Author's Note: Hi y'all! I am glad y'all are enjoying the fluff, we get some more fluff in this chapter and then we switch gears a little in the next chapter, hehe. I hope y'all enjoy it, see you n the other side!

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The morning sunlight filtered gently through the curtains, filling the room with a warm, golden light that bathed everything in a soft glow. On the large bed, tiny Meesam, just two months old, lay on her back, her chubby legs kicking the air aimlessly. She wore a soft pink onesie adorned with little clouds and stars, looking every bit like the angel she was. Her wide eyes wandered curiously around the room, occasionally pausing to focus on her parents.

Murtasim lay propped up on one elbow, his gaze locked onto Meesam's tiny face. He couldn't help the grin that stretched across his lips as he watched her little lips purse and her tiny fists clench and unclench in the air. Every little movement she made felt like a miracle to him. She was so small, yet she had filled his heart in ways he never imagined possible.

He leaned down slowly, his beard brushing lightly against the soft fabric of her onesie, and nuzzled her tiny chest. The sensation made her pause for a second, before she let out a delighted little coo, "Ah-goo," her eyes squinting in that adorable way that made his heart swell. She kicked her legs harder, her tiny arms flailing in the air like she was trying to grab onto him.

Meerab, lying on the other side, chuckled softly at the sight. "She loves it when you do that," she said, her voice warm and affectionate. She reached over, gently stroking Meesam's cheek with the tip of her finger.

He leaned in again, this time pressing a soft kiss on Meesam's neck, just above the edge of her onesie before nuzzling her again, letting his beard tickle her skin in that gentle way that always made her react.

"Gah! Ah-bah!" Meesam squealed, her little legs kicking out in excitement as if she was asking for more, her tiny fists waving around as if to grab him.

Meerab laughed, the sound light and carefree. "Maybe she's saying, 'More, more!'"

Murtasim chuckled, looking down at his little daughter with pure adoration. "Is that it, meri Meesam? You want more, meri choti shehzaadi?" he asked, his voice playful as he leaned down to nuzzle her again, this time moving up to her tiny, round cheeks, rubbing his beard gently against her soft skin.

The response was immediate—another series of delighted coos, "Goo-ooo," followed by a happy squeal that filled the room with its sweetness.

Murtasim couldn't stop smiling.

"She's going to grow up thinking your beard is her personal toy," Meerab teased.

"Well, if it makes her happy then why not," he replied, watching the way Meesam's tiny face lit up every time his beard brushed against her.

"She's so ticklish," Meerab observed with a quiet giggle, her hand resting gently on Meesam's tiny belly. The rise and fall of Meesam's excited little breaths made her belly bounce under her mother's hand, and Murtasim couldn't help but smile at the sight. Meesam's face lit up with a wide, toothless smile that made her cheeks scrunch up adorably.

Murtasim leaned in closer, not able to resist the urge to kiss her cheek, which was getting chubbier by the day. The touch of his lips made Meesam's face scrunch up even more, her tiny fists waving around in the air, and he could feel her body vibrating with excitement.

He knew from the books that it was just a social smile, that early stage where babies smiled as a reflex or in response to seeing familiar faces rather than out of conscious happiness. But even if it wasn't the real deal yet, it had already become his favorite smile in the world. That little scrunched-up expression, the way her eyes sparkled as she looked up at him, was everything he needed to make his heart happy.

"I can't believe how much she's grown already," Meerab said, her voice filled with awe as her fingers gently traced Meesam's tiny features. "Just look at those chubby cheeks!"

Murtasim chuckled, his fingers playfully pinching Meesam's thigh through the soft fabric of her onesie. "And those legs," he added, his voice filled with affection. Her tiny leg kicked out reflexively at his touch, her skin warm and soft beneath his fingertips.

Meesam let out another sound, quieter this time, as if all the excitement was starting to tire her out. "Ah-goo," she murmured, her eyes beginning to grow heavier, but her little hands still reaching up as if trying to touch them both, her parents, the center of her little world.

Murtasim watched as Meerab leaned over their daughter, her long hair falling like a curtain around their baby, and Meesam giggled and squirmed in response, her tiny body wiggling under the weight of her mother's attention. Murtasim's heart swelled, the sight of them together filled him with a love so deep, it almost overwhelmed him.

"Oh, you're so cute!" Meerab whispered, her voice full of adoration as she gazed down at Meesam's face, her own eyes crinkling with joy.

"Oooooo," Meesam cooed back, her tiny mouth forming a perfect little 'O' as she tried to mimic the sounds her mother was making. It was as if she was already trying to join in the conversation, her little voice trying to keep up with the world around her.

Meerab smiled wider, her eyes twinkling with love as she pressed a gentle kiss to Meesam's tiny forehead. Then, with a playful grin, she began planting soft, quick kisses all over Meesam's face—first on her cheeks, then on her nose, then down to her chin, and finally on her little neck. Each kiss drew a series of delighted gurgles and coos from Meesam, her tiny body wriggling with excitement.

"Mm-mm," Meesam murmured between her happy squeals, her tiny hands flailing in the air with excitement.

Murtasim's heart swelled with warmth as Meerab's laughter mingled with Meesam's delighted squeals. Every kiss Meerab placed on their daughter's tiny face was met with a stream of baby sounds and wiggling legs, her joy infectious.

"Mwah! Mwah!" Meerab exaggerated with each kiss, drawing even more movement from their choti shehzaadi, whose legs kicked with pure excitement.

"Ahh-bah!" Meesam responded with babyish enthusiasm, her sparkling eyes locked on her mother's face as her whole body wiggled in delight. She babbled away, her baby talk becoming more animated with every kiss she received.

Murtasim grinned, watching the two of them. "She loves kisses, just like me... but I love them more," he quipped, puckering his lips dramatically for a kiss.

Meerab glanced up at him, rolling her eyes with a teasing smile. "Acha?" she teased, her voice playful.

He nodded, his lips still puckered, waiting expectantly.

She chuckled, leaning up to peck him quickly on the lips before pulling back, shaking her head. "It's more fun to kiss her."

Murtasim gasped, pretending to be offended. "I've been replaced by my own daughter!" he exclaimed with mock disbelief, making Meerab burst out into laughter.

"Isn't your abbu so funny, meri Meesam?" Meerab cooed down at their daughter.

As if on cue, Meesam responded with another babbled "Goo-oo!" Her little mouth curved into what looked like the beginnings of a smile, and Murtasim's heart melted at the sight.

Murtasim shifted on the bed. He leaned in to press a gentle kiss to Meerab's cheek before turning his attention to Meesam. "Let me try," he said with a playful grin, leaning over their baby girl as Meerab moved to the side a bit.

He kissed Meesam's chubby cheek softly, and immediately, she let out another happy coo. "Ahh-bah!" she exclaimed, her tiny hands reaching up toward his face, as if trying to grab hold of him.

He laughed softly, his chest filling with joy

Meerab chuckled from the other side. "I think she's saying, 'ouch, your beard is prickly!'"

Murtasim laughed, taking the hint. He leaned down again, this time kissing Meesam's other cheek and then her little button nose, making sure to soften the bristle of his beard against her delicate skin.

Each kiss elicited another burst of excited babbling from Meesam. "Goo! Ah! Bah! Mm-mm!" she babbled, her tiny hands finally making contact with Murtasim's face. Her fingers grasped his beard, tugging at it gently, and both he and Meerab burst into laughter.

"I love you, meri choti shehzaadi," he whispered, his voice thick with affection. His love for her was overwhelming, a force he could never have imagined before she was born.

Meesam let out a soft coo in response, her eyelids fluttering as if the excitement was starting to tire her out. Her little body seemed to relax, and her tiny hands, still clutching at the air, began to slow down as sleep crept in.

Meerab leaned down, placing one final kiss on Meesam's forehead before resting her cheek gently against her baby's soft head. "I think she's ready for a nap," she murmured, her voice filled with contentment and warmth.

Murtasim nodded, watching with a smile as Meesam's eyes slowly began to close. Her tiny hands, once reaching for him and grasping his beard, now stilled as she drifted off to sleep. He could have stayed there forever, just watching the two most important people in his life, basking in the peacefulness of the moment.

As the room grew quiet, Murtasim couldn't help but marvel at how complete his world felt right then. His family. His love. His happiness, all wrapped up in the two beautiful souls lying next to him.

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It was 3 a.m., and the soft glow of the bedside lamp cast a warm, gentle light across the room, giving the illusion of calm despite the tension that hung in the air. Meerab sat on the edge of the bed, her body exhausted but her mind alert, while Murtasim stood beside her, both of their gazes fixed on little Meesam. The peace that usually came with this late hour had been interrupted by the insistent cries of their daughter. Meesam's tiny face was scrunched up, her mouth open wide as she wailed, her little fists clenching and unclenching as if trying to communicate something urgent.

Meerab's heart ached at the sound of those cries. It pierced through her, making every instinct scream to comfort her baby. She quickly scooped Meesam up into her arms, cradling her against her chest as she rocked gently back and forth. "Shh, shh, it's okay, Meesam," she whispered, trying to soothe her, her voice soft but desperate. But the cries only grew louder, more frantic. Meesam's tiny body stiffened in her arms, and her legs kicked out, her discomfort unmistakable.

Murtasim, standing just beside them, tapped his foot anxiously against the floor, his hand running through his already messy hair. The worry etched deep into his brow made Meerab's chest tighten. "Is she hungry again?" he asked, his voice tense with concern. His eyes were their daughter, the helplessness clear in every look.

Meerab shook her head, frowning as she thought through the possibilities. "I just fed her an hour ago. She shouldn't be hungry again." She shifted Meesam in her arms and quickly checked her diaper, but it was perfectly clean and dry. "And her diaper's fine." Her mind raced as she tried to figure out what could be wrong, but nothing was adding up.

Meesam's cries didn't let up. If anything, they became more urgent, her little fists clenching tighter and her face growing redder with each sob. It was as if she was trying to tell them something they couldn't understand. The frustration of not knowing how to help weighed heavy on both of them.

Murtasim leaned in closer, his expression one of sheer helplessness. "What's wrong, meri choti shehzadi? Why can't we figure this out?" His voice cracked with frustration, and Meerab could hear the weight of his worry in the words. It mirrored her own, the deep, gnawing helplessness that comes with seeing your child in distress and not knowing what to do.

Meerab took a deep breath, her mind suddenly flashing to something she'd seen recently. She glanced over at her phone on the nightstand, an idea slowly forming. "Let me check something," she said, her voice quiet but laced with hope. She vaguely recalled seeing a video about identifying baby cries — something that, at the time, she had watched out of curiosity, but thought wasn't helpful because all of her baby's cries had sounded the same to her ear.

Murtasim watched her closely, his arms already reaching out to take Meesam from her. "Here, I'll hold her," he said softly, his voice gentle despite the anxiety that rolled off him in waves. He rocked their daughter, trying to comfort her, whispering soft "shh, shh" sounds while her cries filled the room.

Meerab grabbed her phone with trembling hands, her fingers quickly typing as she searched for the video. "I saw a video about different baby cries — how they sound when they're hungry, tired, or in pain. Or something," she muttered, her brow furrowing as she scrolled through the results. She could feel Murtasim looking over her shoulder.

After a few moments, she found it. She pressed play, and the two of them leaned in, listening intently as the woman explained the different types of cries. "'Neh' for hunger," the voice on the video explained, "'Owh' for tiredness, 'Eh' for needing to burp, the 'Heh' for discomfort, and the 'eair' sound for lower gas, which often sounds like a pained wail."

"They all sound the same," Murtasim muttered, his frustration clear as he glanced between the video and the still-crying Meesam. Her sounds were desperate now, strained, almost. Her little legs curled up toward her belly, and her face grew even redder with effort.

"I think that's it," Meerab said, her voice rising with a sudden realization. "She's gassy." She looked over at Murtasim, her eyes wide with certainty. It had to be that. Everything about Meesam's cries and the way she was curling up pointed to it.

Murtasim immediately knelt down beside them, his face a picture of concern. "What do we do? How do we help her?"

Meerab quickly googled, her fingers flying over the screen as she searched for solutions, her heart racing as Meesam's cries echoed through the room. There had to be something they could do to ease her discomfort.

Beside her, Murtasim continued rocking their daughter, whispering to her in soothing tones, his voice full of love. "Shh, meri choti shehzaadi, we'll figure it out," he murmured. His hand gently rubbed her tiny back, trying to comfort her as best as he could.

Finally, Meerab found a video that explained how to help with gas.

"Lay her on her back," Meerab instructed softly, her voice steady despite the tension swirling inside her. She watched as Murtasim carefully placed their crying daughter on the bed, her tiny body still wriggling in discomfort. Every cry felt like a dagger to Meerab's heart, the helplessness of not being able to ease Meesam's pain gnawing at her.

Murtasim looked at her, waiting for the next instruction.

"Gently massage her belly in a clockwise motion," Meerab demonstrated with her hand, her fingers moving in a small circle above Meesam's belly, "and occasionally lift her legs like this." She reached down and lifted Meesam's little legs toward her belly, mimicking the movements she'd just watched in the video.

Murtasim nodded, his face focused as he mimicked her actions. His hands were careful, moving gently over their daughter's round belly as he massaged in a slow, clockwise motion. Every so often, he'd pause to lift her legs, pressing them gently toward her tummy in hopes of releasing the trapped gas.

"This should help her pass the gas," Meerab muttered, more to herself than anyone, her heart in her throat as she watched Murtasim work. She wanted to reach out and take over, but she knew he needed to feel like he was helping, too. They were in this together.

Meesam's cries began to soften, though her tiny face was still scrunched in discomfort. Every little whimper that escaped her lips made Meerab's chest tighten. She leaned in closer, her hands resting lightly on the bed beside her daughter, her voice soft and soothing. "Come on, meri Meesam, let it out," she whispered, her words laced with encouragement.

The minutes felt like hours, the room filled only with the soft, rhythmic sounds of Murtasim's gentle massaging and Meesam's occasional whimpers. Meerab's breath caught in her throat as she waited, her heart pounding with the hope that this would work.

And then, finally, after what felt like an eternity, there was a sudden, loud fart that echoed through the quiet of the room. Meerab's eyes widened in surprise, her mouth hanging open for a moment as the sound registered. Murtasim froze beside her, his hands still on Meesam's belly, and then, as if on cue, another even louder fart followed.

For a split second, the room was silent, the tension broken only by the absurdity of the situation. And then, laughter burst from both of them, their relief palpable, filling the room as they looked down at their tiny daughter. "There it is," Murtasim said, his voice bubbling with amusement and relief as he grinned widely. "She just needed to fart."

Meerab wiped at the corners of her eyes, still laughing as she nodded. "And that," she added with a fond smile, "is her 'I am pooping' face." She stared at their daughter's suddenly peaceful expression, the tension in her body melting away now that she'd found relief.

She gently lifted Meesam off the bed, cradling her close to her chest, feeling the warmth of her small body against her own. "You poor thing," she cooed, pressing a tender kiss to the top of Meesam's soft head. "We'll get better at this, I promise."

Meesam, now calm and content, blinked up at her parents with wide, innocent eyes as if nothing at all had happened. Her chubby little cheeks were flushed, but her gaze was peaceful, her tiny fists unclenching as she rested against her mother's chest. She let out a soft coo, her lips forming a little 'O' as she made the familiar sound they had come to love. "Goo-ooo," she murmured, almost as if to say, "Thank you."

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Murtasim walked into the room, the weight of the long meetings hanging over him, but the second he heard Meerab's excited voice, all the tension started to melt away.

"Come look!" she hissed, her tone urgent but full of joy. He couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips as he saw her standing by the bed, clearly brimming with excitement.

Curiosity piqued, Murtasim crossed the room, his tiredness forgotten as he stood beside her. His eyes followed hers to the bed where Meesam was sprawled out on her tummy. A soft laugh escaped him when he saw why Meerab was so thrilled.

Their little girl was attempting to hold her head up, her tiny body wobbling as she strained to lift her head from the mattress. Her neck muscles were still weak, causing her to faceplant onto the bed every few seconds, only to lift her head again in determination.

"She's trying to do push-ups, it seems," Meerab whispered with a playful grin, her eyes sparkling with joy as she watched their daughter's wobbly attempts.

Murtasim couldn't tear his gaze away from Meesam. "Meri Meesam is in a good mood today," he said, a little louder. He smiled when he saw Meesam's tiny face instinctively turn toward the sound of his voice. The books he had been reading said her hearing was getting sharper now, but that didn't stop the joy that flooded him whenever she reacted to him like that. It reminded him of when she used to kick in Meerab's belly whenever he spoke to her.

But this was better. So much better. Now, she wasn't just listening; she was responding. Meesam gurgled, her little limbs flailing in excitement, her legs kicking out as if she was trying to swim through the mattress.

Meerab giggled, her laugh echoing the sound of Meesam's coos, a combination Murtasim had decided was his favorite sound in the world.

"She's happy because she just got a sponge bath after drooling all over ammi," Meerab said, her voice filled with affectionate amusement as she reached down and scooped their baby girl up from the bed. "My little drool monster," she teased before planting soft, quick kisses all over Meesam's tiny face.

Murtasim's heart swelled as he watched them, Meerab's face lighting up with pure, unfiltered love for their daughter. He couldn't stop himself from chuckling as Meesam gurgled happily in her mother's arms, her drool-covered chin evidence of her developing salivary glands. She looked so pleased with herself, despite the mess.

"Give her to me and go shower," Murtasim suggested, stepping closer with a soft smile as he reached out to take Meesam from her. "Our appointment is soon."

Meerab scrunched her nose at the reminder, her playful reluctance making him grin.

Murtasim leaned in, his forehead gently touching hers in a headbutt, an affectionate gesture that had become one of his favorite ways to tease her. Meerab chuckled, the sound warm and familiar, filling the room with a sense of comfort.

"I wanted to pat your head, but my hands are occupied," he joked, smiling down at Meesam, who wiggled in his arms, blissfully unaware of the playful exchange happening above her.

"Stop being cute when I look like this," Meerab groaned, her hands motioning to her messy hair, the baby spit-up that stained her clothes, and her overall disheveled state. But to Murtasim, she looked as beautiful as ever, even more so. There was something about the way she had embraced motherhood that made him fall for her all over again. She was radiant, even in her chaos.

"I can't help but be cute because you look cute all the time," he teased, watching with satisfaction as she groaned again.

Meerab glanced down at their daughter. "Isn't your abbu so cheesy, Meesam?" she asked, placing a soft kiss on the top of Meesam's head. In response, Meesam gurgled, her little arms waving in the air.

"She agrees," Meerab teased, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

"That was a firm disagreement," Murtasim shot back, raising his eyebrows in mock seriousness. "A coo is agreement."

"Whatever," Meerab laughed, clearly not in the mood to argue. "I'm going to go shower." She stuck her tongue out at him playfully as she turned toward the bathroom.

Murtasim's grin widened. "I told you, don't stick your tongue out at me unless you plan to use it," he quipped, his voice teasing.

She whipped around, eyes wide, and covered his mouth with her hand. "You can't say that in front of her!" she reprimanded him, though the exasperation in her tone was laced with affection.

Murtasim's eyes twinkled mischievously as he kissed her palm before she could pull away, causing her to roll her eyes. She lowered her hand from his face and gave him one last teasing glare.

"Go shower," he laughed, gently nudging her towards the bathroom.

Murtasim waited until the bathroom door clicked shut behind Meerab before gently laying Meesam on the bed beside him. He stretched out on his stomach, propping himself up on his elbows, his forearms sinking into the soft mattress as he gazed down at his daughter. She was utterly fixated on her own tiny hand, chewing it with such determination that he couldn't help but smile. The room was filled with the soft rustling of her little legs kicking and her faint, rhythmic sucking noises.

He often found Meerab laying exactly like this—on her stomach, elbows propped up, looking down at their daughter, occasionally running her fingers through her hair.

"Is your hand yummy, meri Meesam?" Murtasim asked softly, but Meesam paid him no heed, too focused on her mission of chewing her fist as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

With a chuckle, he let his fingers trail down to her tiny tummy, giving her a gentle tickle. Her little body wiggled in response, and he couldn't help but grin at the sight of her squirming beneath his touch.

"Okay, listen," he said, his voice taking on a mock-serious tone as he carefully rolled over and scooped Meesam up. Holding her slightly above him, he brought her face level with his. Her wide, innocent eyes blinked up at him, still with her hand shoved in her mouth. "We're going to go get your first vaccinations today—big word, but it's something to make you stronger." His heart clenched a little as he spoke, the very thought of Meesam feeling any pain making his chest tighten. "Your ammi is totally freaking out about it, even though she won't say anything. I'm freaking out about it, too." He confessed, feeling a weight settle in his stomach at the thought of Meesam's inevitable discomfort.

He sighed, lightly bouncing her in his arms. "I just want you to know that I tried my best to find an alternative but I couldn't. It might hurt a little, but I need you to be meri himmatwali choti shehzaadi. Or else..." He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Your ammi is going to start crying... or worse, I'm going to start crying. And then Shahzain, Saad, and Shahryar will find out and I'll never hear the end of it."

Meesam just blinked at him, entirely unbothered by the gravity of the situation, continuing to gnaw on her hand as if that was the most important task in the world.

"You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?" Murtasim laughed softly.

Her damp fist slipped from her mouth and smacked his cheek with an accidental wet slap.

He grinned, shaking his head at her, "Oh, so that's what you think of my pep talk, huh? Smacking me with your saliva-covered hand?"

She just cooed as if saying I didn't do anything.

"Maybe after you get the shots, we can play in your nursery," he mused, rocking her slightly. "Your ammi said something about a mirror and a playmobile earlier." He paused, his brow furrowing in mock guilt. "Don't tell her, but I was half-asleep and didn't catch everything."

Meesam smacked his cheek again with her wet hand, her little fingers splaying against his skin.

"I'm going to assume you're angry at me for not paying attention," he teased, raising an eyebrow as if expecting a response.

At this, Meesam let out a tiny gurgle, her version of a baby laugh, and Murtasim's chest flooded with warmth.

"Okay, okay, I got it," he said, his voice filled with amusement as he nuzzled her tiny nose with his own. "Pay more attention to what your ammi says first thing in the morning, noted."

Meesam continued to coo, her legs kicking out excitedly as if she understood every word he was saying. Murtasim decided to indulge her, mimicking her little sounds back to her. "Goo," he cooed, smiling as her eyes brightened at the familiar noise.

Her response was instant—another string of happy coos, her little legs and arms flailing as if she was trying to communicate something. And so, for the next fifteen minutes, Murtasim copied every sound she made, their playful back-and-forth filling the room with soft, sweet noises.

Each time she cooed, he mimicked her, and each time he cooed back, her limbs moved even faster, her hands reaching out as if trying to grab hold of his voice. The pure joy of this simple game made Murtasim's heart soar.

Murtasim's smile widened as he heard the familiar sound of his wife's voice. "Have you figured out the secret language?" Meerab asked, stepping into the room, her presence immediately filling the space with warmth. He glanced up at her, steam billowing from the bathroom door behind her, a soft cloud of vanilla scenting the air. It was a comforting smell, one that he had grown to love.

Clad only in a towel, her damp hair cascading over her shoulders, droplets of water sliding down her skin, Murtasim felt his breath catch in his throat. He leaned back slightly on the bed, one eyebrow quirking up playfully as he took in the sight before him.

"I am suddenly too distracted to answer that question," he teased, his voice dropping as his eyes roamed her form, slowly trailing up from her bare legs, pausing at the towel that hugged her curves, before settling on her face.

Meerab rolled her eyes, the smallest hint of a smile tugging at her lips as she turned away and walked into the closet, her hips swaying just enough to keep his attention. "Focus, Murtasim," she called out from behind the door, clearly amused.

He sighed dramatically, as if putting on a show, but he couldn't wipe the grin off his face. His eyes shifted back to Meesam, who was still on the bed, completely oblivious to her parents. She was happily chewing on her hand, her chubby legs kicking out, her eyes blinking up at the ceiling as if it held the answers to the world. Murtasim returned to their little cooing game, making the same sounds she was, watching her tiny mouth form "goo" sounds, loving how her eyes lit up each time he mimicked her.

Moments later, he heard footsteps again, and when Murtasim looked up, he felt his breath leave him. Meerab emerged, now dressed in an emerald green suit that seemed to shimmer as it caught the light. The deep green contrasted beautifully with her complexion, her damp hair now loosely falling over her shoulders. She was stunning—there was no other word for it.

"Let's get her changed quickly and head over," Meerab said as she walked to the bed.

He sighed, feigning exhaustion. "You're too pretty," he muttered, running his fingers through his hair, pretending as if her beauty had drained him of all his strength. He gently placed Meesam back on the bed, ready to follow Meerab's suggestion to get her changed.

Before Meerab could even take a step closer, Murtasim reached out, grabbed her hand, and pulled her down on top of him. Meerab let out a surprised squeal as she tumbled onto the bed, her emerald dupatta fluttering as she landed against his chest. In one swift move, he rolled them over, making sure to move in the opposite direction of where Meesam was still chewing on her hand.

"Murtasim!" she gasped, swatting at him in half-hearted protest as he pinned her beneath him, her wide eyes filled with surprise.

"Meerab," he teased, leaning in closer, his weight balanced carefully so he wouldn't crush her. His face hovered just inches above hers, his breath mingling with hers as he stared down at her.

She gave him another firm whack on the shoulder, a mix of exasperation and amusement coloring her expression. "Stop it!" she whined, her lips forming a pout, but the glint in her eyes told him she wasn't actually mad.

Murtasim only grinned, undeterred by her half-hearted protest. He leaned in slowly, capturing her lips in a deep kiss before she could protest again. His mouth moved over hers with passion, swallowing her small sounds of surprise. His beard brushed against her soft skin as he kissed her deeply, his hand sliding up to cup the side of her face. Her lips parted beneath his, and for a moment, the world outside disappeared—there was only the warmth of her mouth, the taste of her, and the soft sighs she let out as she melted against him.

She kissed him back, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as she let herself get lost in the kiss for a few moments. But just as quickly, she pulled back, her head turning to the side to check on their daughter.

"Not in front of her!" Meerab protested, her voice a little breathless from the kiss. She whacked him again, but this time with more affection than annoyance.

Murtasim let out a dramatic groan, rubbing the spot where she had smacked him, but he couldn't help the mischievous smile tugging at his lips. "She's going to see it at some point," he said with a shrug, knowing full well he was pushing her buttons.

Another loud whack landed on his arm, and he groaned even louder. "Ouch! That one actually hurt!" he whined, though his grin never faltered.

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The pediatric clinic was a stark contrast to the quiet calm of the gynecologist's office they had visited so many times before. Here, the air buzzed with the cries of babies and the chatter of toddlers. The hum of it all made Murtasim sit on edge, his hands resting tensely on his knees. He glanced nervously around the waiting room, his foot tapping the ground as if it might help release some of the nervous energy building up inside him.

Beside him, Meerab held little Meesam securely in her arms. The baby was calm, blissfully unaware of the tension radiating from her father. She nuzzled against her mother's chest, her tiny hand wrapped around one of Meerab's fingers, her eyes occasionally fluttering open but mostly staying contently closed.

"She'll be fine, Murtasim," Meerab's soft voice broke through his cloud of worry. She placed her hand gently on his thigh, giving it a comforting squeeze. "You need to relax. If you're tense, she'll pick up on it, and it'll make things worse."

He took a deep breath, trying to let her words sink in, but the protective instinct that came with fatherhood made it hard to fully let go of his anxiety. His eyes flickered down to Meesam. She looked so peaceful, so small and trusting. The thought of her feeling any pain—even something as necessary as a vaccination—made his chest tighten.

Just then, the nurse called out, "Meesam Khan?" The sound of his daughter's name made Murtasim's heart skip a beat. He stood up so quickly that his chair almost tipped backward. Meerab stood more calmly, adjusting Meesam in her arms with the ease of a practiced mother. She looked up at him with an amused smile, clearly entertained by his overprotective antics.

"Come on, let's get this over with," she whispered softly, leading the way toward the examination room. Murtasim followed closely, his eyes never leaving Meesam for even a second.

Inside, the room was bright and warm, filled with colorful posters and toys meant to distract little ones from the reality of medical checkups. Dr. Zubiya Khalil, their pediatrician, greeted them with a friendly smile. "She's looking so much bigger already!" she exclaimed, her voice full of warmth as she caught sight of the baby.

Meerab returned the smile, the pride in her eyes unmistakable. "She eats really well, always on schedule," she laughed, shifting her hold on Meesam as they approached the examination table.

Dr. Khalil chuckled. "That's a great sign. Let's go ahead and get her down on the table so we can do some checks."

Murtasim watched as Meerab gently laid their daughter down on the soft, padded surface of the examination table, she immediately started fussing. Meerab's hands lingered for a moment, her lips brushing against Meesam's forehead as she whispered soothingly, "Shh, it's okay, meri Meesam." The tenderness in her voice and the care in her touch made Murtasim's heart swell. She was such a natural, even though Meesam had been their first.

As he leaned over, pressing a kiss to Meesam's chubby cheek, their baby responded with a delighted coo and what looked like a tiny, toothless smile. Her little legs kicked the air in excitement.

Dr. Khalil smiled at the sight. "She's definitely giving social smiles and cooing as she should be—how adorable."

Murtasim couldn't help but laugh softly, pride swelling in his chest as he watched his little girl.

Dr. Khalil got to work, starting with the basic checks. "Let's start with her growth measurements, shall we?" She began by gently stretching out Meesam's tiny body to measure her length. Meesam squirmed a little but remained relatively calm. "She's growing beautifully," Dr. Khalil remarked, jotting down the measurements on her chart. "Next, we'll check her weight."

Murtasim held his breath as Dr. Khalil placed Meesam on the scale. Meesam wriggled for a moment, her eyes widening as she took in her new surroundings, but she didn't cry or fuss. His hand hovered near her, ready to comfort her if needed, but she remained calm, her gaze drifting to the bright ceiling lights.

"She's gaining weight perfectly, right on target," Dr. Khalil said with a pleased smile. "And now, we'll check her head circumference."

As Dr. Khalil wrapped the soft measuring tape around Meesam's head, Murtasim's nerves began to settle. Everything was going smoothly so far, but that lingering worry about the upcoming vaccinations still gnawed at the back of his mind.

"Her head circumference is exactly where it should be," Dr. Khalil continued, noting the measurement and comparing it with her growth chart. "All her growth indicators are right on track."

Murtasim let out a small sigh of relief, feeling some of the tension ease from his shoulders. He exchanged a quick glance with Meerab, who gave him a reassuring smile as if to say, See? She's perfect.

Dr. Khalil moved on to the physical examination, checking Meesam's abdomen, listening to her heart and lungs. "Her heart and lungs sound perfect," she said, turning her attention back to Meerab. "How's her feeding going? Is she breastfeeding or formula-fed?"

"Breastfeeding," Meerab answered, her hand gently resting on Meesam's chest, her fingers lightly brushing against the soft fabric of her onesie. "She feeds well, always on schedule, though sometimes it feels like she's always hungry."

Dr. Khalil smiled knowingly. "That's very common at this stage. They go through growth spurts where they'll feed more frequently. Just keep following her cues; you're doing great."

Next, Dr. Khalil carefully examined Meesam's eyes and ears, checking for clarity of vision and any signs of infection. "Her eyes are tracking movement well, which is a good sign. And her ears look clear," she said, gently brushing Meesam's soft hair back.

After completing the physical exam, Dr. Khalil looked up at Murtasim and Meerab with a gentle, yet serious expression. "Now, we'll move on to the vaccinations."

Murtasim felt his chest tighten as soon as Dr. Khalil mentioned the word "vaccinations." His protective instincts kicked into overdrive. Every fiber of his being rebelled against the idea of Meesam feeling even the slightest pain. His fingers twitched nervously.

Meerab gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, her calm demeanor helping to steady him.

"We'll be giving her the DTaP, Hib, IPV, PCV13, and Rotavirus vaccines today. The first four we combine into just two shots, and the rotavirus vaccine is oral," Dr. Khalil explained calmly as she prepared the syringes.

"That's a little big for a baby, no?" Murtasim blurted, eyes widening slightly as he saw the size of the syringe. His heart pounded in his chest as he moved a bit closer to the examination table, instinctively trying to shield Meesam from what was coming.

Dr. Khalil gave him a reassuring smile. "She will only feel a pinch, much like you would. Only the tip of the needle will pierce the skin, but it needs to be this size so we can grip it properly."

"Still looks too big," he muttered under his breath, not entirely convinced.

Meerab, ever the calming presence, squeezed his hand gently, reminding him to stay calm for Meesam's sake. "Remember, she'll feel your calmness," she whispered, her voice soft but filled with love.

As the doctor positioned the first syringe, Meerab leaned over Meesam, gently cooing to her, while Murtasim stroked her little arm, trying to keep his emotions in check.

His stomach churned at the thought of those needles piercing Meesam's soft, delicate skin.

Dr. Khalil gently pull Meesam's leg out of her onesie, exposing her chubby little thigh. Meesam, unaware of the looming moment, kicked her tiny legs happily, her little feet wriggling in the air.

Murtasim clenched his jaw, his hand tightening around Meerab's as he watched.

"Alright, sweetie, this will be quick," the doctor said said softly, her voice soothing as she positioned the first syringe. She looked up at Murtasim and Meerab. "You can talk to her, keep her distracted."

Murtasim knelt beside the table, bringing his face close to Meesam's. His heart felt heavy, but he forced a smile. "Hi meri Meesam," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Meri choti si himmatwali shehzaadi."

Meerab joined in, her voice full of warmth as she teased, "Aur bhi tha naa, himmatwali, honslewali, kisi se ne darne wali."

Meesam, in her adorable innocence, cooed loudly, her big eyes sparkling as she looked between her parents.

Then, the first injection went in.

Murtasim's heart lurched as he saw Meesam's eyes widen in shock. Her tiny body jerked, and her startled cry echoed through the room. It was a cry unlike anything Murtasim had heard before—sharp, pained, desperate. He reached out instinctively, cradling her head, his fingers trembling slightly as he whispered, "Shh, shh, it's okay, meri Meesam. It's almost over. You're doing so good." His voice cracked just slightly, betraying the strain he was trying to hide.

His stomach twisted. He had never wanted to punch someone as badly as he wanted to in that moment. He knew it wasn't Dr. Khalil's fault, knew the vaccinations were necessary—but seeing his little girl in pain was unbearable.

The second injection came, and with it, a louder cry. Meesam's face flushed a deep red as she screamed, her tiny fists clenching tightly, tears pooling in her wide, panicked eyes. Murtasim felt his chest tighten even further, a physical ache in his heart as he watched her in distress. He wanted to scoop her up, to shield her, to somehow take away her pain and make it his own.

But then, it was over.

Meerab, quick as ever, scooped Meesam up into her arms, holding her close to her chest and rocking her gently. Her lips pressed gentle kisses onto Meesam's head as she whispered soothing words, her voice a balm to the baby's cries. Slowly, Meesam's sobs softened, her tiny body relaxing as she clung to her mother.

Murtasim let out a shaky breath as he watched the two of them, his heart swelling with a mixture of pride, relief, and love. He pressed a hand to his chest, trying to steady himself.

Dr. Khalil smiled warmly as she prepared the oral vaccine. "She did very well," she said gently, her eyes soft with understanding. "You both did, too. She may be a bit fussy tonight, and you might notice some mild fever, but that's perfectly normal. Just keep an eye on her, and give her lots of love."

Murtasim almost laughed when he saw Meesam's reaction to the oral vaccine. The little grimace she made, as if to say, What is this disgusting taste? brought a much-needed moment of levity. Her tiny lips puckered, and she let out a soft "Goo-ooo," as though she were trying to complain about the flavor.

"Thank you, Dr. Khalil," Meerab said.

He looked down at Meesam, who had stopped crying altogether and was now snuggled against Meerab's chest, her cries fading into soft whimpers.

Dr. Khalil smiled, packing up her tools and nodding kindly. "You're welcome. She's a strong little girl, and you're both wonderful parents. I'll see you at her four-month check-up. In the meantime, don't hesitate to call if you have any questions or concerns."

As they made their way out of the clinic, Murtasim took Meesam into his arms, cradling her close. He couldn't help but press a kiss to her soft little head. "Meri choti shehzaadi kitni himmatwali hai, doh bade bade injections easily lag gaye," he whispered, his voice full of admiration for the tiny bundle in his arms.

Meesam cooed softly, curling into his hold, her face nuzzling against his chest as if seeking comfort. Murtasim glanced over at Meerab, who smiled up at him with the same sense of relief and pride. "I think she'll go down after a bottle in the car," he said, his voice calm now. "We have more than enough time to get to your appointment."

Meerab nodded, and together, they walked toward the car—Murtasim holding their brave little girl.

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

Murtasim's grin was absolutely smug as he looked across the table at her, holding Meesam in his arms. "Dr. Abbasi said I'm doing an excellent job taking care of you," he said to Meerab, his voice dripping with self-satisfaction. Meerab couldn't help but roll her eyes but there was a smile tugging at her lips as she took a sip of her lemonade.

Ever since her check-up with Dr. Abbasi, Murtasim had been preening around like a peacock. The doctor had said that Meerab was recovering exceptionally well from childbirth, and Murtasim had latched onto that praise like it was his personal achievement. Not that he hadn't helped—he had been incredibly supportive, more than she could've hoped for—but the way he carried on about it made her laugh.

"All that money had to help," she teased.

Murtasim smirked, not missing a beat. "No, it's because I'm so thoughtful," he declared confidently, leaning over to whisper to Meesam in a sing-song voice, "Haina, meri choti shehzaadi?" Meesam's tiny head wobbled as she looked around at the loud, bustling restaurant, her bright eyes following the sounds and movement around her. Her little mouth opened and closed as if she were trying to respond.

Meerab snorted, biting into one of the momos they had ordered. The explosion of flavor danced on her tongue, and she couldn't help but do a little wiggle in her seat, her eyes closing as she enjoyed the food. Murtasim, ever the observer, snickered at her reaction.

"There you go, dancing in your seat again," he teased, his eyes twinkling as he watched her sip on her lemonade. "Look at your ammi, Meesam. She gets excited over food like that," he said playfully, turning their daughter to face Meerab.

Meesam's response was instant—her little face lit up in a wide, toothless smile, and she cooed happily at the sight of her mother. That coo, that innocent little sound, it melted Meerab's heart instantly. Every time Meesam smiled, it was like the whole world stopped spinning for just a second.

"She's so cuteeeeeee," Meerab whined dramatically, setting her lemonade down and leaning over the table to get closer to her daughter. "I want to eat her!" she declared with a playful pout, her eyes crinkling in affection as she reached out to pinch Meesam's tiny cheeks.

Murtasim gasped in mock horror, pulling Meesam closer to his chest as if shielding her from the threat. "No eating shehzaadis!" he exclaimed, his eyes wide in exaggerated alarm.

Meerab chuckled, shaking her head at his antics. "Your abbu is silly, isn't he?" she cooed at her baby.

In response, Meesam let out a string of babbles, her little mouth forming a perfect 'O' as she tried to mimic her mother's voice. "Ah-bah, goo-goo, ooo," she gurgled, her hands flailing around excitedly as if she was trying to join in on the conversation.

Murtasim grinned, clearly pleased. "I was thinking..."

Meerab raised an eyebrow at him, pausing halfway to her mouth. "That's never a good sign," she teased, already knowing that whatever was coming next was bound to be equally ridiculous and sweet.

Murtasim sighed dramatically, shaking his head. "Your ammi is so mean to me," he said, his tone exaggerated and playful. He gently bounced Meesam in his arms, her little body swaying with the movement, making her gurgle and coo in delight. "I told you she was like this when you were growing inside her, now you can see it with your own two pretty eyes," he continued, shaking his head as if he were imparting some great wisdom onto his daughter.

Meesam, in her innocent joy, responded with another set of babbles, her little voice filling the space between them. "Ahh-bah! Goo-ooo! Ah!" she squealed, kicking her legs out, her little fists clenching and unclenching in excitement.

"What were you thinking?" Meerab asked, finally giving in.

"I don't want to tell you anymore," Murtasim said.

"Murtasimmmmm," Meerab whined, dragging out his name as she dipped one of the momos into his favorite sauce, her chopsticks holding the little dumpling delicately.

She held it up to his mouth, and without hesitation, he leaned in and took the whole thing into his mouth in one bite. His cheeks puffed out as he chewed, making her laugh, unable to hold back the giggles that escaped her. The sight of him acting so childishly goofy, especially when he was normally so stoic with everyone else, never failed to amuse her.

As he finished chewing and took a sip of the lemonade, Meesam flailed her tiny arms, trying with all her might to knock over the glass. Her little fingers were always reaching for something these days, more curious and active than ever.

Murtasim carefully placed the glass out of reach and began talking again, "You know... it would be easier for her to say mama and baba than ammi and abbu."

Meerab's eyebrows shot up. She knew where this was going, and she wasn't having any of it. Murtasim's innocent face was much too practiced for her to fall for it. She knew that if they taught her "baba," Meesam was going to say that first. After all, she already babbled endlessly with little "bababababa" sounds every day.

Her eyes narrowed as she glared at him. "I'm onto you," she accused, her voice sharp but playful.

Murtasim gave her his most innocent look, his dark eyes wide as he blinked at her. "What? What did I do?"

"You know exactly what you're doing! She's going to say baba first!" Meerab snapped before popping a momo into her own mouth, chewing furiously as if the dumpling could absorb her frustration.

Murtasim, looking far too pleased with himself, turned to Meesam in his arms. "That, meri choti shehzaadi," he said to their daughter, "is what a cute angry little chipmunk looks like. Look at your mama."

He adjusted Meesam so she could see Meerab's face, which only made their little girl wiggle her arms and legs excitedly in response. Her tiny feet kicked in the air as she squealed with delight. She always got extra animated when her parents bantered, as if she somehow understood it.

Meerab could feel her annoyance melting away, her heart unable to stay mad when her baby looked so joyful. But she wasn't letting Murtasim get away with it that easily. She kicked him gently under the table.

Murtasim gasped theatrically, his eyes wide with mock outrage. "Your mama kicked me!" he exclaimed, moving Meesam down so she could see under the table where their legs were. "Look, Meesam, look what she did!"

"Murtasim, stop!" Meerab laughed, the sound bubbling up uncontrollably as Meesam squealed again, her little mouth forming an 'O' shape in excitement.

In that moment, the whole restaurant around them seemed to disappear, and it was just the three of them, wrapped up in their own little world of playful teasing and tender affection.

Meerab reached out and took Meesam from Murtasim's arms, cradling her close to her chest. She brought her face down, inhaling the sweet baby smell that always brought her so much comfort. She pressed a soft kiss to the top of Meesam's head, her lips lingering against her daughter's warm skin.

"Come back to baba," Murtasim sang playfully, his voice light and musical as he tried to coax their baby back.

Meesam's head whipped around immediately at the sound of his voice, her big eyes wide as she fixated on him. It was clear that Murtasim had already stolen her heart—just as he had stolen Meerab's all those months ago.

But Meerab wasn't about to give up that easily. She held Meesam tighter, rocking her gently. "You better say mama first," she whispered into her daughter's ear, her tone mock-serious. "I gave birth to you. I deserve this."

Murtasim, ever the instigator, leaned back with a smug smile. "She likes me more," he said, the words rolling off his tongue in a sing-song tone that made Meerab's eyebrow twitch.

Without warning, Meerab started to well up, letting a few tears slip down her cheeks. The dramatic effect was immediate. Murtasim's smugness crumbled in an instant, and he panicked, his eyes widening as he leaned forward in alarm.

"After you, of course!" he blurted out, his hands waving frantically as if that would somehow erase what he had just said. "She loves you the most, then me."

Meerab sniffled theatrically, wiping away a tear with the back of her hand as she glanced up at him. "She'll say mama first," she declared, her voice firm.

Murtasim nodded vigorously, clearly desperate to end his wife's (very fake) tears. "I'll practice with her!" he promised, turning back to Meesam with a serious look on his face. "Meesam, that's mama," he said, pointing at Meerab. "And this is Murtasim," he added, pointing at himself.

Meerab's laughter spilled out of her, her chest shaking as she watched him try so hard. She couldn't help it—he was just too much sometimes.

"Seriously, Meerab?" Murtasim groaned, realizing her tears were very fake.

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Author's Note: Sooooooo, what do you think? What was your favourite part? We see less of Meesam for the next chapter, hehehehehehe. OKAY BYE!