Author's Note: Hi everyone! First, I want to say a heartfelt thank you for all the love you've shown for the last two chapters. I'm so glad that many of you enjoyed them! I was a bit hesitant about how detailed they were, but as I mentioned to some of you in the comments, I believe pregnancy, childbirth, and motherhood are often overly romanticized. It struck me early on in this fandom that many readers might not have been exposed to the realities of these experiences. Whether you're someone who hopes to be a mother someday or you're too young to be thinking about it right now, I hope that what you've read stays with you. I hope it gives you a glimpse into what to expect and what to look into when the time comes. The journey isn't as easy or straightforward as it's often portrayed, and for many, it's not as smooth as Meerab's experience has been.

Also, before we dive into this chapter, I want to take a moment to extend my deepest appreciation to all the incredible mothers reading this! Bringing a tiny human into the world is no small feat, and the journey through pregnancy and childbirth can be one of the most challenging experiences a woman faces. Our bodies and minds are pushed to their absolute limits, and yet, at the end of it all, we're handed a baby to care for rather than the rest we need. Yet, we all rise to the occasion and put our babies first. In this story, Meerab is blessed with a supportive family and a loving husband. She has the privilege of focusing solely on her child, with others stepping in to handle the cooking, cleaning, and day-to-day tasks. But I know that for so many of us, this is not the reality, and that always breaks my heart a little. Instead, we're handed an endless juggling act, the sleepless nights, the moments of doubt and exhaustion—yet we all persevere with strength and grace that is nothing short of heroic. I hope one day the world changes and mothers are supported more throughout that process and really appreciated! But for now, I just wanted to say to all the mothers out there, whether you're supported by many or standing strong on your own, you are the true superstars. Your love, resilience, and dedication make the world a better place. Thank you for all that you do!

That's enough yapping from me, enjoy the chapter, see you on the other side!

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It was two days later that they were finally cleared to return home. With Dua having to fly back home to take care of her own child – Murtasim was sure she meant Saad and not Salar because the latter was a little angel – they were on their own. Murtasim couldn't shake the feeling of the overwhelming responsibility that settled over him with her departure.

As he drove through the streets from the hospital to their home, he couldn't help but notice how different this car ride was. For the first time in a long time, his wife wasn't sitting beside him in the front seat. Instead, she was nestled in the backseat—right next to the baby seat he had carefully chosen, sparing no expense. He had insisted on getting the safest model available, one that had been shipped all the way from the USA, because his choti shehzadi deserved nothing less than the best even if the seats weren't required in Pakistan.

When the seat had arrived, his mother had rolled her eyes at his insistence on safety features, but Meerab had smiled and kissed his cheek, and that was all the validation he needed. And now, as he glanced in the rearview mirror, his heart swelled at the sight of his tiny daughter, cuddled snugly into the seat, fast asleep. Safe.

Meerab laughed softly, and his heart melted when he caught sight of her through the rearview mirror, her eyes bright with amusement. "How are you going to drive like this?" she asked.

Murtasim had one hand on the steering wheel, but the other kept drifting back, alternating between holding Meerab's hand and gently playing with Meesam's little legs. He couldn't help it; the urge to stay connected to them both was too strong.

"I got us this far, didn't I?" he muttered in response, his tone light but full of affection.

"You're driving under the speed limit," she teased.

Murtasim nodded seriously, his gaze flicking briefly from the road to the rearview mirror where he could see the faint outline of his daughter's face. "We have precious cargo in the car," he replied, his voice tinged with a protective edge that was hard to miss.

Meerab sighed. "So, this is all it took to slow you down, huh?"

"I drove slower when you were pregnant, too," he pointed out, a slight pout forming on his lips, his eyes flickering back up to her through the rearview mirror.

"You drove the speed limit when I was pregnant," she corrected, her tone playful.

"Which is so much slower than I usually drive," he countered, his voice full of exaggerated indignation.

As they approached a bumpy section of the road, Murtasim's grip on the steering wheel tightened. His eyes narrowed with concern as he glanced over his shoulder. "Sorry, it might be a little bumpy," he muttered.

Meerab had wrapped her stomach in bandages for support, and she was seated on the softest, most shock-absorbent cushion he could find. But despite all his efforts, there was nothing he could do about the state of the road ahead.

She sighed, clearly amused by his overprotectiveness. "You're going to drive me absolutely mad," she muttered under her breath, though there was no real annoyance in her tone.

"I do it because I love you," he replied simply, his voice softening as they turned onto their street. The familiar sight of the Khan Haveli came into view, and he pulled through the opened gates

"Welcome home, meri choti shehzadi," he whispered, his voice full of emotion as he glanced back at his daughter, still asleep in her seat.

Meerab's gasp caught his attention, and Murtasim grinned. As he parked the car on the driveway, he looked up through the rearview mirror to see Meerab's eyes wide with surprise. The entire haveli was adorned with twinkling fairy lights, sparkling like a thousand little stars in the dusk. The last time the haveli had looked like it did right then was on their wedding day.

"Murtasim," Meerab whispered, her voice trembling with emotion as tears welled up in her eyes.

He followed her gaze, a soft smile playing on his lips as he saw the huge banner that hung across the entrance, proclaiming in elegant letters: Welcome home, Meesam!

Meerab looked back at him, her eyes brimming with tears of happiness. "Your idea?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, filled with awe.

Murtasim shrugged, trying to play it cool. "Maa and Maryam took over," he said nonchalantly, though he couldn't hide the pride in his voice.

Meerab's face lit up with a smile that warmed his heart. He got out of the car and hurried around to her side, opening the door with a flourish. Gently, he helped her out of the car, his hands steadying her as she carefully stepped onto the ground. Before he did anything else, he pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, lingering for a moment, savoring the feel of her against him.

Only then did he turn his attention to their daughter. With the utmost care, he unbuckled Meesam from her car seat, cradling her small form against his chest. She stirred slightly, letting out a soft noise, but then quickly settled as he rocked her in his arms.

"Welcome home, Meesam," he whispered, his voice filled with all the love he had for this tiny person who had so quickly and irrevocably changed their lives.

Together, they made their way to the front door, the twinkling lights that adorned the house casting a warm glow over everything. As they stepped inside, they were greeted by a chorus of "Welcome home!" The voices of their family filled the air, and the foyer was soon bustling with excitement.

But the noise startled Meesam. Her tiny body stiffened in Murtasim's arms, and within seconds, her little face scrunched up, and she let out a loud, wailing cry. Murtasim's heart lurched in panic. His eyes widened, and he instinctively began to rock her, his movements hurried and a little clumsy as he tried to calm her down.

"Shhh, it's okay, meri choti shehzaadi," he whispered urgently, his voice a mix of desperation and soothing tones. "It's just your family. They're excited to see you again."

But Meesam wasn't having it. Her cries only grew louder, her tiny fists flailing as she protested the sudden noise and commotion.

Meerab immediately stepped in, her motherly instincts kicking in with ease. "Let me take her," she said softly, reaching out for their daughter. Murtasim, feeling slightly overwhelmed, handed Meesam over with a sigh of relief.

Meerab held Meesam close, cradling her against her chest and gently rocking her from side to side. She whispered soothing words, her voice a soft, calming melody that Murtasim could barely make out. "It's okay, meri Meesam. Ammi's here. Shhh, it's okay. You're safe."

He watched in awe as Meerab worked her magic. Within moments, Meesam's cries began to subside, her tiny body relaxing as she nestled into her mother's warmth. Her little face softened, and she let out a few more soft whimpers before finally settling down, her eyes fluttering closed once more.

Murtasim let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "No sudden loud noises!" he hissed at his mother, sister, and uncle, who were watching the scene unfold with wide eyes. His voice was a whisper, but the urgency was clear. He didn't want another scare like that.

His mother nodded sheepishly, her earlier excitement giving way to a more subdued expression. "Sorry, beta," she whispered back, her voice full of remorse. Maryam and Anwar mirrored her reaction, nodding quietly as they all took a step back, giving the new parents some space.

Maa Begum stepped forward again, her voice gentle and soft this time. "Settle her in, and let me know if you want to come down to have dinner with us, or if you want me to send it to your room." Her eyes were filled with understanding, knowing full well how tiring the last few days had been for them.

Meerab nodded, still holding Meesam close as she rocked her gently.

Murtasim met his mother's gaze and gave her a grateful smile. "We'll let you know, Maa. Thank you," he whispered back.

With that, Maa Begum gave them one last nod before gently ushering the rest of the family out of the foyer, allowing Meerab and Murtasim to have a quiet moment with their daughter.

Murtasim wrapped an arm around Meerab's shoulders as they made their way towards their room, taking their time to cherish this first quiet moment in their home as a family of three. Meesam was still nestled against Meerab's chest, her tiny breaths soft, even though she was no longer asleep.

"We should show her the nursery!" Murtasim said as he gently led them towards the small room that was exactly twelve steps from their room.

Meerab laughed but didn't protest so he slowly opened the door, revealing the serene space filled with everything a baby could need. It was beautiful, decorated in soft, calming colors, with little animals painted on the walls—a lion, a giraffe, an elephant, and a tiger, all peeking out from behind painted trees. It was a room full of love, a space where Meesam would grow and play.

Murtasim turned to Meerab, his eyes shining with excitement. "Let's show her around," he said softly.

Meerab smiled, nodding and handing Meesam over to him, he stepped closer to the crib. "This is your crib," he whispered to Meesam, his voice full of affection. "It's nice and comfy, but you're not going to be in here any time soon." He said softly, knowing that she'd be spending most of her nights close to them in the bassinet.

Meesam moved slightly in his arms, her little head turning as if trying to follow the sound of his voice. Murtasim's heart melted at the sight, and he leaned in closer, pressing a gentle kiss to her tiny forehead.

Next, Murtasim walked over to the closet, opening the doors to reveal rows of tiny clothes, all neatly hung and arranged. "And this," he continued, his voice brimming with pride, "is your closet. We picked all of these out for you." He ran his fingers over the soft fabrics, imagining how adorable Meesam would look in each outfit. The thought made him smile, his heart swelling with love for his little girl.

Meesam let out a small noise, almost as if she were responding to her father's words. He heard Meerab chuckle softly but Murtasim wasn't done yet.

He moved to the shelf where a plush lion sat, its soft fur and big eyes giving it an endearing look. He picked it up and brought it closer to Meesam. "And this is Sher," he said, his voice playful and gentle. "He's going to keep you safe, but don't worry, he's very friendly."

He made a little roaring sound, a soft, playful noise that made Meerab giggle just like it had when they had bought the toy together. Meesam's tiny hand reached out, her fingers curling slightly as if trying to grab the lion as he ran the fur across her hand. "I think she likes him," he said, turning to his wife.

Meerab nodded, a tender smile on her face. "Let's get her settled," she whispered.

Nodding, Murtasim turned and began to take the twelve steps towards their room from the nursery, Meerab by his side. Every few steps, Murtasim glanced down at Meesam, her little face peaceful as she gave into sleep, completely oblivious to the world around her.

As they entered their bedroom, Murtasim's breath left him in a whoosh. This was the same room where everything had begun—where Meerab had woken him up in the middle of the night, in pain and scared, telling him it was time. And now, just days later, here they were, bringing their daughter home. It felt surreal.

"Get into bed," he said softly to Meerab as he guided her towards the bed.

Meerab sighed happily, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment as she complied, climbing into bed and sinking into the familiar comfort of the mattress. "I missed this bed," she murmured, a contented smile playing on her lips as she settled in.

Murtasim couldn't help but smile at her words.

Carefully, Murtasim handed Meesam to Meerab, watching as she laid down and then laid their daughter on her chest. The sight was enough to make his heart burst. Meerab's hands instinctively cradled Meesam, holding her close.

Murtasim climbed into bed beside them, his body fitting naturally against Meerab's as he leaned in to kiss Meesam's little head. Her scent and the softness of her skin filled his senses, making him feel more grounded, more at peace, than he ever had before.

"I love you," he whispered to Meerab, his lips brushing against her forehead as he spoke.

Meerab looked up at him, she smiled softly. "I love you too," she whispered back, her voice filled with the same tenderness, the same overwhelming love.

Just then, Meesam made a small cooing noise, a sound so sweet and innocent it made both of them giggle softly. The little noise was so perfectly timed, as if their daughter was joining in the moment, expressing her own feelings.

Murtasim chuckled, his eyes shining as he looked down at Meesam. "I think she loves us too," he whispered, his voice filled with awe.

Meerab nodded, her smile widening as she gazed at their daughter, her fingers gently tracing the outline of Meesam's tiny ear. "Of course she does, and we love her too," Meerab whispered, the love in her voice mirroring his own.

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A soft, warm light filtered into the room through the drawn curtains, casting a gentle glow over the space that had become their sanctuary. The bassinet standing next to the bed in Murtasim and Meerab's room was designed to be the perfect spot for Meesam, but in truth, it was hardly used.

More often than not, Murtasim and Meerab preferred to keep their daughter close, her tiny body nestled securely against one of their chests. Murtasim couldn't bear the thought of her being alone, even in the bassinet that was just an arm's reach away. Every time he looked at her tiny form, he felt an overwhelming surge of protectiveness and love, something that took his breath away. She needed to feel their warmth, their presence, and he was more than happy to provide it. He'd often find himself sitting in bed, his shirt unbuttoned to allow Meesam to rest directly against his skin, her tiny hands sometimes curling into the fabric or his chest, her soft breaths matching his own.

The first few days at home had been a blur of constant feedings, sleepless nights, and moments of pure bliss. Meesam, being a newborn, had an unpredictable schedule. She would wake every couple of hours, her soft cries signaling her need to be fed, comforted, or changed. Murtasim watched as Meerab took on the role of mother with a quiet strength that left him in awe. Despite her exhaustion, she met each feeding and each soothing session with love and patience. But he could see the toll it took on her—the fatigue that lingered in her eyes, the way her body moved a little slower, still recovering from the intense ordeal of childbirth.

Murtasim tried to help wherever he could, whether it was bringing her food and water while she nursed or rubbing her back to ease the tension that built up from the constant care she was giving their daughter. He knew that there was only so much he could do—only she could provide the nourishment Meesam needed. But he was determined to help in every other way, to make sure she never felt alone.

Meesam was thriving because of Meerab. She had the healthy appetite of a newborn, her small mouth eagerly latching on when it was time to feed. He was in awe of his tiny daughter—how she instinctively sought out her mother, how she would calm almost immediately once she was nestled against Meerab. The sight of her small, delicate form resting on his wife's chest, her tiny fingers curling against her skin was a sight that made him smile.

The peaceful routine they had settled into was only ever interrupted by his mother. She always swept into the room with a speed that surprised him, especially given her age. It was as if the birth of her granddaughter had breathed new life into her. On the first day, without much preamble, she had pushed a protesting Meerab towards the bathroom, her voice firm but full of affection.

"Go soak in the herbal bath," she had instructed, her tone leaving no room for argument. Apparently, the bath was meant to promote healing and ease the pain that still lingered in Meerab's body.

On the first day, Meerab had looked almost panicked at the thought of leaving Meesam alone, her eyes wide as she glanced back at Murtasim, who was holding their daughter.

"I have her, don't worry," Murtasim had whispered softly, his voice full of reassurance.

"But what if she needs me?" Meerab had asked, her voice tinged with anxiety as she glanced back at Meesam, who was resting peacefully in his arms.

"Then I'll come to you," he had promised. "Go, it's okay." His words were calm and steady, giving her the push she needed to step away.

The reassurance in his voice had calmed her down enough to walk a couple of feet into the bathroom, though she kept glancing back until the door closed behind her.

It had gotten easier every day, now she seemed to look forward to that one uninterrupted hour. An army of women would come and go from the bathroom during that hour. He even caught sight of the masseuse who had been a godsend for Meerab during the later months of her pregnancy, helping to ease the aches and pains that came with carrying their daughter.

His mother had come in to push her into the bathroom just moments ago, and Murtasim heard the sounds of water being drawn today as well. Every day, from noon to 1 p.m., this routine repeated itself. Meerab would disappear into the bathroom, where she was pampered and cared for, while Murtasim stayed in bed with their choti shehzaadi on his chest. He cherished these moments, feeling the steady rhythm of Meesam's tiny heartbeat against his own, her small form rising and falling with each of his breaths.

Each time his mother emerged from the bathroom after pushing Meerab in, her face warm with satisfaction, Murtasim made sure to beam at her. He was grateful beyond words that his wife was being cared for, that she had this time to heal and be pampered as she deserved. He had only asked his mother about what would help Meerab heal, and she had taken over completely, ensuring that Meerab had everything she needed.

"She'll be out in an hour, I'll send your lunch up." Maa Begum said and then she disappeared out of the room as quickly as she had come in.

Murtasim lay in bed, his back resting against the propped-up pillows, his arms securely cradling his choti shehzaadi on his chest. The room was quiet, filled only with the soft sounds of Meesam's tiny breaths and the occasional creak of the bed as he adjusted his position.

Meesam began to stir after some minutes of silence, her tiny fingers curling and uncurling against his skin as she started to wake up. Murtasim's heart swelled with love, his eyes softening as he watched her.

Slowly, she yawned, her little mouth forming an adorable 'O' shape before stretching wide open. It was the kind of yawn that seemed to take all her energy, her whole body tensing and then relaxing as she completed the motion. It was the cutest thing in the world.

Her eyelids fluttered open slowly, her dark eyes blinking as they adjusted to the light, and she yawned again.

Murtasim chuckled softly, his heart melting at the sight. "Big yawn," he whispered, smiling as she made a small noise, almost like a tiny sigh, her head nuzzling into his chest as if she were still deciding whether to wake up fully or fall back asleep – just like her mother did.

Meesam's eyes were so expressive, even now. They were still adjusting to the world around her, but Murtasim swore he could already see a spark of curiosity in them, as if she were taking in every detail of her new surroundings. She blinked up at him, her gaze unfocused but filled with a quiet wonder, her small hands gently patting his chest as if trying to ground herself.

"Hello, meri choti shehzaadi," he murmured, his voice full of warmth and love as he slid down to lay on the bed, and gently turned her onto her tummy so that she lay against his chest completely. Her head bobbed slightly as she adjusted to the new position, her legs kicking out gently as if she were testing out her strength. "I missed you while you were asleep."

Meesam responded with a soft gurgle, a tiny sound that made Murtasim's heart skip a beat. It was as if she were trying to talk back to him, to let him know that she was listening, even if she couldn't quite form the words yet. Her tiny fists clenched and unclenched, her fingers grasping at the air before finding purchase against his skin. Murtasim couldn't help but smile, his free hand coming up to gently stroke her back, feeling the warmth of her little body through the thin fabric of her onesie.

"Your mama is taking a bath right now, but she'll be back soon," he continued, his voice soft and comforting as he spoke to her.

Meesam made another small noise, a contented sound, and he could feel her little legs kicking again, as if she were trying to push herself up.

"And you know what? It's almost time for your first bath too, just one more week I think," he added, his voice filled with excitement, she had only been taking sponge baths until then.

Murtasim watched as Meesam's head bobbed up again, her tiny neck muscles working hard to lift her head as she always did when she was on her stomach. She was still so new to the world, and every movement seemed like a huge effort, but she was trying, and that made him so proud. Her lips parted, and another little gurgle escaped, almost like a question, as if she were asking him to tell her more.

"Your umbilical cord stump is about to fall off," he explained gently, his hand continuing to rub her back in slow, soothing circles. "And that means we can give you your first proper bath soon. Isn't that exciting?" He couldn't wait for that moment, to see her experience the sensation of water for the first time.

As he spoke, Meesam's tiny body wriggled slightly, her head now resting against his chest again, her breath coming in soft, even puffs. She was calm, her little fingers now finding the edge of his shirt and gripping it tightly, as if she didn't want to let go. Her small movements were almost hypnotic.

"Hopefully you'll love baths, just like your mama does," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper now. "It's going to be so much fun. And don't worry, mama and I will be right there with you the whole time."

Meesam's tiny body relaxed further against his chest, her eyes fluttering closed as she drifted back into a peaceful sleep. Murtasim continued to hold her close, his hand resting gently on her back as he listened to the soft, rhythmic sound of her breathing. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head, feeling the fine strands of her hair tickle his lips, and whispered, "I love you, meri choti shehzaadi."

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Murtasim smiled, a sense of deep contentment washing over him as he pulled Meerab even closer to him. For the first time in months, he could hold her properly, her body molding into his in a way that it hadn't been able to for so long. The once firm, protruding belly that had kept them at a slight distance was now soft, allowing him to feel her warmth fully against him. He had missed this—the simple act of holding his wife close, the comfort and peace that came from having her in his arms.

As he wrapped his arm around her waist, he gently guided her to lay fully on top of him, his hand resting on the small of her back, holding her securely. His other hand found its way to her head, fingers tenderly massaging her scalp, a soothing motion that had always brought her comfort. He felt her sigh, a soft exhale against his neck, as she adjusted herself, her elbow resting on his shoulder, her hand on the top of his head, and her face nestled into the crook of his neck.

"I missed this," she sighed, her breath warm against his skin.

And he understood perfectly what she meant, they hadn't been able to lay like this for months. He could feel her heartbeat against his, the steady rise and fall of her chest as she breathed in sync with him. She took a deep breath in, her chest expanding against his, and then she smiled, a soft, contented sound escaping her lips. "You smell like baby lotion," she laughed, the sound light and airy.

Murtasim chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "And you smell like mint," he replied, smiling as he breathed in the fresh scent of her post her bath. "You feeling okay?" he asked, his voice gentle, filled with concern as his hand continued its slow, soothing motion up and down her back.

"Just tired," she murmured, the weariness evident in her voice. "The bath helped." She shifted slightly, nestling closer to him, her body relaxing further as he continued to massage her scalp.

For a moment, they simply lay there, enjoying the quiet intimacy of the moment, the sound of their breathing filling the room. But Murtasim's thoughts drifted back to those long hours in the delivery room, to the pain and helplessness he had felt. He had tried to push it away, to focus on the joy of having Meesam with them now, but it lingered, a shadow that refused to fade.

"I hated seeing you in pain," he whispered, the words slipping out before he could stop them. It had been about ten days since that day, but the memory was still fresh, the image of her in agony seared into his mind.

She hummed softly in response, a comforting sound, but he could feel the weight of his emotions pressing down on him. He always wanted to keep her safe, but in that moment, he had felt so utterly powerless.

"It was the fourth time in my life that I felt so helpless," he admitted quietly, his voice thick with emotion.

She moved slightly, pulling away from his neck and placing her chin on his chest to look up at him, her eyes searching his. "Fourth?" she asked, her voice gentle but curious.

He nodded, his gaze locking onto hers, the memories flooding back. "The first was when my dad died in front of my eyes and I couldn't do anything... and then when you disappeared when we went to the village for the first time," he paused, swallowing hard as the memories played out in his mind. "I thought I was too late...seeing you covered in all those bruises." He shuddered at the thought, the fear he had felt in that moment still lingering. But then, he felt her lips press a gentle kiss to his neck, grounding him, bringing him back to the present.

He took a deep breath. "Then when Malik took you again and you were shot..." His voice broke slightly, the pain of that memory still raw. "But seeing you in pain right in front of me, because of me, was worse than all of it – I couldn't do anything to help you – I never want you to go through that again – I changed my mind, one child is more than enough." His eyes welled up with tears, the emotions he had been holding back finally spilling over.

She reached up, her hands cupping his face gently, her touch warm and reassuring. "How long have you been thinking that?" she asked softly, her voice full of understanding. She knew him too well, knew that he had been carrying this guilt, this fear, for some time.

He just shook his head, unable to find the words, the emotions too overwhelming.

"Look at me, Murtasim," she whispered quietly, her voice firm but loving, and he obeyed, his eyes meeting hers once again. "Everyone feels helpless at some point, even you. That is normal; it's a part of life. You couldn't have done more than you did when your father died, you gave him reassurance through his last breath that you would take care of everyone, and you do." Her voice was steady, filled with conviction, as she continued, "And when I was kidnapped, you found me both times, and you took care of me, you couldn't have done more. And as for seeing me in labor – billions of women do it, it's hard, I know, it's scary too – but I can honestly say that the pain didn't matter as soon as I saw Meesam, she was worth it. And you just being there with me was enough, I couldn't have done it without you – you couldn't possibly have done more."

Her words were a balm to his soul, easing the guilt, the fear, that had been gnawing at him. But he still couldn't shake the image of her in pain, the helplessness he had felt.

"I just hate seeing you in pain," he sighed, his voice heavy with the weight of his emotions.

"You need to stop feeling guilty about things you can't control," she muttered, her tone affectionate but firm, as if she were scolding him for carrying this burden alone.

"No more babies," he muttered, his voice thick with emotion, the thought of putting her through that again almost unbearable.

She snickered softly, the sound bringing a small smile to his lips. "At least one more...but we'll cross that bridge when we get there, we need to survive first," she replied, her fingers caressing his cheek, her touch soothing. "I love you," she whispered, her voice filled with love and gratitude, as she tucked herself back into the safety of his neck.

"I love you too," Murtasim whispered, his voice soft as he continued to run his fingers through Meerab's hair, tucking the still damp strands behind her ears. He loved the feel of her hair, the way it slid between his fingers like silk, the scent of her shampoo lingering in the air.

"I'm thinking about chopping my hair off," she murmured, her voice barely audible against his chest.

His hand paused for a moment, mid-stroke, as her words sank in. "Oh?" he managed to say, although internally he wanted to yell, "No!" He loved her hair—the length of it, the way it cascaded down her back.

"Maybe it'll be less of a hassle to take care of," she continued, her voice thoughtful.

"If you want to cut it, then...you should," he said, though his fingers instinctively resumed their path through her long strands. The thought of her cutting it made his heart sink a little, but he didn't want to be selfish. He wanted her to feel comfortable, to do what made her happy, even if it meant losing the hair he loved so much.

Meerab lifted her head from his chest, pulling back to look at him. He caught her gaze, a small smile tugging at his lips as he saw the playful glint in her eyes.

"Are you having tummy time too?" he teased, remembering how Meesam had been trying to lift her head during her tummy time on his chest.

She rolled her eyes at his comment, but there was a smile on her face. "I thought you loved my hair long," she said, her voice teasing.

"I do," he admitted without hesitation.

"Then?" she asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

"I said you should cut it if you want," he shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant, though the thought of her cutting her hair still made his chest tighten a little.

"You love playing with my hair," she pointed out, a knowing look in her eyes.

"Obviously," he said, running his fingers through the strands again, savoring the feel of them.

She narrowed her eyes at him playfully. "Stop being so nice and cute, tell me how you really feel."

He snickered, finally giving in. "I don't want you to cut your hair," he confessed, "ever, I love it."

"Better," she said, satisfied with his answer.

"But you still should if you want to," he added.

"Murtasimmmmm," she whined, dragging out his name in a way that made him chuckle.

"Meeraabbbbbbb," he teased back, mimicking her tone.

Just then, a small cry interrupted their playful conversation, drawing their attention to the bassinet beside the bed. Meesam's tiny wails filled the room, her little face scrunched up in discomfort. Meerab snickered, turning her head towards the sound. "I don't think she likes being left out," she said with a fond smile.

Meerab smiled as she rolled off him, but before she could get up, Murtasim was already out of the bed, reaching into the bassinet to pick up their daughter. He wrinkled his nose as a familiar smell hit him, the unmistakable scent of a dirty diaper.

"No, she's just crying because of the stink," he said, causing Meerab to laugh as he lifted Meesam gently into his arms.

"Let's get you cleaned up, meri choti shehzaadi," he murmured to Meesam as he carried her over to the changing table on the side of the room, his hands cradling her tiny body with practiced ease.

Meerab followed him, standing beside the changing table as he laid Meesam down. Their little girl squirmed slightly, her arms flailing as she adjusted to the new position. Murtasim reached out and grabbed one of her tiny hands, gently holding it to keep her calm.

"You hold her hands, I'll take care of the rest," Murtasim said, glancing over at Meerab with a smile.

Meerab nodded, leaning over to gently hold both of Meesam's hands in hers, her thumbs rubbing soothing circles over her soft skin. "Hi, meri Meesam," she cooed softly, her voice melodic and calming. "Ammi's here, and Abbu is going to make you all clean again. Did you have a good nap? Are you hungry?"

As Meerab spoke to their daughter and she responded with little coos and gurgles, Murtasim focused on the task at hand. He undid the tiny snaps on Meesam's onesie, carefully peeling it back to reveal the soiled diaper. The smell hit him full force, and he couldn't help but wrinkle his nose again.

"My stinky choti shehzaadi," he laughed, shaking his head as he quickly and efficiently wiped her clean with a baby wipe from the warmer. He could feel Meesam's little legs kicking gently against his hands as he worked, her tiny feet curling and uncurling.

"Don't call her that!" Meerab whined playfully.

"Did you smell that?" he teased back, a grin on his face as he reached for a fresh diaper, expertly folding it over Meesam's tiny bottom and fastening it securely.

"Stop making fun of my baby," Meerab said, mock-pouting as she took Meesam from him once he was done, cradling her close and pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Your Abbu is being mean, you're not stinky," she whispered to their daughter, her voice filled with love.

Murtasim stepped back slightly, watching them with a look of pure adoration. Meerab held Meesam in her arms, her face softening as she played with the baby, gently rocking her back and forth.

"Who's the cutest girl in the world?" Meerab cooed, her fingers lightly tracing Meesam's tiny features. "You are, aren't you?"

Meesam responded with a series of soft, cooing noises, her little mouth curling into what could almost be considered a smile. Her eyes, still a bit unfocused, seemed to brighten at the sound of her mother's voice.

Murtasim couldn't take his eyes off his wife and daughter. There was something mesmerizing about the way Meerab held Meesam, the naturalness of it, like she had been doing it all her life. Her arms cradled the tiny baby with such tenderness, supporting Meesam's head with one hand while the other gently patted her back.

He noticed how Meesam fit so perfectly into her mother's embrace, as if she had been made to be held by Meerab. Meesam nestled into Meerab's chest, her tiny head resting just beneath her mother's chin, while her small hand rested against her skin, as if trying to keep her close. It was amazing how such a small being could already express such a strong need for comfort.

Meesam made little noises, gurgling happily as if responding to her mother's soothing voice. Every now and then, she would shift slightly, her legs kicking out as if testing the air, but she never strayed far from the comfort of Meerab's chest.

"She's already wrapped around your finger," he said softly, stepping closer and placing a hand on Meerab's shoulder, his thumb brushing against her collarbone.

Meerab smiled up at him, her eyes filled with a love so deep it took his breath away.

"Maybe," she whispered, her voice full of warmth as she looked back down at Meesam, who was now making little gurgling sounds, her hands waving in the air. "But she's got you wrapped around hers, Mr. Khan." She teased.

Murtasim chuckled, leaning down to place a kiss on Meesam's tiny forehead. "Of course she does," he murmured. "meri choti shehzaadi hai."

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

Meerab had spent countless hours during her pregnancy reading every blog, article, and book she could find on what to expect after giving birth. The words from those blogs and comments had filled her with a mix of dread and apprehension. They spoke of endless exhaustion, unwashed hair, and days spent feeling like nothing more than a milk machine for the baby. She'd braced herself for the worst—being overwhelmed, unable to shower, and losing herself in the process of caring for a newborn.

A part of that was true. She was tired, more tired than she'd ever been in her life. And yes, her body didn't quite feel like her own yet. But as she lay in bed, her gaze drifting to the bassinet where Meesam slept peacefully, she couldn't help but feel incredibly blessed. So much of what those women had written about—the isolation, the lack of support, the overwhelming burden of doing everything alone—wasn't her reality.

Between her husband, her mother-in-law, her sister-in-law, and the house staff, every need was anticipated and met with care. Meals were delivered to her room with clockwork precision, each one designed to give her the nutrients she needed for healing and breastfeeding. The dishes were filled with warm broths, hearty lentils, and fresh vegetables, all seasoned with the perfect blend of spices that she loved. If she didn't finish her meal, Murtasim would feed her the rest himself, making sure she ate every last bite.

Maa Begum had insisted she soak in herbal baths to promote healing. Every day, she was guided into a warm, fragrant bath filled with a mixture of herbs and flowers. The steam curled around her, easing the tension from her muscles and soothing the aches that still lingered in her body. She was given massages and natural painkillers for the contraction-like pains that persisted as her uterus contracted back to its original size. The discomfort was a reminder of the life she had brought into the world, but it was bearable—especially with Murtasim by her side, massaging her back or just holding her hand.

Their room was cleaned daily, sheets changed, the room aired out, while she and Murtasim took their short walk around the garden with Meesam every morning. Those walks had become something she looked forward to, a time to clear her head and reconnect with the world outside her room. The air was crisp and fresh, carrying the scent of blooming flowers and the earthy aroma of the soil. Meesam would be swaddled snugly in Murtasim's arms, her tiny face peeking out as she blinked up at the blue skies and green trees, as much as she could make them out with her newborn vision.

When she had told Murtasim about how different her experience was compared to what she'd read, he had grinned and said, "I told you I was a catch."

She had rolled her eyes and whacked him playfully on the arm.

He had turned right to their choti shehzaadi and said, "See, your ammi hits me."

Despite his teasing, she knew how lucky she was to have him. Murtasim was by her side through every sleepless night, every 3 a.m. feeding, every moment when she doubted herself. Whenever Meesam cried, he was the first to get out of bed, even before Meerab had fully registered the sound.

If she needed to breastfeed, Murtasim would sit behind her, wrapping his arm around her to provide support. He'd feed her sips of water and nibble-sized snacks, ensuring she stayed hydrated and nourished. And once Meesam was done, he would take her, burp her, change her diaper, and settle her back into the bassinet.

There were nights when Meerab fell asleep right after feeding her and woke up a little later to find that Murtasim had Meesam resting on his bare chest while he sat in the armchair by the window, or sometimes while he lay in bed beside her. She knew it wasn't the safest place for Meesam to sleep, so she'd always carefully move her back to the bassinet. But every time she lifted Meesam off of him, Murtasim would make a disapproving noise in his sleep, his brows furrowing as if he was upset that his choti shehzaadi had been taken away. She'd have to whisper it's just me to get him to settle down while biting back a chuckle as she watched him pout in his sleep.

Once she laid back in bed after putting Meesam in the bassinet, Murtasim would sigh happily, reaching out to pull her close again, his arm wrapping around her waist, his face nuzzling into her hair. She'd rest her head on his bicep, her body curling into his, and together they'd fall back asleep, content and at peace.

They had the luxury of sleeping when Meesam slept, of not worrying about anything other than caring for their little family. It was a privilege they didn't take for granted.

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

"It's bath timeeeeeee!" Meerab sang to Meesam, her voice light and playful, filled with the joy and excitement of the moment. This wasn't just any bath—this was Meesam's first real bath. Up until now, they had only been giving her sponge baths, gently cleaning her with soft cloths and warm water while being careful around the delicate stump of her umbilical cord. But today was different. The stump had finally fallen off and healed, and that meant their choti shehzaadi could finally experience the sensation of warm water enveloping her tiny body.

No one was more excited about it than Murtasim, who had been talking about this moment since the doctor had given them the all-clear. He had spent the entire morning making sure everything was perfect, setting up the bathroom with the kind of meticulous care that had become second nature to him since Meesam had arrived. The vanity was transformed into a mini spa for their daughter, complete with a baby bathtub with an inclined support to keep her comfortable and safe. Jugs of both hot and cold boiled water sat on the counter, and a soft, fluffy towel was ready to wrap her up afterward.

As Meerab cradled Meesam in her arms, she couldn't help but smile at how animated her baby seemed. It was as if Meesam could sense the excitement in the air. Her tiny fists opened and closed repeatedly, and her legs kicked out energetically.

"Someone's excited," Meerab said, laughing softly as she watched her daughter's little legs pump in the air.

"Of course she is," Murtasim chimed in, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. "Meri choti shehzaadi can't wait for her first real bath."

They moved into the bathroom, the atmosphere warm and cozy due to the small heater in the corner and the soft lighting. Meerab gently placed Meesam on the changing table beside the sink, but almost immediately, Meesam's face scrunched up in protest.

"Shhhh, it's okay Meesam, we're going to start off like we always do," Meerab soothed, her voice gentle as she stroked her daughter's cheek.

At the sound of her voice, Meesam seemed to calm down a little, her scrunched-up face relaxing as her tiny body stilled. Meerab began to unbutton Meesam's onesie, sliding it off her small, soft body, exposing the smooth, warm skin that had become so familiar to her.

Once Meesam was undressed, Meerab reached for a small bowl of cooled, boiled water and dipped a cotton ball into it. With delicate care, she cleaned each of Meesam's eyelids, one at a time. Meesam's hands moved instinctively, her tiny fingers brushing against Meerab's hand as she worked.

Meerab couldn't help but laugh at the little movements. "Shhhh, you're okay," she whispered, picking up a fresh cotton ball to clean the other eye.

Meesam was so small, so fragile, yet so incredibly precious. Each tiny motion she made, every little sniffle or wiggle, pulled at Meerab's heartstrings. She felt a deep, overwhelming love that she hadn't known was possible before Meesam came into their lives.

Next, Meerab wet a facecloth and began to gently wipe down Meesam's face. Almost immediately, her baby's face crumpled in protest, her tiny mouth opening in a cry.

Murtasim was by her side in an instant, leaning in to rub his finger gently across Meesam's soft head. "We know, we know," he said soothingly, his voice full of warmth and reassurance. "You hate it, but we have to make sure you're clean and pretty, meri choti shehzaadi."

At the sound of her father's voice, Meesam's head turned slightly to the side, her eyes focusing on where Murtasim was leaning in. She sniffled, the crying slowing down as she found comfort in his presence.

Meerab's heart melted as she watched the interaction. She smiled as Murtasim leaned in closer, placing a gentle kiss on Meesam's forehead, making an exaggerated "mwah" sound that made their daughter kick her feet in response and gurgle.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Meerab quickly and efficiently took off Meesam's diaper. It was incredible to think that just a few weeks ago, she had been so nervous about handling a newborn, but now, each step felt like second nature.

She stepped away for a moment to dispose of the diaper, her eyes never leaving Meesam, who was wriggling slightly on the table. Murtasim stayed by her side, his large hand resting gently on Meesam's chest, keeping her calm and secure.

Meerab turned back to the tub, reaching for the jugs of boiled water. She carefully mixed the hot and cold water, checking the temperature with her fingers until it was just right—warm but not too hot, perfect for their little girl's sensitive skin.

"Look!" Murtasim's voice called out to Meerab, a hint of excitement threading through his tone. She turned around, her heart already warming at the sound, and the sight that greeted her made her melt. Meesam had grabbed onto Murtasim's large hand with both of her tiny fists. Her left hand was clutching his pinky finger, while her right hand held onto his thumb, her tiny fingers barely wrapping around it.

"Merī Meesam kitnī strong hai," Murtasim said, his voice softening into a babyish tone that never failed to make Meerab smile. She watched as Meesam tightened her hold slightly, her little face scrunched up in concentration as if she was determined to hold on. The contrast between her tiny hands and his large, calloused ones was stark, making it all the more precious.

"She would do it when I can't get the camera," Meerab muttered playfully, though there was no real frustration in her tone. This was a moment she'd remember forever, camera or not.

It was their favorite game—pressing the palm of her little hands with their fingertips to feel her tiny fingers curl around their finger. But this was the first time Meesam had held on without them prompting her. It was as if she was reaching out to them on her own, recognizing the love and warmth that surrounded her.

"I'll make her do it again," Murtasim said with a soft smile, clearly as captivated by their daughter's grip as Meerab was. He then carefully picked Meesam up, cradling her small body gently. He lowered her into the small tub.

The moment Meesam's tiny toes touched the warm water, she let out a loud wail, her face scrunching up in protest.

"It's okay, you're okay," Meerab soothed, her hand patting her daughter gently until the cries subsided. She watched Murtasim's face, noting the concern etched into his features as he studied their baby girl.

"Is she okay though?" he asked, his eyes never leaving Meesam as she began to settle down, adjusting to the new sensation of water around her.

Meerab poured a small mug of water over Meesam's body, her voice light and comforting. "Do you like it now?" she asked in the baby voice that always made Murtasim chuckle. When Meesam didn't cry right away, Meerab let out a soft laugh. "She's not crying right at this moment, so I'm going to take that as a yes."

Murtasim leaned in, his finger gently tickling Meesam's tummy, causing her to kick her legs reflexively.

"I think that's her happy dance," Meerab laughed, her heart swelling with love as she watched their daughter's tiny legs move in the water. "Isn't it, baby? Are you happy?" she gushed, still using that baby voice.

"She'd be happier if you let me bathe her," Murtasim teased, though there was no real seriousness in his tone.

"Isn't your abbu ridiculous?" Meerab asked Meesam while lathering her small body with soap, using a washcloth to gently clean her delicate skin. "Are you trying to nod for me? You like me more, I know," she added with a laugh when Meesam's face moved slightly.

Murtasim scoffed, his fingers running through Meesam's hair. "You can wash her hair," Meerab suggested, knowing how much it would mean to him.

The way Murtasim's face lit up at her words was priceless. He eagerly grabbed the baby shampoo, squeezing a little onto his palm before gently massaging it into Meesam's scalp. Her little eyes fluttered closed, and she let out a soft cooing noise that made both her parents laugh.

"Jaisi maa, waisi beti," Murtasim teased, clearly enjoying the way Meesam seemed to react like Meerab did when someone played with her hair.

Meerab shook her head, unable to resist teasing back. "Jaisa baap, waisi beti," she corrected with a grin. "Tum bhī aise hī karte ho," she added, reminding him of how he would hum and close his eyes whenever she played with his hair.

"Jaise maa-baap, waisi beti," Murtasim conceded with a chuckle, earning a laugh from Meerab as well.

Murtasim playfully styled Meesam's hair, making it stand up straight. Meerab rolled her eyes but couldn't help smiling as she continued to gently wash their baby's skin. The way they worked together, seamlessly sharing the task of bathing their daughter, felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Meerab carefully pulled Meesam slightly forward to wash her back, but she let out a small whimper, her lips trembling as if she was about to cry again.

"Shhhhh, don't cry, we have to get you squeaky clean," Murtasim whispered softly, rubbing her forehead with his thumb in soothing strokes. Meesam's whimpers quieted, and she calmed down almost immediately, as if her father's touch was all she needed to feel safe.

"It's okay, we're almost done," Meerab reassured, her voice filled with gentle encouragement as she and Murtasim rinsed off the last of the soap and shampoo. She grabbed a soft, fluffy towel, patting Meesam dry before wrapping her in it snugly. As she lifted her daughter to her shoulder, Meesam let out a few more cries, her tiny voice echoing softly in the bathroom.

Meerab rocked her gently, her hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. "Shhh, it's okay, meri jaan," she whispered, her voice filled with warmth and love as she pressed a kiss to her daughter's soft forehead.

Then she turned to her husband. "Your choti shehzaadi awaits her royal massage," Meerab teased, placing a quick kiss on Murtasim's cheek before heading out of the bathroom with their freshly-bathed daughter in her arms.

"You hurt my feelings, I deserve a real kiss," Murtasim called after her, pouting slightly as he followed her into their bedroom.

"Isn't your abbu silly?" Meerab said, addressing Meesam with a playful smile as she gently laid her down on the bed. The little girl blinked up at her, her eyes wide and curious, as if trying to make sense of her new experience. She kicked her tiny feet, her arms flailing slightly as she adjusted to the softness of the bed beneath her.

"So rude," Murtasim murmured, feigning offense before leaning over Meesam. He gave her an Eskimo kiss, gently rubbing his nose against hers.

Meesam responded with a happy little wiggle, her feet kicking even more energetically.

"Now that you're nice and clean, we can give you a little massage," he said, his voice a mix of baby talk and the deep warmth he reserved only for his daughter. Meerab watched as he carefully uncovered Meesam.

"I'm going to leave your diaper off for a few minutes, so no funny business," Murtasim warned, his tone half-joking as he looked down at the little girl, who only responded with a soft gurgle.

Meerab snickered, shaking her head. "Because she can totally understand that and control herself," she teased, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

"We have an understanding," Murtasim insisted, pumping some baby lotion into his hand. The room instantly filled with the light, powdery scent of the lotion—a blend of lavender and chamomile.

"Sure, it's why she peed on you the other night," Meerab giggled, unable to resist bringing up the memory.

"It was an accident!" Murtasim groaned, his expression a mix of mock horror and laughter. "Now, stop disturbing me—this is important work!" he declared with a playful grin as he focused on their daughter.

Meerab watched with a soft smile on her face as Murtasim began the massage. "We'll start with your little shoulders and hands because they are so cute I could eat them up," he cooed, gently rubbing the lotion into Meesam's delicate skin. He was meticulous in his movements, his long fingers spreading the lotion evenly as he massaged it in. Meesam's tiny fingers curled around his thumb as he worked, her eyes fluttering shut in contentment.

Meerab took the opportunity to grab her face lotion, gently dabbing a couple of spots of Meesam's face before rubbing it in gently while she was relaxed.

"And now it's time for your tummy," Murtasim sang, his voice light and playful as he rubbed lotion into Meesam's soft belly. Meesam squirmed a little, her legs kicking out as if the sensation tickled her.

"Are you ticklish, Meesam?" he asked, a grin spreading across his face as she wiggled in response.

"Don't tickle my baby!" Meerab protested, though her voice held no real sternness.

Murtasim turned to her, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I just remembered...I can tickle you now," he said, his tone playful and teasing.

"You can't!" Meerab exclaimed.

"You're not pregnant anymore so I can!" he replied, as he rubbed lotion into Meesam's tiny legs, his hands gentle but firm. "These are the legs that kicked to say hi," he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to her feet after he finished massaging them.

Meesam let out a soft, contented coo as he did so, her tiny toes curling slightly at the sensation.

Murtasim gently rolled Meesam onto her tummy, preparing to massage her back. Meerab lay down on the bed beside them, propping herself up on her elbows so she could be closer to her daughter's face. "Is abbu doing a good job?" she asked in a soft, soothing tone as Meesam tried to lift her head, her little muscles working hard to hold it up.

Meesam let out a loud noise—somewhere between a coo and a squeak. "That's a yes," Murtasim said, his grin widening as he continued to work the lotion into her skin.

Meerab smiled, reaching out to trace the soft lines of Meesam's features with her fingertip. Her daughter's skin was so smooth, so soft, and she looked so much like Murtasim. But he said she looked like her.

Meerab took in a deep breath, her heart swelling with love and contentment. "You smell so good, I could eat you," she told Meesam, leaning down to press a kiss to her baby's head. She was obsessed with the way Meesam smelled—like baby lotion and powder, but somehow better. It was a scent that was uniquely hers, comforting and sweet, something that no bottle of lotion could ever replicate.

Murtasim snickered as he stepped away to grab a diaper and onesie. "Maybe I should lather myself in baby lotion if that's your reaction."

"Won't work—you're not this cute," Meerab teased, shooting him a playful look as she rolled Meesam onto her back again and expertly put the diaper on Meesam, her movements swift and sure.

Murtasim feigned offense, clutching at his chest dramatically. "Your ammi is a liar, did you know that, Meesam?" he said, his voice filled with mock indignation as Meerab put Meesam in a zipper-onesie.

"Stop instigating our child against me!" Meerab whined, though she couldn't keep the smile off her face.

"It's not instigating if it's true," Murtasim countered, his grin widening as he watched Meerab swaddle Meesam.

Meerab rolled her eyes, leaning down to whisper to Meesam. "Look, Meesam, your abbu is risking sleeping on the couch tonight," she said, her voice low and conspiratorial as if sharing a secret.

"I didn't say anything," Murtasim said with a smirk as he sat back against the headboard and bent his knees, planting his feet firmly on the bed. He looked up at Meerab with a playful glint in his eyes, his hands already reaching out instinctively to cradle Meesam, who was swaddled and nestled in her mother's arms.

Meerab smiled softly and carefully placed Meesam on Murtasim's thighs, positioning her so he could look down at her. Meesam was beginning to get tired, her tiny body shifting as she adjusted to the new position. A small yawn escaped her, her little mouth opening wide, her eyes squeezing shut as if the effort of the yawn had taken everything out of her.

"Her yawn is so cute," Murtasim whispered, his voice filled with awe. He leaned in closer, his gaze fixed on their daughter as if she were the most precious thing in the world—which, of course, she was. His fingers gently brushed over Meesam's tiny hand.

"Cuter than her little hiccups?" Meerab teased.

"That's an impossible question to answer!" Murtasim muttered, "her yawn, her hiccups, her sneezes, and her coos are all tied."

Meerab hummed in agreement, her head resting comfortably on Murtasim's shoulder as she watched their daughter with a tender smile. "She'll sleep for a bit and then she'll be hungry, and then we'll need to change her, and then repeat," she sighed, a mix of contentment and exhaustion in her voice. The routine had become familiar in the days since they'd brought Meesam home, but it was still so new and overwhelming at times.

Murtasim chuckled softly, his breath warm against Meerab's hair. "Hmmm, let's put her to sleep now and have lunch before she starts screaming for hers." He suggested, his tone light, yet practical. They had quickly learned that any opportunity for a meal needed to be seized while their daughter slept because once she was awake, everything else was put on hold. But thankfully, their daughter slept 18 hours in a day, waking up just for 30 to 50 minutes to feed, play, and get changed.

"Look," Meerab whispered, her voice full of quiet excitement as Meesam yawned again. Their baby's little mouth opened even wider this time, her eyes closing as she wiggled a bit, trying to find the perfect spot to settle back into sleep.

Murtasim watched with adoration as Meesam's movements slowed, her tiny body relaxing more and more with each gentle rock of his legs. He continued to move his feet softly, lifting them up and then pressing them back down against the mattress, creating a slow, soothing rhythm, rocking her as though she were cradled in a warm, safe cocoon.

It didn't take long for Meesam to drift off completely, her breathing evening out as she fell into a deep sleep, the tiny rise and fall of her chest barely visible under the swaddle.

"I kind of don't want to move her," Meerab sighed, her eyes lingering on their sleeping daughter, who looked so peaceful in that moment. There was something about seeing Meesam so relaxed and serene that made her heart swell with love.

Murtasim gently kissed the top of Meerab's head, his lips lingering there for a moment as he took in the scent of her hair. "We need to eat," he reminded her, though his voice held the same reluctance she felt. They both knew how precious these quiet moments were, but they also knew that they had to take care of themselves in order to take care of Meesam.

Murtasim slowly got up from the bed, his hands supporting Meesam's tiny body as he carried her over to the bassinet. He carefully placed her down, ensuring that she was snug and secure.

As he turned back toward the bed, Meerab expected him to head straight for the door to get them food. Instead, he surprised her by crawling back onto the bed, immediately burying his face in her stomach. She let out a small laugh, her fingers instinctively finding their way into his hair, gently massaging his scalp.

"Your kameez is damp," Murtasim murmured, his voice muffled against the fabric of her shirt. He didn't seem to mind, though. If anything, he seemed to relish being this close to her again, something they hadn't been able to do properly since the last months of her pregnancy when her belly had kept them at a bit of a distance.

"You were going to get us food," Meerab whined playfully, continuing to run her fingers through his hair, her touch gentle and soothing. Despite her words, she wasn't in a hurry to move either; there was something comforting about just being with him like this, in the quiet of their room, with their daughter sleeping nearby.

Murtasim lifted his head just enough to look up at her, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Already set up in the seating room outside," he revealed, clearly pleased with himself.

Meerab laughed, a soft, melodious sound that filled the room with warmth. "Nice," she said, relaxing back against the headboard, allowing herself to fully enjoy the closeness of her husband's embrace. His arms were wrapped around her tightly, making her feel safe and loved.

"I told you I was a catch," he teased, his tone light and playful, though there was a hint of seriousness behind it. He loved taking care of her, and he wanted her to know just how committed he was to making sure she had everything she needed.

Meerab's heart swelled with affection for him, and she pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "You are," she murmured, her voice filled with love and gratitude.

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

Meerab stirred awake, the remnants of sleep still clinging to her as she blinked against the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. Something felt different, though. She squinted, her eyes struggling to adjust to the sight above her. The entire ceiling was covered in rose-gold balloons, dozens of them, their shiny surfaces gently bobbing in the air, reflecting the light in a way that made the room feel ethereal, almost dreamlike.

For a moment, she wondered if she was still dreaming. The balloons swayed slightly, creating a soft rustling sound that was oddly comforting. Her heart fluttered in her chest, a mix of surprise and joy bubbling up inside her as she tried to wrap her head around the scene.

She blinked a few more times, and just as the realization began to dawn on her, she felt a warm presence hovering close. Before she could fully register it, Murtasim's face appeared above her, his eyes crinkling with joy, and his lips pulled into that devastatingly handsome smile that always made her heart skip a beat.

"Happy birthday," he whispered, his voice filled with love and excitement.

Before she could respond, before she could fully take in the words, he leaned down and began to press soft, featherlight kisses all over her face. The touch of his lips was warm and tender, moving from her forehead to her cheeks, down to her nose, to the corners of her mouth, and back again. Each kiss was accompanied by another quick whispered "happy birthday," his breath warm against her skin.

Meerab giggled, the sound filling the room.

She had never been woken up on her birthday like this before. This... this was different. This was an outpouring of love that wrapped around her like a warm blanket, making her feel cherished in a way she had never known.

Her hands instinctively reached up, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as he continued his assault of playful kisses, his lips trailing along her jawline now, the scruff of his beard grazed her skin, and she couldn't stop the giggles that kept escaping her lips.

"Murtasim," she finally managed to breathe out between giggles, her voice thick with happiness. "Stop, that tickles!"

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look into her eyes, but he didn't stop smiling. His eyes sparkled, she could see the love there, so much of it that it made her heart swell in her chest.

"It's your birthday, and I'm going to kiss you as much as I want."

She laughed, a bright, joyous sound that she couldn't contain even if she wanted to. "Shouldn't you listen to me since it's my birthday?" she teased.

Murtasim leaned in and pressed one last kiss to her forehead, lingering there for a moment. "Fine," he whispered against her skin.

As he pulled back, their eyes locked. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice cracking slightly with emotion. She reached up, cupping his face in her hands, her thumbs brushing gently across his cheeks.

As his lips neared her mouth, she quickly placed a hand over his, stopping him in his tracks. "Morning breath," she mumbled with a sheepish grin, her cheeks flushing slightly.

Murtasim sighed but nodded in understanding, though not without a playful pout that made her giggle even more. "Fine, I'll let you off the hook... for now," he teased, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face.

Meerab couldn't help but laugh softly. She glanced over at the bassinet where Meesam was still fast asleep, her little chest rising and falling with each peaceful breath. "How did you manage to do all of this without waking me or Meesam up?" she asked, considering the number of balloons she could see, he must have spent quite some time setting up.

He grinned, clearly proud of himself. "I have my ways," he said with a wink, making her smile even wider.

She smiled back up at him, feeling a rush of love for the man who had gone through so much trouble just to make her feel special. "All of your favorite foods are being prepared for breakfast today," he said, his voice laced with excitement.

She grinned back at him, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. "Thank you... and my present?" she teased, raising an eyebrow at him.

Murtasim's grin widened as he leaned in closer. "Me," he said with a cheeky smirk, making her roll her eyes. She playfully tried to push him off her, but he didn't budge an inch. Instead, he just laughed softly, the sound vibrating through her chest where he was still leaning.

Meerab arched an eyebrow at him, pretending to be annoyed, but the smile tugging at her lips gave her away. Murtasim chuckled, sitting up and pulling her with him so that they were both sitting on the bed. His eyes flickered to Meesam for a moment, making sure she was still asleep, before he reached over to the bedside table and grabbed a thin box wrapped in rose gold paper.

"Pretty light," Meerab teased as she took the box from him, her curiosity piqued.

"Open it," he urged, the excitement in his voice palpable.

Meerab carefully unwrapped the box, taking her time as she peeled away the paper. Inside, she found a plain box, her curiosity piquing as she opened it to reveal its contents. Inside were a set of tickets and an itinerary. Her eyes scanned the words on the paper, her heart skipping a beat as she realized what she was holding.

Tickets to the Maldives for August. And an itinerary with two columns, one column said With Meesam and the other said Without Meesam.

"The Maldives?" she asked, her voice a mixture of excitement and confusion as she looked up at him. The idea of going on a trip so soon after having Meesam hadn't even crossed her mind, she would only be 3 months old in August.

He nodded, his eyes twinkling with excitement. "You wanted to go," he said simply, as if that explained everything.

"But... Meesam?" she questioned, her eyes flicking back to the bassinet where their daughter still slept peacefully. The idea of taking her on such a big trip, or leaving her behind, made her heart clench with worry.

Murtasim's expression softened as he reached out to gently tap her nose, understanding her concerns without her having to voice them. "I talked to Dua and Dr Abbasi. Since Meesam was a full-term baby and is healthy, she can travel as early as six weeks, but 2-3 months is perfect. The resort has babysitting services too," he explained patiently. "If we don't want to take her, Maa, Maryam, and your mom have all agreed to look after her for a week. Dua said if you're pumping regularly and freezing the milk, they should have more than enough to last for the week, and we should just make sure she's comfortable with them in the weeks leading up to the vacation."

Meerab's heart swelled with warmth. It was obvious how much time and effort he had put into planning this, making sure all the details were covered and that they had options.

The thought of leaving Meesam behind made Meerab's chest tighten with anxiety. Her baby would be just three months old—so small, so dependent on her. What if something happened while they were away? What if Meesam needed them in the middle of the night, and they weren't there to comfort her? The idea of being away from her, even for a few days, felt almost unbearable. She imagined Meesam waking up, her little face scrunching up in confusion as she looked around for her parents. Would her daughter understand that they would be back soon? The guilt gnawed at her heart, and she could feel the tears prickling at the corners of her eyes.

But on the other hand, if they took Meesam with them, would she be safe? The idea of traveling with a newborn was daunting. What if the plane ride was too much for her? What if the change in environment upset her delicate system? What if she got sick far away from home? Her mind raced with all the possible scenarios, each one more terrifying than the last.

She thought of the resort, the babysitting services, and how Murtasim had assured her that everything would be taken care of, but the doubts still lingered. Could she truly enjoy the trip if she was constantly worrying about Meesam's well-being? Would she be able to relax, or would she spend every moment anxious and on edge, wondering if they had made the right choice?

Meerab sighed, the weight of the decision pressing down on her. She glanced over at the bassinet, where Meesam still slept peacefully, completely unaware of the turmoil in her mother's heart. And then she looked back at Murtasim, who was watching her with so much love and patience, waiting for her to say what she wanted.

He seemed to understand her internal struggle, the way she was torn between wanting to be with their daughter and wanting to reclaim a little piece of the life they had before becoming parents. His hand, warm and reassuring, reached out to gently cup her cheek, grounding her in the present.

"We don't need to decide now," Murtasim's voice was soft, soothing, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. "We can take our time."

Meerab smiled at him, her heart swelling with gratitude. He wasn't pressuring her, wasn't making her feel guilty for not knowing what she wanted. Instead, he was giving her space to process, to think, and to come to a decision that felt right.

Meerab smiled, leaning into his touch as she nodded. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. She wasn't just thanking him for the gift, but for understanding her so completely.

Murtasim leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment. "Happy birthday, Meerab," he whispered again, his voice filled with all the love he had for her.

The room was filled with a quiet peace as they both savored the moment, Murtasim's hand still resting gently on Meerab's cheek, his thumb brushing softly against her skin. Just as she was about to speak, they both heard a small noise, almost like a soft sigh, coming from the bassinet.

Meerab's eyes flicked open, and she turned her head slightly towards the sound. Meesam was stirring, her tiny body wiggling beneath blanket swaddling around her. She let out another little noise, this one a bit more insistent. She often made noises as she slept, and settled back down immediately, but the sounds paired with the time of day meant she was about to wake up.

Murtasim's gaze softened as he looked at their daughter, a tender smile tugging at his lips. "I think someone's waking up," he whispered.

Meesam's noises grew a little louder, her small face scrunching up as she tried to fully wake up. Her eyelids fluttered open, revealing her dark, curious eyes that seemed to take in the world with a new sense of awareness every time they opened. Then, almost predictably, she let out a small, plaintive cry.

Murtasim was already moving, unwrapping the blanket that was swaddled around her, his arms reaching out to pick her up with the ease, even as Meesam stretched. He cradled her gently against his chest, her tiny head nestled under his chin as he began to rock her softly.

"Good morning, meri choti shehzaadi, did you wake up to say happy birthday to your ammi?" He murmured, pressing a kiss to her soft forehead.

Meesam's cries quieted down almost immediately as she settled into her father's embrace, her little body relaxing as she felt the familiar warmth and security that Murtasim provided. She made a few more small noises, almost like she was trying to communicate with him in her own baby language.

Meerab reached out, her hand brushing gently over Meesam's tiny back before she leaned in and placed a soft kiss on her daughter's head.

"Good morning, meri Meesam," she whispered, her voice as tender as a caress. Meesam responded with a small coo, her eyes now wide open and looking up at her parents.

Murtasim chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners with affection as he looked down at his daughter. "She's definitely a morning person," he said, his voice low and filled with adoration.

Just as he said that, Meesam's tiny mouth began to open and close, her head moving slightly from side to side as she pressed her face against Murtasim's chest. She was searching, instinctively trying to find something, and it didn't take long for both Meerab and Murtasim to realize what she was doing.

"Oh, I see what's going on," Murtasim said with a soft laugh, as he lifted Meesam slightly, bringing her up to face level. "I don't have what you're looking for, meri choti shehzaadi," he teased, his voice full of affection as he pressed a kiss to Meesam's forehead.

Meesam's tiny mouth continued to open and close, her little lips making soft, almost desperate searching motions. Without missing a beat, she leaned in and tried to latch onto Murtasim's nose, mistaking it for the source of her breakfast.

The unexpectedness of it caught both Meerab and Murtasim off guard, and they both burst into laughter, startling Meesam who jumped a little. Murtasim's deep, hearty laugh mixed with Meerab's light, melodic giggles, filling the room with warmth, along with Meesam's coos.

"She's really determined," Murtasim managed to say between laughs, his shoulders shaking as he tried to gently pull his nose away from Meesam's insistent little mouth. But the more he tried, the more Meesam seemed determined to latch onto it.

The sight of their daughter earnestly trying to figure out why her food wasn't cooperating was simply too funny to handle. Meerab was laughing so hard she had tears in her eyes, her hand covering her mouth as she tried to catch her breath.

Murtasim grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he continued to hold Meesam up. "Sorry, meri choti shehzaadi, but this isn't going to work," he said, gently tilting her back so she would stop trying to latch onto his nose.

But Meesam, not to be deterred, made another attempt, her tiny hands reaching up towards his face as she tried to bring his nose closer. The determined expression on her little face only made Murtasim and Meerab laugh harder.

"Oh, Meesam," Meerab said, finally catching her breath enough to speak. She reached out and gently took Meesam from Murtasim's arms, holding her close. "Let's get you to the right source of food, okay?"

Murtasim shook his head, still grinning as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to Meesam's forehead. "You definitely take after your ammi with that determination," he teased, giving Meerab a playful look as he unbuttoned her shirt and unclipped her nursing bra.

Meerab rolled her eyes but couldn't help the smile that spread across her face. "Or maybe she's just stubborn like her abbu," she shot back as she brought Meesam to her chest, the baby finally found what she was looking for and latched on with a satisfied little sigh. Meerab looked down at her daughter, her heart swelling with a love so deep it was almost overwhelming. She glanced up at Murtasim, who was still smiling at the two of them with pure adoration in his eyes.

Meerab watched as Murtasim quietly got up from the bed and walked over to the small table by the armchairs in their room. When he turned back around, he held a small box in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

As he approached, Meerab looked up at him, curiosity sparking in her eyes. "What's that?" she asked, a smile already forming on her lips.

"Something sweet," Murtasim replied with a grin, handing her the water first. "But first, drink this."

She took the glass from him carefully and downed it all while Meesam fed, her hand resting on her breast as she did.

Once she had finished the water, he set the glass down on the bedside table and opened the small box he had brought. Inside was a slice of rich chocolate cake, the kind she loved. He grabbed a spoon and scooped up a small bite, holding it up to her lips.

"You feed her, and I'll feed you," he smiled.

"I love you," she mumbled as she took a bite of the cake.

"Was that for me or the cake?" He teased.

She shrugged as she chewed.

"Hey!" She said as he took a bite of his own.

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Her birthday flew by in a blur of warm, comforting moments. After a hearty breakfast with their family, Meerab and Murtasim had taken Meesam on a leisurely walk around the garden, enjoying the crisp morning air. The cool breeze rustled through the leaves, and the sound of birds chirping created a soothing backdrop to their morning. They had eventually settled on a picnic blanket spread out under the shade of a large tree, letting Meesam take in the world around her.

Meesam, now three weeks old, was a bundle of soft coos and curious expressions. Her little fists would occasionally clench and unclench, and she blinked up at the sky, seemingly fascinated by the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees. When they finally lay down on the blanket, she nestled comfortably between them, her tiny fingers gripping Murtasim's kurta as he gently rocked her to sleep.

After their relaxing morning, Meerab had taken the time to dress up for the first time in what felt like ages. She chose a white suit, the fabric soft and flowing, with delicate embroidery. The kameez had intricate detailing along the neckline and sleeves, the white-on-white design subtle but beautiful – a far cry from what she wore recently. As she dressed and did her makeup, she couldn't help but feel more like herself—something she hadn't felt in a while. She had missed this, missed feeling put together, missed the little things that made her feel like Meerab and not just a new mother navigating sleepless nights and endless feedings.

When she finally stepped out of the room, she was greeted by the sight of Murtasim, looking effortlessly handsome in his crisp white kurta-pajama. He had Meesam in his arms, the little one fast asleep against his shoulder, her tiny body rising and falling with each breath. She didn't stir even as they went down to dinner – even as Murtasim kept telling her look how pretty your ammi is.

Her parents had arrived from Karachi for a small birthday dinner. It was a simple affair, but the warmth of having her loved ones around made it special. They shared stories, laughter, and a delicious meal, but as everyone was finishing up, Meerab noticed Murtasim exchanging a glance with Maa Begum. There was something conspiratorial in the way they looked at each other, and it made Meerab's curiosity pique.

"I have a surprise for you," Murtasim said, turning to her with that familiar, mischievous glint in his eye.

Meerab looked at him, slightly hesitant, especially as he handed Meesam to Anila. But before she could protest, her mother placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "We have bottles," Anila said with a knowing smile.

Meerab knew that. The fridge and freezer were already filling up with breast milk. Her breasts were filling up faster than Meesam could feed, and Dua had said to maintain her supply and prevent discomfort, she should be pumping regularly. It meant there was milk for Meesam when she might need it, and that anyone could feed her.

But she was the only one that fed Meesam, and Meesam only let Murtasim feed her with a bottle when she was half-asleep and couldn't tell the difference.

Her mother seemed to pick up on her hesitance because she smiled, "We've raised kids before, you know." She said. "And you won't be far, we'll come get you if she needs you."

Meerab relaxed, nodding as she allowed herself to be led away by Murtasim. Her heart fluttered with anticipation as they made their way through the house and out into the garden. The moment she stepped outside, she let out a soft laugh. The entire garden was bathed in a warm, golden glow, the twinkling fairy lights adorning every tree, every bush, creating a magical atmosphere. It was like stepping into a dream.

Murtasim had truly outdone himself. He led her to the bench, now covered in a soft, fuzzy blanket. In front of them, a small table was set with a thermos, two cups, and a plate covered with a cloche.

He helped her sit down, covering her with the blanket before settling beside her. The cool evening air was perfectly countered by the warmth of the blanket and the closeness of his body next to hers.

"Is there coffee in that?" Meerab teased as she eyed the thermos.

"Hot chocolate," Murtasim replied with a grin. "It goes better with these." He removed the cloche, revealing a plate of chocolate chip cookies.

Meerab squealed in delight, making him chuckle. He poured them both hot chocolate, the rich, velvety aroma filling the air. They sat there, cuddled under the blanket, sipping their drinks and nibbling on cookies, enjoying the rare moment of peace and quiet. It was the first time since Meesam was born that they had been truly alone together, and it felt like a little piece of heaven.

She leaned against his shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. "You're not going to tell me about the seven stages of love today?" she teased, recalling the last time they had sat on this very bench, wrapped in a blanket under the stars.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through her. "That seems like it was another life."

She hummed in agreement. It did feel like a lifetime ago, though it had only been months. So much had changed since then. "What were the stages again?" she asked, even though she remembered them perfectly, she just like to hear him speak.

"Dilkashi. Uns. Mohabbat. Akidat. Ibadat. Junoon. Maut." He whispered the words, each one carrying a weight of its own.

Meerab closed her eyes, savoring the sound of his voice. "You know," she began, her tone thoughtful, "I realized that night that I loved you, if not ishq, then mohabbat at least."

He chuckled again, but there was a softness in his voice when he asked, "And now?"

She opened her eyes, turning towards him, meeting his gaze. "Do you need to ask?" she teased, but there was a seriousness in her tone, a depth of feeling that words could barely convey.

"Sometimes you need to hear it... even if your eyes say everything that goes on in that pretty head of yours," he said, his eyes sparkling with love.

"Ishq seems like it's not enough to describe what I feel anymore," she admitted, her voice tinged with awe at the realization, she never thought she would love Murtasim as much as she did.

He smiled, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. "I get what you mean."

Meerab felt something more than ishq for the man next to her, but she didn't really know how to describe it. It was a love so deep, so all-encompassing, that it felt like it transcended the word itself. So instead of trying to find the right words, she simply cuddled closer to him, letting the warmth of his body, the sound of his heartbeat, and the comfort of his presence speak for her.

They spent the rest of the evening talking about everything and nothing all at once. Murtasim would steal bites of her cookie, making her laugh, and gently prodded her to play with the sparklers he had brought along because he knew how much she loved fireworks. He had chosen sparklers instead of loud fireworks, knowing that the noise might scare Meesam. His thoughtfulness made her love him even more.

And maybe, just maybe, as they sat there under the blanket, surrounded by the twinkling lights and the quiet of the night, Meerab might have leaned in and kissed him for a long time, savoring the feel of his lips against hers. It was a kiss filled with all the love she felt for him, all the gratitude, and all the joy that came with knowing he was hers and she was his, forever.

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Author's Note: So, what do you think? What was your favourite part?! 

I am hoping to post ten more chapters of Unveiling Meerab, going through Meesam's first year of life in some detail before jumping through the years to highlight some key moments until the epilogue. I have also decided that although this story will "end" at Chapter 60, I will continue to (if and as inspiration strikes) to post random updates once in a while. The part of me that doesn't want to let this story go could only settle for that!