Author's Note: Hi y'all! We're switching it up a bit here - there's no Meesam in this chapter but MeeraSim work through things and then...well you know. Hehe. Enjoy!

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Meerab stood in front of the mirror, her eyes scanning her reflection with a sense of quiet disappointment that had become all too familiar since she had gotten pregnant. The room was still, and the only sound was the soft rustling of the curtains as the breeze moved through them. She stared at her body, two months post-birth, feeling as though she didn't quite recognize herself anymore.

Her hands moved over her stomach, where a few faint, silvery stretch marks traced paths across her skin like delicate lines in the sand. They were softer now, less angry and red than they had been after Meesam was born, but still there—just a couple of them, a constant reminder of how her body had changed.

She knew they were normal, that so many women carried these marks, but somehow, that didn't make her feel any better. She tugged at the waistband of her salwar, feeling the tightness around her hips. Her hips were fuller, curvier than before, and no matter how much she tried to convince herself that this was beautiful too, the weight she carried felt heavy in more ways than one.

Her body was softer now, not in the way it had been before. Her curves no longer felt alluring—they just felt...different. She pinched at the skin around her waist, frowning at the way it bunched between her fingers. The weight hadn't come off as quickly as she had hoped, and every time she looked in the mirror, she saw the extra pounds she couldn't seem to lose. It was as if her body had betrayed her, keeping a part of pregnancy that she no longer wanted.

The woman in the mirror felt like a stranger. She had been so proud of her body once—proud of its strength, its beauty, its femininity. But now, all she could see were the changes, the imperfections. Her stomach wasn't as flat as it had been before Meesam. Her thighs were rounder, her breasts fuller in a way that made her feel almost foreign to herself.

With a soft sigh, she let her hands fall to her sides. She wanted to feel proud of her body for what it had done—for carrying and delivering their beautiful daughter. But all she could feel was insecurity, a deep, aching fear that Murtasim no longer saw her the same way.

Did he notice the changes? He had to. The full hips, the softer curves, the marks left behind. She wondered if he still loved her body the way he had before, or if, in the back of his mind, he missed the woman she had been before Meesam. Maybe he didn't even realize it—but she feared he couldn't love this new version of her.

Dr. Abbasi had cleared them for intimacy days ago, she had smiled and reassured them that everything was healing well, that Meerab could return to engaging in sexual activity whenever she felt ready. And Meerab had been sure, for the last two weeks, that she was ready.

But Murtasim hadn't made a move.

He was still loving, still so gentle and affectionate. He cuddled her every night, pulling her close to him as they lay in bed, his arms wrapping around her like she was still the most precious thing in the world. He kissed her all the time—on the forehead, on the cheek, on her lips in the soft, sweet way that made her heart flutter. But there was a distance now, a hesitation that she couldn't ignore.

He didn't touch her the way he used to—the way that made her feel desired, wanted.

He didn't slide his hand up her kameez as he used to, that playful spark in his eyes as he trailed them up to her breasts. He didn't beg her to sneak off to some quiet corner of the house when they had a few moments to themselves, the way he always had before. He didn't sneak into the bathroom while she showered, teasing her with whispered promises. That hunger, that urgency that had existed between them—it wasn't there anymore.

Was it because of her body? Was it because of the way her body had changed? The thought gnawed at her, an ache that settled deep in her chest. She wondered if he was as unsure of her body as she was. Did he not find her desirable anymore? Did he see the stretch marks, the extra weight, and feel... nothing?

Her eyes flicked back to her reflection, and she felt a wave of insecurity wash over her. She felt lost in her body, unable to find the beauty she had once felt so sure of. She wrapped her arms around herself, hugging her body tightly as if that would somehow hide the changes she didn't want to face.

What if this was the reason Murtasim hadn't tried? What if he was waiting, unsure how to tell her that something had changed? What if the way he loved her now—so gentle, so careful—wasn't the same as before? What if it was just because she was the mother of his child now, and not the woman he desired?

The thought made her chest tighten. She closed her eyes, willing the tears to stay away, but the insecurity was too loud, too persistent to ignore.

She missed him. She missed the way he used to look at her like he would devour her if he could. She missed the way his hands used to roam her body, like he couldn't get enough of her. And now, standing in front of the mirror, she couldn't help but wonder if he would ever see her that way again.

She felt like there was a wall between them, and she didn't know how to break it down.

With a shaky breath, Meerab pulled her kameez down, covering her body as if that would make the feelings of inadequacy disappear.

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The house was quiet. Too quiet.

The kind of quiet that made every thought louder, every insecurity impossible to ignore. Maa Begum and Maryam had taken Meesam for the evening, insisting that they needed time with their choti shehzaadi. Normally, Meerab would have welcomed the break, would have enjoyed a few hours to herself. But today, without her daughter's soft cries, without the endless rhythm of feeding, burping, changing—she felt lost.

She had nothing to focus on but the noise inside her own head.

Meerab sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the floor. The curtains fluttered softly with the evening breeze, but even that gentle sound did nothing to calm the storm brewing inside her. It had been there all day, bubbling beneath the surface, threatening to pull her under. She tried to ignore it, tried to push the thoughts away, but it was like holding back the tide. The more she tried to suppress it, the louder the doubts became.

Why hasn't he noticed?

Murtasim had been so normal all day. Smiling, laughing, kissing her on the forehead like everything was fine. He had gone to take care of some work earlier, leaving her behind with a quick kiss to her temple, completely oblivious to the way her heart was slowly unraveling inside her chest.

She hated it. Hated how he didn't seem to see what was happening right in front of him. The way she was falling apart, bit by bit.

Meerab didn't understand herself though.

Just two days ago, everything had seemed perfectly fine. She had felt content, even happy, going through her days as a new mother, balancing the sleepless nights and feedings with Murtasim by her side. But now, suddenly, it was as if a storm had rolled in out of nowhere, leaving her emotions scattered and unrecognizable. She didn't know why the sight of her own reflection had triggered this flood of insecurity or why her mind wouldn't stop spiraling into thoughts that Murtasim no longer desired her.

Everything felt off-kilter—her body, her mind, her heart. One minute she was laughing with her husband, the next she was caught in a whirlwind of doubt and fear. She couldn't make sense of it. It was like her emotions had a mind of their own, shifting and changing without warning, leaving her overwhelmed and out of control. She had thought she was doing okay, adjusting to life after Meesam's birth, but now she wasn't so sure. Everything felt so fragile, and she hated it.

The soft click of the door to their room echoed through the house, snapping her out of her thoughts.

Murtasim was home.

Her stomach twisted painfully, anxiety coiling tighter with every step he took towards their bedroom. The footsteps grew louder, and she tensed. His presence filled the room like it always did—warm, comforting—but tonight, it only made her feel more exposed.

She kept her eyes glued to the floor, refusing to look at him. She could feel his gaze on her, like a weight pressing down on her chest, making it harder to breathe.

"Meerab?"

His voice was soft, gentle, but there was a question in it. Concern. It twisted the knot in her chest even tighter. She kept staring at the floor, willing herself to stay still, to keep everything inside.

"Why are you sitting in the dark, meri jaan?" he asked, the confusion in his voice evident.

Before she could stop him, the lights flicked on, bathing the room in a warm glow that felt too bright, too harsh against the storm inside her. She bit down on her lip, trying to suppress the rising wave of emotion.

She felt the mattress dip a little as he sat down beside her, his hand reaching out to gently touch hers. The warmth of his skin sent a jolt through her, and without thinking, she pulled her hand away.

Murtasim's hand froze mid-air for a moment before it dropped to his side. The air between them grew heavy, thick with unspoken tension. She could almost hear his confusion, feel the weight of the silence pressing down on them.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice careful now, like he was trying not to say the wrong thing. Trying to understand.

Meerab swallowed hard, her throat dry as she forced the words out. "Nothing," she said quietly, her voice too tight, too forced. She didn't trust herself to look at him, didn't trust herself to meet his eyes without everything spilling out all at once. She stared harder at the floor, her vision blurring slightly as the emotions she'd been holding back threatened to break free.

Murtasim let out a soft sigh, his patience evident, though she could hear the frustration creeping in. "It doesn't look like nothing," he said, his tone firmer now. "You've been quiet all day, you just pulled your hand away from me. Talk to me."

So he had noticed.

The realization should have made her feel better, but instead, it made her feel worse. She didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to have to explain what she couldn't even fully understand herself. The fear, the insecurity—it was all tangled up inside her, too messy to put into words.

"I said it's nothing," she repeated, the shakiness in her voice betraying her.

She stood up quickly, needing space, needing air. Her arms wrapped around herself, as if she could hold herself together if she just squeezed tight enough. She turned away from him, her back to him now, but the weight of his gaze still lingered, heavy and suffocating.

Murtasim stood as well, following her like he always did, his concern deepening. "Meri jaan, I know something's bothering you. Tell me what's going on."

"I don't want to talk about it!" she snapped, the words flying out before she could stop them. The sharpness in her voice echoed through the room, cutting through the quiet like a blade. She winced at the sound, at the way her frustration had boiled over, but she didn't back down.

"Meerab," Murtasim sighed.

Meerab's chest tightened as Murtasim's voice softened again. His patience, his concern—normally it would have comforted her, but tonight, it only reminded her of everything she couldn't put into words. Everything that was wrong. Why couldn't he just know? Why did she have to spell it out for him when it felt like her every thought and feeling was spilling out of her in a million invisible ways?

"Meerab..." Murtasim tried again, his tone gentle, coaxing her to open up. But instead of soothing her, it sent her spiraling deeper into frustration.

Her hands began to tremble, and she clenched her fists to steady herself. She knew she was being unreasonable. She knew he couldn't just read her mind, couldn't magically understand the storm inside her without her telling him. But that knowledge didn't stop the wave of frustration rising in her chest.

"I said it's nothing!" she spat, her voice sharper than she intended, the words lashing out before she could stop them. She immediately regretted the way they sounded, the venom in her tone, but she couldn't bring herself to apologize. Her hands were shaking harder now, and she wrapped her arms around herself, as if trying to hold herself together. "Why can't you just leave me alone?"

Murtasim froze, his face tightening for a moment before he took a slow, deep breath. His frustration was beginning to seep through the cracks, but he kept his voice steady, holding on to his calm. "Because I love you, and I can see that something's wrong, meri jaan. Why won't you just talk to me? Did Maa say something? Did someone else? Did I do something?"

His words were careful, deliberate, but the edge in his voice was impossible to miss now.

Meerab's breath hitched in her chest, her lungs constricting as the emotions she'd been pushing down for weeks began to surge, clawing their way up her throat. The words she had avoided—refused to acknowledge—suddenly threatened to spill out all at once. She turned to face him, her eyes burning with a mixture of anger and hurt that she could no longer contain.

"If you really loved me, you would already know what's wrong!" she snapped, her voice trembling, the raw emotion shaking her every word. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms as she fought to keep from completely breaking apart in front of him.

The words hung in the air between them, sharp and jagged, cutting through the tension. Murtasim's eyes widened, his face twisting in confusion as if the ground had been pulled from beneath him. His voice grew louder, a mix of frustration and confusion bleeding into his words. "What are you talking about? How am I supposed to know what's going on if you don't tell me? I'm not a mind reader, Meerab!"

Her chest heaved, her breathing shallow and quick as she tried to steady herself. But the storm inside her was too strong, the emotions swirling too fiercely for her to control. Why didn't he understand? Why couldn't he see what was happening to her? She'd been standing right in front of him for days—no, weeks—feeling more and more invisible, like a shadow of the woman she used to be.

The worst part was how much she needed him to see her, to notice the changes that were eating away at her, and he just... hadn't. The thought made her stomach twist with a mixture of sadness and resentment.

"You don't even try to understand," Meerab said, her voice barely more than a whisper now, bitter and hollow. Her eyes stung with the threat of tears, but she blinked rapidly, refusing to let them fall. She didn't want to cry—not in front of him, not like this. "I'm here," she added, her voice quivering as the weight of everything pressed down on her. "Right here. And you don't even notice."

"Notice what, Meerab?" he demanded, his frustration raw and palpable, pushing him to the edge. "What haven't I noticed?"

His words, the edge in his tone—it only deepened the ache in her chest. How could he not see? The one person she thought knew her better than anyone, and he couldn't even sense how lost she felt. He didn't notice the way she flinched when she caught her reflection in the mirror, the way she hesitated every time she reached out for him in bed, unsure if he still saw her the same way. He didn't notice the way she ached for his touch, his reassurance, for him.

She couldn't stand still anymore. She needed to move, to do something before she crumbled under the weight of her insecurities. She took a step back, ready to retreat, to put more distance between them. But before she could, his hand shot out, warm and firm as it wrapped around her wrist.

In an instant, he was pulling her back to him, his movements swift and sure. Her breath caught as he spun her toward him while he sat on the bed, his strong arms guiding her onto his lap. She landed on him with a soft gasp, her knees instinctively settling on either side of him, straddling his lap.

Her heart raced as his arms held her securely, one of his hands wrapping around both of her wrists, pulling her arms behind her back, locking her in place. His gaze, intense and unwavering, met hers as he spoke again, his voice lower but no less insistent. "What haven't I noticed, Meerab?" His breath was warm against her skin, the heat of his body pressing against hers in a way that left no space between them.

Her heart pounded against her ribcage, her chest brushing against his with every breath. His grip on her wrists was firm but not painful, grounding her in a way that made her feel both trapped and anchored.

"Let me go," she said, her voice taut, frustration bubbling up inside her. She twisted in his lap, trying to wriggle out of his hold, but it was no use—he had always been stronger than her, always able to hold her effortlessly in place.

"No," he said firmly, pulling her tighter against him. His arms were like iron bars around her, unyielding.

"I'm going to knee you," she warned, moving her knee toward his crotch in a desperate attempt to free herself.

He let out a low chuckle, his grip on her never loosening. Before she could even register what was happening, Murtasim moved with swift precision, flipping her onto the bed beneath him. Her back hit the soft mattress, and in an instant, he was above her, his weight pressing down on her, pinning her wrists above her head, his knees bracketing her hips, locking her in place. Her body felt electrified, a strange mix of anger, frustration, and something she didn't want to admit was arousal bubbling to the surface.

"Let's try this again," he said, his voice dropping an octave, sending shivers down her spine. His breath was warm against her face, his closeness overwhelming. She could feel every inch of him pressed against her—his chest, solid and firm, weighing her down in the most intimate way. His scent—bergamot and musk—filled her senses, and despite herself, her stomach fluttered at the sensation of his body on top of hers.

His lips brushed her ear, sending a spark of heat through her, before he pulled back just enough to look into her eyes. "What haven't I noticed, Meerab?"

She turned her head to the side, refusing to meet his gaze. "Let me go," she demanded, her voice weaker than before, her body betraying her as she squirmed beneath him, trying to ignore the warmth pooling in her stomach.

He chuckled again, the sound deep and rich. "Not a chance, not until you tell me what's wrong."

His breath ghosted over her skin as he nuzzled her ear, his nose brushing against her cheek before he pulled back again, his eyes narrowing in on her with a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. That infuriating, confident smirk that made her both want to slap him and kiss him senseless.

She huffed in frustration, her chest rising and falling with the force of her emotions.

He smirked wider. "Tell me what's wrong, meri jaan."

She hated that smirk. Hated it because it meant he thought he had her figured out, that he had control over the situation. And she hated it even more when he called her meri jaan—the term of endearment that always melted her resolve, even when she didn't want it to.

"You haven't noticed me, Murtasim! You haven't touched me, you haven't wanted me—not the way you used to." The words tumbled out of her in a rush, her voice breathless and fast, before she could stop herself.

Murtasim froze, his eyes widening in shock as her words sank in. For a moment, he just stared at her, stunned into silence. "What are you talking about?" he asked, his voice softer now, but still laced with confusion.

Meerab let out a shaky breath, her heart hammering in her chest. Her hands trembled as she finally let the truth spill out, the weight of it too heavy to hold inside any longer. "You hold me, you kiss me, but you don't... you don't want me like before. You don't sneak up on me, you don't touch me the way you used to, like you couldn't get enough of me. And it's because of how I look now, isn't it?" Her voice cracked. "Because I'm not the same anymore. Because I'm not... me anymore."

His face softened in an instant, his eyes filling with understanding and guilt as realization dawned on him. He shook his head, immediately leaning down to kiss her, but she turned her face to the side, refusing to meet his lips. Tears finally spilled from her eyes, hot and unrelenting, rolling down her cheeks. "You don't want me anymore," she whispered, the words breaking her heart as they left her mouth.

Murtasim's grip on her wrists tightened for a moment before he shifted, freeing one hand to cup her face, gently forcing her to look at him. "Look at me," he said softly, his voice filled with urgency.

But she didn't. She kept her gaze fixed stubbornly to the side, refusing to let him see the full depth of her pain.

He moved his hand, pinning both of hers above her head with just one, his other hand coming down to cup her cheek. He gently turned her face toward him, his thumb brushing away the tears that continued to fall. "Meri jaan, that's not it," he whispered, his voice full of sincerity.

"Then why haven't you tried?" she interrupted, her voice rising in frustration again. The floodgates were open now, and she couldn't stop the words from pouring out. "Dr. Abbasi cleared us more than a week ago, and I've been ready for longer, but you haven't made a move. You haven't even tried, Murtasim! You used to be all over me, and now it's like you don't even see me!"

The words left her feeling raw, her voice a choked mix of anger, sadness, and vulnerability. Her body trembled beneath him, the weight of everything she had been holding in finally crashing over her like a wave. She felt naked, not in the physical sense, but in the way her soul felt bare, her heart on display for him to see all her doubts and fears.

Murtasim's expression shifted. The confusion was still there, but his eyes softened with a mix of regret and realization. "Meerab," he said softly, his voice filled with emotion, a hint of guilt lacing his words. "I didn't know. I swear, I didn't know you felt this way. I thought I was giving you space. I thought you needed time to heal, and I didn't want to push you."

She shook her head, the tears coming faster now, her throat tight with emotion. "I don't need space," she whispered, her voice cracking with the weight of her confession. "I need you."

Her words hung in the air, her voice barely above a whisper, but the impact was undeniable. His grip on her tightened, the regret in his eyes deepening. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I thought I was doing the right thing by waiting, by not pushing you. But I should've asked. I should've known."

Meerab let out a shaky breath, her body slowly giving up the fight as exhaustion from the weight of her emotions settled into her bones. She stopped struggling beneath him, her arms limp in his hold, her breathing heavy. "It's okay," she whispered, her voice barely audible now. "It's not your fault, I guess... I'm just not the same anymore and—"

"Shut up," Murtasim interrupted, his voice a low growl, sending a jolt through her. His eyes were dark, filled with intensity, and the weight of his body pressed down on hers, grounding her. It wasn't enough to hurt, but it was enough to remind her of his strength, his presence, and how close he was.

Meerab's breath caught in her throat, her tear-filled eyes blinking up at him in surprise. "What?" she whispered, caught off guard by the raw intensity in his voice.

"You think I don't want you?" His voice was deeper, rougher now, his eyes burning into hers with a fire she hadn't seen in weeks. "You think I could ever stop wanting you?"

She opened her mouth to respond, but the words died on her lips as he leaned closer, his breath hot against her ear, sending shivers down her spine. Every nerve in her body was suddenly on edge, hypersensitive to his proximity. "You're still my Meerab," he whispered, his voice a husky promise that wrapped around her like a warm blanket. "The woman I can't stop thinking about. The one I love more than anything in this world."

Her body went still beneath him, her pulse pounding in her ears. She wanted so badly to believe him, to let the warmth of his words melt away the icy doubt that had settled in her chest. But the insecurity, the fear, was still there, lingering just below the surface, gnawing at her. It wouldn't let her fully accept what he was saying.

"You don't have to say that," she whispered, her voice weak, laced with disbelief. She turned her face to the side again, fighting to keep the tears from falling. "You don't have to pretend and - "

Murtasim's breath was hot against her skin as his lips brushed the shell of her ear, sending another shiver down her spine. His voice dropped lower, rougher, vibrating against her. "Pretend? Meerab, I've jacked off in the shower more times than I can count because I couldn't touch you. You have no idea just how much I want you, how much I always want you."

Her heart stuttered, her mind reeling from the blunt honesty of his words. A warmth spread through her chest, despite the tears still clinging to her lashes, but she couldn't help the small, disbelieving laugh that escaped her. "Liar," she whispered, a hint of skepticism still lingering in her tone.

He shifted then, pressing his body closer to hers, his hips rolling forward ever so slightly, and the unmistakable hardness of him brushed against her thigh. Her breath caught, a soft gasp escaping her lips before she could stop it, her body betraying her as heat flooded her veins. Her eyes fluttered closed for a brief moment, unable to fight the rush of desire that coursed through her.

Murtasim's lips curved into a slow, knowing smile as he watched her reaction. His voice was rough, teasing, as he pressed himself against her again, making it impossible for her to deny what she felt. "Liar, huh?" he murmured, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of her neck. "Does this feel like I don't want you?"

Meerab's breath came in short, quick bursts, her body alive with sensation. She bit her lip, her pulse racing beneath her skin as his hand slid down to her waist, his fingers curling possessively around the soft skin there. He kissed her neck, the warmth of his breath mingling with her skin, and she couldn't stop the soft moan that escaped her lips

"You're still the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, Meerab," he whispered, his voice filled with reverence as his lips traveled to the curve of her shoulder. "Every part of you."

His words were like a balm to her aching heart, softening the insecurities that had been eating away at her.

His hand slipped beneath her kameez, fingertips grazing the delicate stretch marks that trailed faintly across her belly—marks left behind by the life they had created together. For a brief moment, her insecurities flared up again, a sharp pang of self-doubt. But the way his touch lingered there, gentle and reverent, almost worshipful, quieted the voice inside her head. He wasn't just touching her body; he was touching the parts of her that had changed, that had stretched and softened to carry their daughter, and he was treating them like something precious.

"I know your body's gone through a lot," he murmured, his lips brushing the edge of her jaw. His breath was hot against her skin, making her body tremble under his touch. "I know how hard being a mother is. I didn't want to overwhelm you, to make it seem like I didn't understand how tiring all of this has been for you."

His words cut through the fog of insecurity she had been living in, each one a lifeline pulling her closer to him. Her breath hitched again, the lump in her throat growing, but for a different reason now.

"I didn't want you to think I was burdening you with my needs," Murtasim continued, his voice thick with emotion as he pressed his forehead against hers. "But the last thing—the last thing—that could ever happen is me not wanting you. Do you hear me? I always want you...I always have."

Meerab's body trembled beneath him, her heart swelling at his confession. The knot of doubt that had been tightening in her chest for weeks slowly began to unravel. He wasn't pushing her away because he didn't want her—he was trying to give her space, trying to be gentle. She had been so lost in her own feelings of inadequacy that she hadn't seen it.

He moved his hand up her waist, brushing over her ribs in a touch that was both possessive and tender. "Every curve, every mark, every soft part of you—it's all perfect to me. It always will be."

A soft sob escaped her throat. Her chest tightened as the relief and the love in his words hit her. She had been wrong. So wrong. "I thought... I thought you didn't want me anymore," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I don't feel like myself. Like the Meerab I was."

Murtasim shook his head, his eyes filled with nothing but love as he cradled the back of her neck, his lips brushing hers so softly it felt like a promise. "You are always the woman I love. The woman I want. Nothing could ever change that."

Her breath shook as she let out a small, defeated sound. She wanted to believe him—she did—but the self-doubt still lingered. "But..." she began, her voice wavering.

He silenced her with a firm shake of his head. "I know your body has changed. I see it—how could I not? But I want to learn every inch of it again. And every time you change, it'll be the same. You carried our choti shehzaadi, gave life to her. How could I not love that?"

The warmth of his words melted the last of her defenses. His voice, his touch—it was everything she needed to hear, everything she hadn't realized she was waiting for.

Murtasim leaned back slightly, his lips curving into a playful grin as he brushed a stray strand of hair from her face. "You know," he began, his tone lighter now, teasing. "My abs have practically disappeared, and my body fat percentage? Nowhere close to what it was before."

Meerab blinked up at him, momentarily caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm serious," he continued, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I've been skipping workouts because of all the late nights with Meesam, and let's not even talk about how much food I've been eating. Do you want me any less?"

She frowned at him, still caught in the emotional whirlwind of their earlier conversation. "Of course not."

He raised an eyebrow, his grin widening as if he had just made his point. "Are you sure?" he asked, leaning in closer, his voice playful and teasing. "I mean, really sure? I'm not the same sculpted man I was a few months ago."

Meerab let out a soft, incredulous laugh, shaking her head. "Murtasim, stop."

"See?" he said, satisfaction clear in his voice. "That's how it works. You don't love me any less, and I don't love you any less. No matter what changes."

She rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. She wanted to be mad at him for turning the conversation like this, but she couldn't. He was right, of course. "Murtasim..."

He hummed softly, tilting his head as if waiting for her next words, his eyes still full of affection and warmth.

"Shut up and kiss me," Meerab finally said, her voice soft, laced with affection but heavy with desire that had been simmering under the surface for too long.

The air between them shifted instantly. It was thicker now, charged with something electric as Murtasim leaned down and captured her lips with his. This kiss felt different, like a dam breaking. Tenderness still lingered, but something deeper—something raw and fierce—had slipped between them, a passion that had been missing for weeks. Meerab could feel it in the way his lips pressed against hers, the heat of his body radiating as he hovered over her, sending shivers racing down her spine.

It wasn't just soft or sweet anymore. It was hungry, deliberate, filled with the kind of need that couldn't be ignored. His mouth moved against hers with a purpose. That familiar heat flooded her veins, the intensity of their connection snapping back into place like it had never left. She could feel the pulse of it in every part of her, as if their bodies were rediscovering each other after too long apart.

Murtasim's hand, still pinning her wrists above her head, held her firmly in place. The weight of him pressing down on her was intoxicating, sending a delicious wave of awareness through her body. It reminded her of the power he held over her, the way her body responded to him so easily, so instinctively.

Her breath hitched as his mouth left hers, trailing down to her jaw and then lower still, grazing the sensitive skin of her neck. His breath was hot against her skin, the sensation making her pulse race combined with the feel of his beard against her skin. Her body arched toward him, seeking more, and his grip on her wrists tightened just slightly, a subtle reminder that he was in control, that she was his.

A soft gasp escaped her as he nipped at her collarbone, his teeth grazing her skin just enough to make her body writhe beneath him. "Murtasim..." she breathed, her voice barely a whisper, but he didn't stop. His kisses grew more insistent, more urgent, as if he was trying to make up for all the time they had lost, all the time they had spent apart.

Her heart pounded in her chest, her skin flushed with heat as she felt him move against her, his body hard and demanding as he kissed her again. This time, his lips were firmer, his tongue slipping past her lips in a way that made her knees go weak, even though she was lying down. She kissed him back, her body moving in sync with his as the world outside the room faded away, leaving just the two of them, tangled in this moment.

It wasn't just a kiss. It was everything they hadn't said, everything they hadn't touched, everything they hadn't allowed themselves to feel. Every inch of her skin seemed to come alive under his touch, her senses heightened as the connection between them reignited. For the first time in what felt like forever, she felt wanted. Needed.

The kiss deepened, and she moaned softly against his lips, her body surrendering completely to the moment. He pulled back just slightly, his forehead pressed against hers, her wrists still pinned by one of his hands, their breaths mingling in the heated space between them. His voice, rough with emotion and desire, rumbled through the silence. "I'll always want you. Every part of you. You're mine."

Her heart swelled at his words. She smiled up at him, wanting to cup his face but her hands still trapped beneath his. "I know," she whispered, her voice soft but full of certainty.

With that, Murtasim kissed her again, pulling her back into the heat of him. His mouth moved over hers with a renewed urgency, and she gave herself to it, to him, to the overwhelming need that throbbed between them.

A playful grin tugged at his lips as he kissed her neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down her throat. "No one is going to come knocking with our choti shehzaadi, are they?" he murmured against her skin, his lips grazing her collarbone as his other hand began to roam over her body, more insistent now.

She shook her head, her voice breathless. "She's sleeping there tonight."

Murtasim hummed, satisfied, and his hands moved with increasing urgency, his fingers tracing the lines of her body as if memorizing every curve. Their mouths collided again in a frenzy of need, a kiss so deep it left her breathless. His tongue tangled with hers, and her hands—now free—moved to curl into his hair, tugging him closer, urging him on. Her body arched beneath him, desperate for more of him, for everything he had to give.

Suddenly, he pulled back, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he looked down at her. His lips were swollen from their kisses, his eyes dark and filled with unspoken need. Without a word, he let her hands go and got up on his knees, the movement quick but deliberate. She watched him, anticipation thrumming through her veins as he reached for the hem of his shirt.

In one swift motion, Murtasim pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it aside before turning his attention back to her. His chest, strong and muscled, gleamed in the low light of the room, and her breath hitched at the sight of him. Her body responded to him instantly, the ache between her legs growing more insistent.

She bit her lip, her gaze roaming over his body.

Murtasim's gaze softened as his hands moved to the hem of her kameez, fingers trembling slightly as they caught the delicate fabric between them. His voice, rough yet gentle, cut through the heated air between them. "Can I?" he asked, eyes searching hers for permission.

Meerab's heart pounded in her chest, her entire body alight with anticipation. She nodded, her breath catching as she raised her arms, letting him peel the fabric away from her skin. The cool air hit her bare skin immediately, causing a soft shiver to roll through her. But it wasn't the chill that made her tremble—it was the way his eyes darkened, how they lingered on her, taking in the sight of her as if seeing her for the first time. His gaze traced the curve of her breasts, still covered by the delicate fabric of her nursing bra, the intensity in his expression making her pulse race.

Slowly, he leaned back over her, his lips brushing a soft kiss against her shoulder. The gentle contact sent warmth flooding through her, and when he trailed those same lips up the column of her neck, she couldn't help the small gasp that escaped her. Her body arched toward him instinctively, craving more of his touch.

"Can I take this off too?" His voice was low, thick with desire, but there was still that underlying gentleness, as his fingers ghosted over the strap of her bra, barely touching her but sending a wave of heat through her nonetheless.

Her breath hitched again, the anticipation coiling tight in her stomach, her skin tingling under his careful touch. She nodded, her voice barely a whisper as she said, "Yes."

With that, he unclasped her bra slowly, the straps slipping down her arms as he pulled it away from her. His eyes never left hers, the moment stretching between them, his gaze filled with a raw hunger but also something deeper—reverence. He tossed the bra aside, but for a moment, he just looked at her, as if he was trying to memorize every inch of her, his expression a mix of awe and desire.

"You're perfect," he whispered, almost to himself, but the words landed in her heart, making it swell.

His hands returned to her body, gentle but possessive, cupping her breasts with care. His thumbs brushed over her nipples, teasing them lightly, and the touch made her let out a low moan. Her back arched off the bed, her body already so sensitive under his hands, every nerve ending alight.

Murtasim's lips found hers again, the kiss softer this time, but still carrying that edge of hunger, of barely contained need. His fingers continued to circle her nipples, teasing and coaxing a steady rhythm of pleasure out of her as his mouth moved against hers.

He pulled back just slightly, his forehead pressing against hers as he looked down at her, his voice thick with restraint. "Okay?"

Meerab groaned, the sound slipping out louder than she expected, the sensation overwhelming in a way that made her feel like she was on the edge of losing control. "Just... a little sensitive," she whispered, her voice shaky, her body trembling beneath him as her breath came out in ragged pants.

His lips curved into a small, knowing smile, and his thumb brushed gently over her nipple again, his touch lighter now. "Lighter?" he asked, his voice soft, full of concern and care as his gaze held hers, waiting for her signal.

She nodded, biting her lip as she gripped his arms for support, her body quivering under his touch. "Please."

Immediately, his touch softened, his fingers moving with delicate precision, circling her nipples with just enough pressure to keep her teetering on the edge but not overwhelm her. Every movement felt controlled, as if he was learning her body all over again, attuned to every gasp, every sigh she made. His touch was careful, reverent, and it sent a new wave of warmth through her as her body responded to him.

As he kissed her again, his hands continued their exploration, trailing over the soft curves of her body with reverence. He moved slowly, savoring the feel of her beneath his hands, his lips pressing kisses to the spot between her breasts before moving lower. Each kiss was deliberate, slow, as if he wanted to savor every inch of her.

Murtasim's mouth traveled lower still, his lips leaving a slow trail of heated kisses down the curve of her ribs, lingering over her soft skin. He moved with a patience that made her ache. His lips were soft, but there was a heat behind every touch, a deliberate slowness that only made her crave more. His tongue flicked out between kisses, tasting her skin, leaving a slick, heated path in its wake.

The sensation was intoxicating—his mouth warm and wet against her as he pressed open-mouthed kisses along her stomach, his hands following the path his mouth took. His touch was gentle but firm, his thumbs tracing small circles over her sides, grounding her as he continued his slow exploration.

He kissed her navel, his tongue dipping briefly into the hollow, and she gasped, her fingers clenching the sheets beneath her. The soft pull of his mouth, the way his tongue moved against her skin, made her entire body hum with anticipation.

Murtasim paused just below Meerab's navel, his lips lingering there as he pressed a soft kiss to her skin. When he glanced up, his eyes were heavy, filled with something that made her feel entirely seen. "You're beautiful," he whispered, his voice hoarse with hunger, the words rolling off his tongue like a confession. His breath, warm against her skin, sent a shiver through her, tightening the knot of anticipation in her belly.

Meerab's heart raced, each beat loud and unsteady in her chest. His face pressed into her belly, his nose brushing lightly over her skin as his stubble left a tantalizing contrast to the smoothness of her body. It was rough and soft at the same time, and she couldn't help but arch toward him, craving more of his touch, more of him.

A shaky breath escaped her lips as his mouth moved lower, skimming across her hips with deliberate slowness. He planted soft kisses along the waistband of her bottoms, his lips leaving her skin warm and tingling in their wake.

He looked up at her again, his eyes darker now, the burning desire there unmistakable. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her bottoms, the movement slow, careful. "Can I?" he asked, his voice low and rough, almost a growl.

Meerab nodded, her entire body humming with anticipation, her skin feeling alive under his gaze. She lifted her hips slightly, helping him as he tugged her bottoms down with slow, deliberate motions. Her breath hitched as the cool air met her heated skin, her pulse thundering in her ears as she felt him reveal her inch by inch. He followed immediately with her panties, pulling them off in one fluid movement, and then she was bare before him, every inch of her exposed.

His eyes never left hers as he discarded the last piece of clothing. He didn't rush, didn't move quickly; instead, his hands returned to her body, caressing her thighs with soft, reverent strokes. His fingers traced her skin slowly. With a gentle motion, he hooked her legs over his elbows, sending a jolt of anticipation through her.

Her breath hitched again as he pulled her down the mattress, her hips now positioned perfectly at the edge. Murtasim lowered himself to his knees on the floor, his movements deliberate, and she scrambled up onto her elbows to keep watching him. The sight of him, kneeling there with his face level with her heat, his eyes dark and filled with raw hunger, made her pulse race even harder.

For a moment, he just looked at her, his gaze so intense it made her stomach twist in anticipation. And then, without breaking eye contact, he leaned forward, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. He kissed her slowly, reverently, each kiss sending a shiver of pleasure through her body. His lips were so close to where she needed him, but still, he teased her, taking his time. The ache between her legs grew sharper, more insistent with every kiss, her body humming with need.

Then, he licked his lips and lowered his mouth to her, his tongue making the first tentative, slow stroke along her folds. The sensation was like fire racing through her veins, and she let out a broken moan, her head falling back as her fingers dug into the sheets. His tongue was warm, wet, and deliberate, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her.

Murtasim paused briefly, his tongue still teasing her as his eyes flicked up to hers. "You still like this?" he murmured, his voice husky, vibrating against her skin.

Meerab's body arched toward him, her breath coming in shallow pants. "Yes... ohhhh," she managed to gasp out, her voice breathless and needy.

His lips curved into a small, satisfied smile before he dove back in, his mouth moving with more confidence now, his tongue flicking over her with just the right amount of pressure. He alternated between slow, deep strokes and soft, teasing licks, each one sending her closer to the edge.

He wrapped his lips around her clit, sucking gently before circling it with his tongue, the sensation enough to make her cry out. Her moans grew louder, her hips moving of their own accord, pressing herself closer to his mouth.

Murtasim's hands tightened on her thighs, holding her in place as he devoured her, his mouth unrelenting. And yet, he was still so attuned to her, so careful. He listened to every breathy moan, every shaky sigh, adjusting his pace in response to her.

"You're perfect like this," he murmured between kisses, his lips brushing over her wet heat, his eyes locking onto hers the whole time. "So beautiful."

Meerab struggled to stay up on her elbows, her arms trembling, but she couldn't look away. She needed to see him, needed to watch. The sight of him between her legs, his mouth moving against her with such deliberate, sensual focus, made her pulse race faster. His eyes met hers again, and in that moment, her breath caught in her throat.

He slid his tongue against her harder, his pace deliberate but thorough, each stroke of his tongue bringing her closer to the edge. "Still good?" he whispered, his voice a low rumble as his mouth continued its work.

Her head fell back, her body overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through her, but somehow, she managed to breathe out, "Yes... don't stop..." and force herself to look at him.

Murtasim's eyes flashed with pride and satisfaction, and he didn't stop. He kept his pace steady, his tongue flicking and swirling over her clit, his lips pressing soft kisses against her in between. The tension inside her built steadily, the pleasure becoming all-consuming until all she could focus on was the feel of his mouth on her, the growing pressure deep inside her.

He alternated between fast, teasing flicks of his tongue and slow, deep strokes, keeping her teetering on the edge but never letting her tip over just yet.

His eyes stayed on hers, watching every reaction, making everything between them even more intense. "Still up and down?" he whispered, his breath hot against her skin before he flicked her clit in that perfect up-and-down motion.

Meerab was beyond words now, her entire body trembling, shaking as she gasped out, "Yes... yes..."

His eyes gleamed with satisfaction at her breathless response. He flicked her clit once more, teasing her just enough to make her hips jerk, her body already close to losing control. Then, slowly, he pulled back slightly, his lips and beard glistening, his eyes still locked on hers.

His gaze never left hers.

Murtasim's hand, steady and sure, slid down Meerab's inner thigh, the warmth of his fingers contrasting with the cool air in the room. His touch was light at first, just grazing her skin, before his fingers skimmed over her slick heat, teasing her. The moment he made contact, a sharp intake of breath escaped her lips, her body instinctively reacting to his touch.

Her breath hitched as his fingers circled her entrance, the teasing pressure driving her crazy but never quite pushing inside. She felt the tension building, her hips subtly shifting toward him, silently begging for more.

Murtasim's eyes flicked up to hers, his gaze dark and filled with desire, but there was tenderness, too, his voice soft yet rough with need. "I want to feel you around my fingers," he whispered, his thumb brushing over her clit as his fingers hovered at her entrance. "Is that okay?"

Meerab's chest rose and fell rapidly, her pulse thundering in her ears. She nodded, biting her lip as she looked down at him, her voice breathless and full of need. "Yes... please."

Slowly, carefully, Murtasim pressed one finger inside her, his touch gentle and testing. The initial stretch made her body jolt with pleasure, her core welcoming him as if it had been waiting for this. She let out a soft moan, the sensation of him filling her sending sparks shooting through her veins.

He stilled for a moment, his eyes flicking up to hers again, concern flickering beneath the desire. "Okay?" he asked, his voice low, full of caution despite the hunger in his gaze.

Meerab nodded, her lips parting in a breathy sigh as she whispered, "Yes... it feels good."

Encouraged by her words, Murtasim pushed in deeper, his finger curling slightly inside her as he began to move in slow, deliberate strokes. Each motion made her pulse race, the pleasure building with every thrust of his hand. When he added a second finger, stretching her just a bit more, her gasp was louder, her body instinctively tightening around him, the sensation sending waves of heat through her.

Murtasim paused again, watching her carefully, his thumb circling her clit in slow, gentle strokes that sent shivers down her spine. "Still good?" he asked, his voice thick, his fingers pressing deeper into her.

Her answer was a low, breathy moan, her hips rocking toward him, desperate for more of the delicious friction he was creating. Her hands fisted in the sheets, her body arching as she gasped out, "Yes... so good..."

He grinned at her response, his lips curving into a satisfied smirk as he began to move his fingers again, each stroke precise, his thumb still working in tandem with his fingers to build her pleasure. He groaned softly at the feel of her wetness, the tightness of her around him. "You're so wet," he murmured, his voice thick with awe and desire, the words sending a thrill of excitement through her.

His fingers continued to pump inside her, the rhythm slow and relentless. As he pulled them out slightly, her arousal coated his hand, slick and warm. He used the wetness to coat her, rubbing it along her slit and lips, the slickness making every touch glide effortlessly. His thumb now moved over her clit with a confidence that made her toes curl, sending a fresh wave of pleasure through her.

His free hand gripped her thigh, holding her open as he worked her, his fingers maintaining their steady rhythm inside her. Meerab's breathing grew ragged, her mind foggy with the intensity of the sensations. His mouth returned to her, and the moment his tongue lapped at her again, her body responded instantly, her hips bucking up to meet him. The combination of his fingers inside her and his mouth working her from the outside, lapping up what he had coated her with, was overwhelming, the pleasure blurring together into one heated, delicious haze.

Murtasim buried his face between her legs again, groaning against her skin as he devoured her. The vibrations from his voice sent tremors through her body, making her moan louder, the sound raw and desperate. "Fuck," he muttered against her skin, his breath hot and ragged as his fingers pushed deeper, curling inside her to find the spot that made her legs tremble. "You taste so good... so perfect..."

His lips closed around her clit again, sucking gently, his fingers curling in a way that hit every nerve just right. Meerab's body reacted instinctively, her back arching off the bed, the sensations becoming too much to contain. Her moans grew louder, more frantic as the pressure built inside her, her body trembling with need.

The tension coiled tighter in her belly, threatening to snap at any moment. She couldn't tear her gaze away from him, couldn't stop the way her body trembled beneath him, craving more of the pleasure he was giving her.

"Close?" he asked, his voice muffled against her skin, his fingers still moving inside her, slow and steady, making sure she stayed on that edge of pleasure.

Meerab could barely find her voice, her body overwhelmed by the intensity of it all. "Yes... yes, Murtasimmmm," she gasped, her fingers tangling in his hair as she tried to hold on, her body tight with need.

His pace quickened at her words, his fingers thrusting deeper inside her as he sucked her clit into his mouth again, harder this time. A loud moan escaped her lips, the sound raw and desperate as the tension inside her coiled tighter. He didn't stop, didn't let up for a second, his focus entirely on her pleasure, on making her fall apart beneath him.

The intensity of it built rapidly, crashing over Meerab in wave after wave. Every stroke of his fingers, every flick of his tongue felt like fire racing through her veins. Murtasim's tongue was relentless, working her with the kind of focus that had her hips bucking against his mouth, unable to control her body as every nerve ending came alive. The pressure in her core coiled tighter and tighter, her body thrumming with desperation, the need to let go overwhelming her.

"Murtasim—" she gasped, her voice breaking as her body tensed, the pleasure reaching an unbearable peak. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe. All she could feel was the relentless movement of his mouth and fingers, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest, and her entire body felt like it was on the brink of exploding.

And then it hit her—hard and fast. The orgasm slammed into her like a tidal wave, her body convulsing beneath him as she cried out, her fingers gripping his hair tightly as if he were her lifeline. The pleasure was all-consuming, intense, tearing through her with a force that left her gasping for air. Her muscles clenched around his fingers, her release crashing through her in wave after wave of pure bliss.

"Murtasimmmmm," she breathed, her voice trembling as the aftershocks rippled through her body. Her head fell back against the mattress, her body shaking uncontrollably, her legs trembling around his shoulders as the pleasure slowly began to ebb.

It took her a moment to come down from the high, her breath still ragged, her chest heaving as she tried to steady herself. But as the fog of pleasure began to clear, she felt it—a strange wetness trickling down her chest. At first, she didn't understand what it was, her mind still dazed and heavy from the intensity of her orgasm. But then, realization dawned, and her eyes flew open.

"Oh no!" she muttered, her hand flying to her breasts, feeling the unmistakable wetness of her milk letting down, dripping down her skin in small rivulets. The sensation sent a wave of embarrassment rushing through her.

Murtasim's lips left her slowly. He looked up at her with a lazy, satisfied smile as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, clearly pleased with himself. His gaze flicked down to her chest, noticing the wetness that had begun to spread there, and then he let out a low, amused chuckle.

"Didn't know that was going to happen," he said, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he sat back on his knees.

Meerab's cheeks flushed with heat, a mix of embarrassment and the remnants of her orgasm still coursing through her. But before she could say anything, Murtasim reached over to the bedside, grabbing the soft burping cloth they always kept there. He pressed it gently to her breasts, cleaning up the milk that had spilled, his movements slow and tender. "Guess that's another way to know you've orgasmed," he teased, his tone light and playful.

Without missing a beat, Meerab whacked him playfully on the arm, still breathless from the intensity of it all. "You—!" she started, her voice catching in her throat, but before she could finish, laughter bubbled up inside her, breaking through her embarrassment.

Murtasim's grin only widened as he leaned over her, his lips pressing a soft kiss to hers, the warmth of his mouth grounding her as the remnants of her pleasure still hummed through her body. His fingers rested lightly on her stomach, tracing soft circles there, his touch comforting. "I'll take that as a compliment," he murmured against her lips, the amusement still clear in his voice. "Besides, it's proof I'm good at my job."

"Shut up," she mumbled against his mouth, though the warmth in her voice betrayed her amusement. She kissed him back softly.

Murtasim moved back and stood at the edge of the bed, a teasing smile playing on his lips as his hands moved to the waistband of his pants. With one smooth motion, he unbuttoned them, pushing both his pants and boxers down in a single fluid movement. His cock sprang free, hard and throbbing, and Meerab let out an involuntary moan at the sight. The sound escaped her before she could stop it, her body reacting instinctively to the visual of him, ready and so clearly wanting her.

She hadn't realized how much she missed him. The sight of him, fully exposed and utterly captivating, sent a new wave of desire rushing through her body. Her core tightened in anticipation, her entire body humming with need as her eyes devoured him. It had been too long, and the way he stood there, confident and waiting, stirred something deep within her.

Murtasim chuckled softly, his eyes darkening with amusement as he caught her reaction. "Missed me, huh?" he teased, his voice low and laced with heat as he leaned down, capturing her lips in a slow, heated kiss.

Their mouths collided, and she melted into him, her fingers threading into his hair as his hand cradled the back of her head, pulling her closer. The kiss deepened quickly, tongues tangling as if they couldn't get enough of each other. They kissed until they were both breathless, the air thick with anticipation.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes had softened, but the desire in them remained. His thumb brushed over her swollen bottom lip, lingering there for a moment. "How do you want me, meri jaan?" he asked, his voice husky, desire bleeding through every word but still filled with that tenderness that always made her heart ache.

Meerab sat up in bed, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward her. "Sit," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. She guided him to the headboard, positioning him against the pillows as her eyes locked onto his, heavy with need.

He followed her lead without question, sitting back as she straddled him, her knees resting on either side of his hips. The feel of him beneath her made her pulse quicken. Her hands slid over his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle, the warmth of his skin under her palms, and she bit her lip, savoring the closeness they hadn't shared in so long.

Murtasim reached over to the bedside drawer, pulling out a condom. Meerab blinked, realizing in that moment that she had completely forgotten about it. But he hadn't. He flashed her a small, reassuring smile as he ripped the foil open and expertly rolled the condom onto himself. His fingers brushed his length as he positioned it just right, the sight of him so focused, so ready, sending another rush of heat through her.

Their eyes met again as she lifted herself slightly, her body trembling with both excitement and nerves. Slowly, she lowered herself onto him, feeling the head of his cock press against her slick entrance. The sensation was immediate—familiar but different, a delicious mixture of pleasure and pressure that made her breath catch in her throat. It had been so long, and the stretch of him inside her felt both overwhelming and right, like he belonged there.

Murtasim groaned, his hands gripping her hips as he guided her down onto him, his jaw clenched tightly with the effort to stay in control. His eyes fluttered shut briefly, and when they opened again, they were darker, filled with need that was almost tangible. "Fuck, Meerab..." he breathed, his voice thick and rough.

She began to move, rocking slowly, testing the feel of him inside her, her body adjusting to the stretch. The sensation was overwhelming, her walls gripping him tightly as she moved, each stroke sending sparks of pleasure shooting through her. The pressure built with every movement, her body remembering him, craving more of him.

As she watched him, every flicker of pleasure that crossed his face made her heart swell. She needed to know, needed to hear it from him. "Does it still feel good?" she asked, her voice soft but filled with the need to know she was doing this right, that they still fit together in every way.

His response was immediate. He surged forward, kissing her deeply, his lips urgent against hers as if he couldn't get the words out fast enough. "Of course it does," he murmured between kisses, his breath hot against her mouth. "You feel incredible, meri jaan... like always."

With that, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her even closer as he guided her movements. She sank fully onto him, their bodies fitting together perfectly once more. His hands roamed over her body, caressing her skin, tracing the curve of her back as she rocked against him. Each roll of her hips sent a jolt of pleasure through them both, the sensation of being so completely joined again intoxicating.

The room filled with the sounds of their shared breaths, their moans mingling in the air between them. Murtasim's grip on her hips tightened as he helped her find a rhythm, his fingers digging into her flesh as she rode him. The movement was slow at first, deliberate, each thrust a test of how perfectly they fit together.

Her body moved against his, their skin slick with sweat, the heat between them building with each roll of her hips. His lips were everywhere—on her neck, her collarbone, her jaw—leaving a trail of burning kisses as his body responded to hers, every touch heightening the intensity between them.

"Meerab," he groaned, his voice rough as he nipped at her earlobe, the sound sending a shiver straight through her. "You feel so good."

A soft whimper escaped her lips, her hands clutching his shoulders for support as the pleasure built inside her. Every thrust, every brush of his fingers over her skin heightened the sensations until it felt like she was drowning in him. His hands slid up her body, cupping her breasts, his thumbs grazing over her nipples as he kissed her again, the intensity between them growing with every desperate movement of her hips.

Meerab's breath came in ragged gasps as she rocked against him, her movements growing more urgent with each passing second. The deep, aching need for something more—something harder—pulsed through her, and she couldn't hold back. Her lips brushed his as she whispered against his mouth, her voice desperate. "I need more..."

Without hesitation, he gripped her hips firmly and, in one smooth motion, pushed her back until she was lying flat on the mattress. Her head was near the foot of the bed now, her legs sprawled out.

Without breaking their connection, Murtasim quickly shifted, getting on his knees as he lifted her legs, draping them over his shoulders. The shift in position made her heart race, the anticipation sending a jolt of excitement through her. She barely had time to catch her breath before he thrust into her, hard and deep.

The sensation was immediate—intense, overwhelming. Her back arched off the mattress as he filled her completely, the pressure of him inside her igniting every nerve in her body. "Murtasim!" she cried out, her voice hoarse with pleasure as he set a relentless pace. He didn't hold back now, thrusting into her with the full force of his need. The bed creaked beneath them, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. The intensity of it sent shockwaves through her, her body trembling with each powerful thrust.

Her hands scrambled for purchase, clutching the sheets in a white-knuckled grip as she gasped for air. Every movement, every deep stroke made her feel like she was falling apart, the pleasure building to an unbearable peak. "Ohhhhhh—" she moaned, her voice breaking as she tried to hold on, the heat between them almost too much to bear.

Murtasim groaned above her, his grip on her hips tightening as he pushed her harder into the mattress, lifting her slightly to meet his every thrust. His breath was ragged, his chest heaving as he moved inside her, his body working in perfect sync with hers. "Meerab..." he groaned out her name, his voice rough and thick with desire.

The sensation of him, hard and relentless inside her, was almost too much. Her legs quivered over his shoulders as her body tensed, her orgasm building so fast she could barely keep up with it. Her moans turned to cries, desperate and loud as her hips bucked against him, her entire body shaking with the force of her pleasure.

The sounds between them—the bed creaking, the wet slap of their bodies colliding, the deep groans that tore from Murtasim's throat—pushed her over the edge. Her body clenched tightly around him as she screamed out his name, her orgasm crashing through her like a tidal wave. Her vision blurred, her entire body consumed by the overwhelming pleasure, every muscle trembling as she came hard around him.

And then, just as the pleasure peaked, she felt it—the familiar wetness trailing down her chest again. Her milk had let down, and it dripped over her breasts in warm, unrelenting streams. But this time, she was too far gone to care—too lost in the ecstasy of the moment.

Murtasim's groan grew louder, his thrusts turning erratic as he felt her walls pulse around him. He thrust into her one last time, deep and hard, his cock twitching inside her as he finally let go. "Meerab..." he groaned, his voice low and guttural as his release hit him. His entire body tensed, his hands gripping her hips like a lifeline as he came, his own pleasure spilling out in thick, heated waves inside the condom.

The moment was raw, intense, their bodies locked together in a haze of shared release. The world outside faded away as they collapsed into each other, their chests heaving, their bodies still trembling from the force of it all.

As they both caught their breath, the heat of the moment still lingering between them, Murtasim looked down at Meerab, his eyes softening even as a mischievous grin spread across his face. His gaze flicked to her chest, where the wetness from her milk still glistened, a reminder of the intensity of what they'd just shared.

"Does the amount of milk escaping correlate to the intensity of the orgasm?" he teased, his voice low and playful.

Meerab couldn't help but laugh, breathless and still dazed from the waves of pleasure that had just crashed through her. She swatted him lightly on the arm, a smirk tugging at her lips. "I don't know."

Murtasim raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "We should figure it out," he said, the suggestion full of mischief.

"Shut up," she muttered, though the warmth in her voice betrayed her amusement.

"Are you being moody again?" he asked, his tone teasing as he brushed a thumb across her cheek.

She rolled her eyes, the flush of their passion still warming her skin. "No."

"Liar..." His voice softened, and his teasing gave way to something more tender. "How are you feeling?"

She hummed softly, her eyes fluttering closed as she let the weight of his question settle over her. "Perfect," she breathed.

Murtasim's eyes gleamed with playful intent again, leaning down to whisper in her ear, "So basically, next time you get moody, I should just fuck you again."

"Murtasim?" she said, her voice still breathless but now carrying a hint of warning.

He hummed in acknowledgment, clearly enjoying himself. "Hmm?"

"Shut up," she repeated, a little firmer this time.

Murtasim's grin turned wicked. "So now, when you say shut up, it means fuck me?" he asked, his tone light but full of suggestion.

Meerab's hand immediately flew to his arm, smacking him again.

"Or does that mean fuck me?" he added, eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Murtasimmmmm," she whined, the sound half-frustration, half-laughter.

"Oh, that definitely means f—ow!" He yelped as she whacked him once more, cutting off his sentence with a laugh.

"Shut up."

Murtasim leaned down and kissed her, his lips brushing hers with a tenderness that made her heart swell. His hands slid over her body, possessive but tender, mapping every curve with a reverence that made her skin tingle. He cupped her waist, fingers digging in gently as if to remind her that she was his, that she had always been his.

And then, without warning, Murtasim scooped her up into his arms, lifting her effortlessly off the bed.

"Murtasim!" she yelped, laughing as she was suddenly lifted, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. The abruptness caught her off guard.

"I'm taking you to the shower," he murmured against her ear, his breath hot on her skin, sending a shiver down her spine.

"I'm heavy," she protested, her voice soft but with a hint of embarrassment.

Murtasim let out a deep, rumbling laugh, his chest vibrating against her as he carried her effortlessly toward the bathroom. "Yeah right," he said, his lips brushing her temple in a feather-light kiss. "Still the same."

Meerab felt herself smile at his words, her heart swelling with love for him. She rested her head against his shoulder, allowing herself to be vulnerable in his arms, the safety of his embrace soothing her in ways words never could.

He carried her into the bathroom, he set her down gently letting her use the loo in the water closet. He turned toward the shower, turning it on and adjusting the temperature toward the hotter side—just how she liked it—before discarding the condom in the trash. The sound of the water pouring from the showerhead filled the room as she used to loo.

Murtasim stepped into the shower as she emerged and walked to the sink to wash her hands. She turned to see him holding his hand out toward her. Without hesitation, she walked over and took it, letting him pull her under the stream of water. The heat cascaded over her body, mingling with the warmth of his skin as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close.

The water soaked into her hair, trickling down her back, but all she could focus on was the feel of him, his chest pressed against hers, his hands sliding down her sides with deliberate, slow strokes. His touch was gentle but firm, his fingers tracing her curves with a familiarity that made her body hum with anticipation.

She leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder, her fingers splayed over his wet skin. The slickness of the water only heightened the sensation of his touch, making every caress feel more intimate, more charged.

Murtasim's lips found the side of her neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses along her damp skin. Each kiss was slow, unhurried, but filled with so much longing that it sent a shiver straight through her.

"I missed this," he sighed against her neck, his breath hot against her wet skin, his lips lingering just below her ear.

Meerab tilted her head, giving him better access as his lips traveled along her neck. Each press of his mouth left her breathless, her body aching for more. "No one's stopping you," she whispered, her voice soft.

He sighed, his hands sliding lower to rest on her hips. "I thought you'd appreciate time to yourself, without tiny hands or big hands pawing at you," he murmured, his words heavy with understanding.

She did understand. Murtasim was always careful, always considerate of her space and what she might need. With a baby constantly in her arms, sometimes she did feel overstimulated, like Meesam was always needing her touch, her attention, her body.

"I know," she sighed as she pulled away slightly, just enough to look up at him. Her gaze met his, and for a moment, the steam swirling around them seemed to vanish. His hand came up to cup her cheek, his thumb gently tracing the line of her jaw.

"I'm sorry I made it seem like I didn't want you," he whispered, his voice soft but laced with guilt.

She shook her head, her heart aching with the truth she hadn't wanted to face. "I—I don't know where it all comes from," she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. "One moment I'm fine, I'm happy, and the next... it's like everything is wrong and no one loves me and—"

"I'll always love you," he said, cutting her off with the certainty that only Murtasim could offer.

"I know," she whispered, leaning into his touch, letting his words soothe the storm inside her.

"Talk to me next time," he said, his tone gentle but firm.

She nodded, her chest tightening with emotion as he leaned down to kiss her. The kiss wasn't heated like before; it was slow, soft, and filled with all the love and understanding they shared. It was the kind of kiss that made her feel safe, grounded, like she could weather anything as long as she had him.

"I love you," she whispered against his lips, loving how he smiled against hers at the words.

"I love you too, meri jaan," he whispered before kissing her again.

After a moment, he pulled back and reached for the shampoo, squirting some into his hands before gently massaging it into her hair. His fingers worked through the strands, his touch soothing as he washed away the stress of the day, the tension in her shoulders melting under his care.

Murtasim got handsy, as he used to, lingering on her breasts and between her legs as he soaped her up. His touch was playful, teasing, making her smile. The water sluiced over them, washing away the soap.

When she soaped him up, rubbing her hands over his chest and down his arms, he made those low humming noises he always did, the sound vibrating through him in a way that made her want to laugh and kiss him at the same time. It felt right. It felt like them again, the way they used to be.

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Author's Note: Sooooooooo, what do you think? What was your favourite part? I feel like I wrote smut after so long so I'd love to hear what y'all thought!