmic, the position allowing her to control the depth, the angle. The way she rocked against him, her hips moving in small, deliberate circles, drove him wild, each roll of her hips sending jolts of pleasure through him.

His hands guided her hips, pushing her down onto him again and again, the friction building, the heat between them growing with each thrust. The way she felt around him, tight, wet, and so fucking hot, made him groan into her mouth, the sensation almost too much to bear.

She moaned his name, her body trembling with every movement, every thrust, the angle driving her wild. He could feel the pressure building with each roll of her hips, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she rode him.

His hands moved from her hips, one sliding up to cup her breast, the other slipping between her legs to find her clit. He rubbed it in tight circles, matching the rhythm of her movements, adding to the pleasure, making her gasp, making her moan louder, her voice trembling with need. Her body tensed.

"Murtasimmmmmmmmmmmm..." she whimpered, her voice trailing off into a moan, her body clenching around him, her walls tightening as she teetered on the brink of release.

"Let go, Meerab," he groaned, his voice rough with need, his hands tightening on her hips, helping her move, guiding her, pushing her over the edge.

And she did. Her body shook, her breath catching in her throat as her orgasm crashed over her in waves, the pleasure so intense it made her cry out his name, her nails digging into his thighs as she clung to him. The way she clenched around him, the way her body trembled, drove him wild, pushing him to the edge right along with her.

Murtasim followed her, his cock throbbing inside her as he came, filling her with his release, his hands still holding her close, supporting her, loving her, as they both rode out the last waves of pleasure together. His breath was hot against her neck, his lips pressing tender kisses to her skin, his hands soothing over her body, holding her tight.

As the last waves of their shared pleasure began to fade, Meerab slumped back against Murtasim's chest, her body spent, her breathing hard and uneven. He held her close, his arms wrapped around her protectively, his lips pressing soft, tender kisses to her neck, her shoulders, the taste of her skin still lingering on his tongue.

"I love you," he whispered against her ear, his voice low and filled with a deep, abiding tenderness. He could feel her heartbeat slowly calming against him, the warmth of her body seeping into his, grounding him in the moment.

Meerab hummed happily in response, a soft, contented sound that made his heart swell with love. She shifted slightly, her body fitting perfectly against his, their connection still palpable, still electric even in the quiet aftermath of their lovemaking.

He nuzzled her neck, his lips brushing against the curve of her jaw, his hands moving soothingly over her belly, feeling the life they had created together. "We should shower and do your massages for the day," he murmured after a while, his voice a gentle rumble against her skin, already thinking of how best to take care of her, to ease the strain of her pregnancy.

Meerab snickered, a playful glint in her eyes as she tilted her head back to look at him. "So you can do this again?" she teased, a knowing smile tugging at her lips.

He couldn't help but chuckle, a low, rich sound that vibrated through her. It was true—every time he did those perineum massages to prepare her for childbirth, it ended the same way. The massage would start out with pure intentions, his hands gentle, careful, as he worked to ease her tension, to stretch her muscles in preparation for the baby's arrival. But the feel of her under his hands, the sight of her relaxing into his touch, the soft moans she would make as he worked her over— it drove him wild every time. Inevitably, his hands would start to wander, his touch becoming more possessive, more insistent, until they were both caught up in a storm of passion that neither of them could resist.

He kissed the side of her neck, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "No funny business this time," he promised, though they both knew it was a promise that would be hard to keep.

"Sure," Meerab replied, her tone light and playful, clearly unconvinced.

Murtasim sighed, shaking his head with. "I mean it, Meerab," he said, though his voice was tinged with amusement.

"I don't believe you," she muttered.

She was right not to.

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

Two Weeks Later...

Murtasim watched Meerab intently as she moved through her pregnancy exercises, every fiber of his being focused on her. She was on the mat, her face etched with concentration as the instructor gently guided her through each movement, stretching and holding positions that Murtasim could only imagine were uncomfortable. His wife, his strong, beautiful wife, was so nimble for someone who was due soon. He couldn't help but marvel at how gracefully she moved, even with the heaviness of their unborn child.

But as graceful as she was, Murtasim could also see the exhaustion creeping into her every move. She had been pushing herself hard these days, trying to do everything right—exercising, drinking some strange herbal tea that she had been told would help, eating dates by the handful even though she didn't like them much. All of it was supposed to make things easier when the time came, but it was wearing her out.

He saw her pause for a moment, her chest rising and falling with deep breaths, her hands resting on her rounded belly. "Maybe we should stop," she said, her voice a little breathless. She turned slightly to the instructor, a pleading look in her eyes.

The instructor, a well-meaning but firm woman in her mid-forties, shook her head. "Just a little longer, Meerab. You're doing great. We need to keep going, okay?"

Murtasim's jaw tightened as he watched the exchange. His protective instincts flared up immediately. How could this woman not see that Meerab was tired? That she needed a break? He found himself glaring at the instructor, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface.

He had been glaring at a lot of people lately—at Dr. Abbasi during their appointments when he suggested things that Murtasim thought were unnecessary, at his mother for making Meerab eat things she didn't like, and most recently, at their birth coach who had made his wife cry by mentioning that some mothers don't fall in love with their babies immediately.

That last one had nearly sent him over the edge.

But this was different. This was Meerab, right in front of him, struggling to keep up with the exercises she had been doing for weeks. And it was tearing him apart to see her like this.

Meerab must have sensed his frustration because she turned her head slightly and gave him a look—a subtle shake of her head that said, "Don't." It was a look she had perfected over the last few weeks, one that told him to calm down, to stop being so overbearing.

He sighed, his shoulders dropping a little. He knew she was right. He was being too protective, maybe even a little irrational, but he couldn't help it. Seeing her like this, so close to the finish line but so tired, made him feel helpless. He hated that feeling.

She was miserable, and he knew it. He had tried to help, massaging her back when the tension became too much, rubbing her feet when they ached, holding up her belly to give her some relief from the constant pressure. He had even helped her find excuses to get into the pool so she could float and take the weight off her back. He gave her kisses whenever she seemed to need them, helped her shower when she was too tired to stand for too long. He would do anything to make this easier for her, but there was only so much he could do.

Murtasim's eyes softened as he watched her push through the final stretch. He knew she was doing this for their baby, for her own wellbeing. But he couldn't shake the feeling that she was doing too much. That she needed to slow down, to rest, to let him take care of her the way he wanted to.

As the instructor finally called an end to the session, Meerab collapsed onto the mat, her hand going to her belly as she let out a tired sigh. Murtasim was at her side in an instant, kneeling down beside her and brushing a stray lock of hair out of her face.

"You did amazing," he whispered, his voice full of admiration and love.

She looked up at him, her eyes softening as she smiled. "I'm so tired," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, there were times in the day where she had zero energy left.

"I know," he said, his hand gently rubbing her back. "But you're almost there. Just a little longer."

Meerab nodded, her eyes closing as she leaned into his touch.

Murtasim's heart swelled with love. "I love you," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

As he helped her up from the mat, he couldn't help but glare one last time at the instructor, who had already started packing up her things. He knew he was being overprotective, but he didn't care.

As they made their way back to their room, Murtasim kept a protective arm around Meerab, his hand resting protectively on her rounded stomach. The walk was slow, each step measured to ensure she wasn't straining herself. He could feel the exhaustion radiating from her, the way her body leaned just a little more heavily against his with each passing minute.

Once they reached their room, Murtasim gently guided her to the edge of the bed, helping her sit down with a soft sigh of relief escaping her lips. He could see the fatigue in her eyes, the way her shoulders slumped slightly, the strain of carrying their child clear in every movement.

"Stay here," he whispered, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead before moving to the nightstand. He grabbed the glass of water he had left there earlier and the small plate of snacks—almonds and a few slices of apple—things she could nibble on without much effort.

When he returned, he knelt in front of her, offering the glass of water first. "Here, sip on this," he encouraged softly, his eyes never leaving hers. She took the glass with a grateful smile, sipping slowly as he watched her, making sure she drank enough.

Once she'd had her fill of water, he handed her a slice of apple, holding it up to her lips as she took a small bite. He didn't rush her, letting her eat at her own pace, knowing that even the simplest tasks felt like a chore these days. As she chewed, he reached up to play with her hair, his fingers threading through the soft strands, gently massaging her scalp in slow, soothing circles.

His fingers worked through her hair, untangling the knots and easing the tension.

"So good," Meerab sighed, leaning into his touch, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment as she savored the feeling.

Murtasim smiled, continuing his gentle ministrations as she finished the last of the apple slices. He wiped away a tiny bit of juice that had dripped down her chin with his thumb, then pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

He could see how tired she was, her body practically pleading for a nap, but he knew she wouldn't sleep comfortably without a shower. "Come on," he whispered, helping her to her feet once again. "Let's get you cleaned up."

She didn't argue, allowing him to guide her to the bathroom. Her steps were slow, heavy with exhaustion. Earlier in her pregnancy, a short nap was all she needed to be full of energy again, but as she got closer and closer to nine months, naps weren't cutting it anymore, she was still tired after them.

Once in the bathroom, Murtasim turned on the shower, adjusting the water to the perfect temperature. He helped her undress, letting her clothes join his in a pile on the floor, and guided her into the shower, holding her steady as the warm water cascaded over her body, washing away the weariness of the day.

He grabbed the washcloth and gently lathered it with soap, his hands moving with the utmost care as he washed her.

When the shower was done, he dried himself off and wrapped her in a soft towel, drying her off with the same gentle care before rubbing lotion into her skin, while she looked like she was half asleep. He led her back to the bedroom, helping her slip into one of his kurtas, the fabric loose and comfortable against her skin, as he slipped into the same. The sleeves were far too long on her, the hem brushing just above her knees, but she looked perfect in it—small, cozy, and undeniably his.

Once she was dressed, Murtasim guided her to the bed, helping her lie down on her side. She was tired, but there was still one more thing he needed to do for her—a task that had become part of their routine.

Murtasim settled beside her on the bed, his eyes soft and attentive as they locked onto hers. She looked close to asleep but nodded.

His hands moved to her hips, gently guiding her to lie back against the pillows in a comfortable position, her knees bent and slightly apart. "Are you ready?" he asked softly, his voice a gentle murmur, barely louder than the sound of their breathing.

Meerab nodded, a small, reassuring smile playing on her lips. "Yes," she whispered.

Murtasim reached for the small bottle of oil he kept on the nightstand, an oil specially recommended by Dr. Abbasi. He poured a few drops into his palm, the liquid cool against his skin. He then rubbed his hands together, warming the oil between his fingers, making sure it would feel soothing against her sensitive skin.

With the utmost care, Murtasim began the perineal massage, designed to help prepare her body for childbirth. The perineum— as she had learnt during on their child-birthing classes – was the area of skin and muscle between the vaginal opening and the anus. This area would need to stretch significantly during the birth, and massaging it regularly could help increase its elasticity, potentially reducing the risk of tearing during delivery.

He started with the lightest of touches, his fingers moving slowly and deliberately as he applied the warmed oil to her perineum. He knew how delicate this area was, and he took his time, making sure to be as gentle as possible. His thumbs pressed down softly, applying just enough pressure to start the stretching process without causing discomfort.

As his fingers worked, he didn't even feel the initial tension he had felt in her muscles the first time—her body no longer instinctively tightened, now used to this kind of touch. He kept his movements slow and rhythmic, creating a soothing pattern with his touch.

"Relax, Meerab," he whispered. "Just breathe."

She did as he asked, focusing on her breathing, taking slow, deep breaths that matched the rhythm of his touch. He could feel her body gradually relaxing under his hands, the remaining tension easing as she surrendered to the sensations. His fingers continued to move in slow, deliberate circles, gently stretching the skin and muscles, helping them to become more flexible.

Murtasim was thorough, making sure to cover the entire perineal area. He alternated between gentle stretching and soft massaging, his fingers working with a practiced tenderness.

Meerab responded with slow, measured breaths, her body melting into the bed as she fully relaxed into his care.

When he was done, he wiped his hands clean with a soft cloth and pulled the kurta back down. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her rounded stomach, where their daughter rested.

Meerab smiled, her hand reaching down to stroke his hair, her fingers threading through the soft strands. There was a peace in her eyes now.

Murtasim shifted, standing up and putting the oil away before quickly running to the bathroom to wash his hands. She was almost asleep when he curled up beside her, wrapping her in his arms as he pulled the covers over them both. He continued to caress her, his hand finding its way to her scalp, his fingers moving in slow, soothing circles as he scratched lightly at her scalp—the way she loved.

Her breath grew slower, more even, as the exhaustion finally began to claim her. He kept up the gentle rhythm of his touch, watching as her eyes fluttered closed, her body sinking into the comfort of the bed and his embrace.

Her lashes, dark and long, rested delicately against her cheeks, which now looked adorably full, like a little chipmunk's. He smiled to himself, his heart swelling with affection as he took in her cute, round face, softened further in sleep.

Her lips were slightly parted, and the way her cheeks puffed out reminded him of how she looked when she pouted or sulked—completely endearing, even if she never realized it. He loved these moments, where she looked so peaceful, almost childlike in her innocence, the worries of the day erased from her features.

Gently, he reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his touch light enough not to wake her. The way her cheeks were pressed against the pillow made him want to lean down and kiss them, to feel that softness against his lips. But he held back, not wanting to disturb her rest.

Murtasim lay beside Meerab for a few more moments, savoring the warmth of her body against his. He gently brushed his fingers through her hair one last time before he slowly, carefully slid down the bed. His movements were deliberate, ensuring he didn't disturb her rest. Once he was level with her rounded belly, he placed a soft kiss on it, smiling as he felt a slight kick in response.

"Hello, meri choti shehzadi," he whispered, his voice low and filled with tenderness. He placed his hand over the spot where she had kicked, feeling the gentle pressure of her tiny foot. "Meesam," he added, savoring the name that held so much meaning for both of them.

"I know it's cozy inside your ammi," he continued, his tone playful. "Trust me, I get it. But, Meesam, it's time for you to come out now. Your ammi... she's not exactly thrilled about being pregnant anymore. She's tired, and her back hurts, and honestly, she misses being able to see her own feet." He chuckled softly, imagining Meerab's usual complaints, and then pressed another kiss to her belly.

"We've got everything ready for you, you know?" Murtasim said, his voice filled with excitement. "Your nursery is all set up. We've got the softest blankets, the cutest little crib, and toys that I can't wait to see you play with. There's this one stuffed lion I picked out myself—trust me, you're going to love it."

"Even though your nursery is set up, I know you won't be staying there much, at least not at first. We've got a bassinet right here in our room, just beside the bed, so you'll always be close to your ammi and me. There's a changing table, all the softest pillows, and enough nappies to last for weeks. Everything you could possibly need is right here, meri choti shehzadi."

He paused for a moment, rubbing slow circles over Meerab's belly as he spoke. "And the hospital bag is ready too. Your ammi and I packed everything she and you'll need for the hospital, and we're ready to go whenever you decide it's time. I even installed your car seat—took me a while, but it's in there, all snug and safe, just waiting for you."

Murtasim's voice softened as he continued, his words filled with love and reassurance. "Dua Aunty is already in Karachi, visiting her family. She can be here in no time to help us. So, you see, everything's ready for you. All that's missing is you."

He let out a soft sigh, resting his forehead against Meerab's belly, feeling the life within. "Meri choti shehzadi," he whispered, his voice full of longing. "We're so excited to meet you. Your ammi and I, we love you so much already, and we can't wait to hold you, to see your little face. So please, come soon. Your ammi is ready, I'm ready, the doctor says you're perfectly ready – of course you are – so come out when you can."

Another gentle kick responded to his words, and Murtasim chuckled, his heart swelling with love. "I'll take that as a yes," he murmured, pressing one last kiss to her belly before he settled back beside Meerab, his hand resting protectively over their unborn daughter as he too feel asleep.

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

Meerab was nestled in Murtasim's arms, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against her back. His arms were wrapped protectively around her, and she felt safe, loved, and at peace. Their breaths were synchronized, their bodies warm and relaxed as they drifted deeper into sleep.

But suddenly, something woke Meerab. At first, it was just a vague discomfort, a tightening in her lower abdomen that she tried to ignore. She shifted slightly in Murtasim's embrace, facing him, trying to get comfortable again, thinking it was just one of the usual aches that came with being heavily pregnant. But then, the tightening returned, stronger this time, accompanied by a dull, throbbing pain that made her eyes snap open, the evening light filtering through the window.

Meerab lay still for a moment, her heart pounding as she tried to process what she was feeling. She had been told about this, about how labor could start subtly, how it would feel like a wave of pressure and pain radiating through her lower back and abdomen. She remembered the midwife saying that contractions often start like menstrual cramps, low and steady, gradually increasing in intensity.

As she focused on the sensations, she realized this wasn't just a random cramp. The pressure was different, more intense, and it came in waves, tightening her belly and then releasing. The realization hit her like a jolt of electricity—she was in labor.

Her breath caught in her throat, a mix of excitement and fear washing over her. She knew this moment would come, but nothing could have fully prepared her for it. The contractions were still mild, but they were unmistakable, each one rolling through her with increasing strength.

"Murtasim," she whispered, her voice shaky and filled with emotion.

He didn't stir at first, still lost in the peaceful realm of sleep. She reached up, gently shaking his shoulder. "Murtasim," she said again, a little louder this time, her hand trembling slightly.

Murtasim's eyes fluttered open, his brow furrowing as he registered her voice. "Meerab?" he mumbled sleepily, his voice thick with concern as he looked at her.

"I... I think I'm in labor," Meerab whispered, her voice trembling as she tried to stay calm.

That simple statement snapped Murtasim fully awake. His eyes widened in shock, the grogginess disappearing instantly. "You're... you're in labor?" He exclaimed, his voice rising with panic as he bolted upright in bed.

Meerab nodded, trying to keep herself calm. "Yes, but it's still early. The contractions aren't that close together yet."

But Murtasim was already in full-on panic mode. "Okay, okay, we need to... um... what do we do? We need to get dressed! Yes, get dressed!" he rambled, his voice escalating as he started listing things in rapid succession. "We need to call Dua! No, wait, we also need to tell everyone! And the doctor! But first, we need to get you to the hospital! And the bags! Where are the bags?!"

Meerab watched him with wide eyes, a mix of amusement and affection bubbling up inside her despite the situation. "Murtasim, calm down!" she said, reaching out to grab his arm and pulling him back to reality.

Murtasim froze, looking at her with wild eyes. "Calm down? How am I supposed to calm down? You're having a baby, Meerab! Right now!"

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Author's Note: Tada! So, what do you think? What was your favourite part? In the next chapter, we finally see Meerab going through labour and meet Meesam!