Author's Note: Hello! Firstly, thank you for all the love for the last chapter, it was so much fun reading through the comments. We move on now (swiftly) to the Maldives! I hope y'all enjoy this very long chapter, I will see you on the other side!

Trigger Warning: There's very kinky (angry, choking, breath-play, and spanking) sex ahead. Maybe skip it if that isn't your cup of tea (it starts after Murtasim follows Meerab back to their villa). Okay, bye!

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Meerab stood at by the island in the middle of their closet, sorting through a neatly folded pile of clothes. She was focused on getting their vacation packing done before their trip in a few days, but Murtasim had other ideas. He was, of course, not interested in practicality. He'd been rummaging through her lingerie drawer, tossing in whatever items he fancied into the suitcase with a smirk on his face.

"Why did I agree to this?" Murtasim sighed dramatically, holding up the more risqué red swimsuit she had worn on their honeymoon – the type she wasn't taking on this vacation.

Meerab shook her head in amusement. "Because you like your friends," she answered simply, reaching over to take the transparent cream babydoll he had just thrown into the suitcase out.

But before she could even fold it properly and set it aside, he put it back in again with a defiant grin.

"Murtasim," she sighed, her voice filled with exasperation.

"Meerab," he echoed, he leaned forward, resting his hands on the counter as he stared at her with the kind of playful, wide-eyed expression that made him look like a mischievous child.

"Stop it," she said, taking the babydoll out of the suitcase again, carefully placing it back on the dresser.

"Nahi," he replied, refusing to surrender, and promptly tossing it back in like it was a game they were playing.

She paused, glancing at him, and despite the chaos of packing, her heart melted a little, he was such a child sometimes.

Meerab huffed, rolling her eyes. "You're so annoying."

"And you love me," he responded smoothly, his lips curving into a smile as he stood back up.

She couldn't help but let out a small smile. It was impossible to stay serious with him when he was in one of his playful moods. He looked so proud of himself. She threw the babydoll back at him, hitting him square in the face.

He laughed as he pulled it off, holding it up to inspect again. "You should put this on, take it off dramatically, and then throw it at me—just like that," he teased, wagging his eyebrows, before chucking it back into the suitcase.

"Yeah, right," she muttered under her breath, shaking her head, her lips twitching at his ridiculous suggestions. "When am I even going to wear this?"

Murtasim didn't miss a beat. "When someone else watches Meesam," he said, flashing her a grin that made her stomach flutter.

She rolled her eyes again, half-smiling despite herself.

"Don't roll your eyes at me like that," he warned, stepping closer. "It makes me want to kiss you."

Without missing a beat, she flung the lingerie back at him, laughing as it smacked against his chest. He caught it with ease, his expression shifting into an exaggerated, mock-serious look.

"You know, meri jaan..." he started, that familiar glint in his eyes.

"Don't finish that sentence," she warned, already knowing exactly where he was headed.

He just grinned wider, the mischief practically radiating off him. "No. Instead of throwing this at me, why don't you throw what you're currently wearing my way?"

She let out an exasperated sigh. Just as she opened her mouth to retort, a soft whimper came through the baby monitor. Meesam was stirring from her nap.

They both paused and listened.

"I'll get her!" Murtasim volunteered instantly, already halfway out of the room before she could say anything else.

Meerab shook her head fondly, calling after him, "Don't wake her if she's just fussing!"

As his footsteps disappeared down the hall, she turned back to her packing, unable to stop smiling. She picked up one of the tiny swimsuits they had bought for Meesam—mint green with little white flowers stitched into the fabric. She could already picture Meesam in the water, kicking her legs excitedly, her little sunglasses too big for her face but completely adorable.

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Murtasim stood quietly beside the crib, watching his daughter as she stirred from her nap. Not just fussing this time—he knew her rhythms by now, the way she sometimes whimpered and settled back into sleep. This time, it was different. She was really waking up, her movements more exaggerated, her little mouth opening in that cute long yawn.

He smiled as he unzipped her sleep-swaddle, careful not to startle her as he freed her from its captivity. The softest coo escaped her lips as her tiny body stretched out, her arms extending and her little fists balling up near her cheeks. Her eyelashes fluttered, trying to adjust to the soft light in the room, and those perfect, tiny lips pursed from sleep slowly relaxed.

For a moment, he just stood there, taking her in. The roundness of her cheeks, the baby-soft curls that framed her forehead, the innocent curve of her mouth. Slowly, her eyes blinked open, still hazy with sleep, and then they focused on him.

And her entire face lit up and she gurgled.

"Hi, meri choti shehzaadi," he cooed, his voice low and warm.

In response, Meesam's face broke into the brightest smile, wide and pure, her eyes crinkling at the corners as a delighted squeal escaped her. Her tiny, chubby hands immediately reached up for him, and her legs kicked excitedly.

"Are you happy to see Baba?" he whispered, feeling the familiar swell of emotion tighten his chest. It was a feeling he couldn't put into words—this overwhelming warmth that filled every part of him when she looked at him like that. Like he was her entire world.

Leaning down, he gently reached into the crib and scooped her up. Her small body fit perfectly against him, and as soon as she was in his arms, she snuggled close to his chest, her little fingers grabbing onto the fabric of his kurta with a grip so tight it felt like she never wanted to let go.

Meesam babbled contentedly, her face nuzzling against him, making soft little "aaah" and "ooo" sounds as though she were telling him some grand, secret story only he could understand.

"Did you have a good nap, meri Meesam?" he asked, his voice a soft rumble against her tiny ear.

She responded with a coo.

Murtasim pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head, his lips brushing against the wispy strands of her baby hair, which tickled his chin.

Murtasim chuckled as Meesam wriggled in his arms, her body filled with the kind of uncontainable excitement only a seven-month-old could express. When she finally managed to tilt her head up to look at him, her wide, open-mouthed, gummy grin melted him all over again. She wasn't toothless anymore—two tiny teeth had just started to come in, making her smile even more precious.

"You missed me, hmm?" he whispered, brushing a thumb tenderly over her round, soft cheek.

Meesam's response was immediate. She grabbed his finger with both of her tiny hands, her grip surprisingly strong for such small fingers. She pulled it straight to her mouth and began gumming at it, making little content noises as she did so. His fingers had somehow become her favorite teething toys, and he couldn't help but smile at how serious she seemed while chewing on them.

Her big, curious eyes remained fixed on his, studying his face while she gnawed away. It amazed him sometimes, how much emotion could be contained in such a small, innocent gaze.

"Do you want to go see mama?" Murtasim asked, his grin growing wider.

Meesam's eyes brightened at the mention of "mama," and she let out a happy little squeal, kicking her legs in excitement. It was like magic—every single time someone said "mama," she would light up.

Murtasim shifted her gently in his arms and started walking back towards their closet. "Mama and Baba are packing our suitcases, with lots of cute little swimsuits and dresses just for you," he said softly, kissing the top of her head as they walked. Meesam wiggled even more excitedly at his words, as if she understood every single one.

As they entered the closet, Meerab was busy folding clothes and tucking them into neat piles in the suitcase. She looked up the moment they stepped inside, her face breaking into a smile. "Meri Meesam, did Murtasim wake you up?" she cooed, walking over – still refusing to use the word 'baba' for him.

Meesam squealed again, her little legs kicking in delight as Murtasim gently placed her down on the island, right beside the open suitcase. He stood right behind her, both hands on either side of her, knowing how adventurous she had become lately. She was at that stage where she could try to scoot off at any moment, and he wasn't taking any chances.

Her bright eyes sparkled with curiosity as she patted the surface beneath her chubby fingers, taking in the colorful array of clothes.

Murtasim grinned, pulling out a tiny, bright yellow sundress from the stack of clothes they'd bought for the trip. He held it up in front of her, letting the fabric sway in the air. "Look at this, meri choti shehzaadi. A yellow dress just for you, you look so pretty in yellow, just like your mama. Isn't it adorable?" he cooed, playfully shaking the dress to catch her attention.

Meesam's eyes grew wide with wonder, her lips forming a perfect little "O" of amazement as she reached out with both hands, her fingers curling around the fabric like she'd just discovered the most fascinating treasure in the world. With a delighted squeal, she immediately brought the hem of the dress to her face, ready to taste it.

"Ooo! Aaah!" she babbled happily, as though the dress had become the best toy ever.

Murtasim laughed, gently prying the dress away from her mouth. "No, no, you can't eat that, meri Meesam," he chuckled.

Meesam wrinkled her nose in the most adorable way, her tiny brows knitting together in a mock frown that only made Murtasim laugh even harder. She pouted up at him, clearly unimpressed with his interference.

"Alright, alright. How about this one?" Murtasim pulled out a tiny pink swimsuit with ruffles on the shoulders, holding it up in front of her so that it swayed like a flag.

The change in Meesam's mood was instant. Her little face brightened again, and she squealed with delight, reaching out eagerly with both hands. This time, she managed to grab the swimsuit in one hand, waving it around like a prize she'd won, babbling a string of "Ba-ba-ba! Da-da-da!" as if she were giving her approval.

He leaned down to plant a quick kiss on her cheek, her soft baby skin warm against his lips. "Oh, so you like the swimsuit, huh?" he teased. "You're going to look like the cutest little fish in the sea."

Murtasim watched as Meerab leaned over to tickle Meesam's belly, her fingers dancing lightly across their daughter's soft skin. The sound of Meerab's laughter filled the room first, and it was quickly followed by Meesam's own delighted squeal, her legs kicking wildly as she looked up at her mother with wide, sparkling eyes.

"Are you excited for your first vacation, Meesam? Hmm? Do you know how much fun you're going to have? With Aaminah, Salar, and Zeeshan," Meerab cooed, her voice full of warmth and excitement.

Meesam responded with another happy squeal, her chubby little hands reaching out toward her mother, opening and closing insistently as she babbled, "Maaaa-aaaah!" Her bright eyes were full of wonder, her gaze locked onto Meerab as if no one else in the world existed.

"Aww, you want Mama?" Meerab cooed again, lifting her up and peppering soft, loving kisses all over her cheeks. The moment Meesam felt her mother's lips against her skin, she broke into that deep, bubbly laugh that Murtasim knew by heart now—the one that melted both of their hearts instantly.

Murtasim smiled, watching them both, his chest swelling with love.

He reached for a tiny sunhat and matching sunglasses from the pile of clothes beside the suitcase, holding them up for Meesam to see. "Look at this!" he said in a playful tone, wiggling the hat in front of her. "You'll need this to stay cool in the sun."

With exaggerated care, he tried to balance the tiny white sunhat on Meesam's head. But, in typical Meesam fashion, her little hand shot up immediately, knocking the hat off with a determined swat. Her lips were pursed in the cutest little pout, a look that said she wasn't having any of it.

"Oh, she's not a fan of the hat," Meerab laughed, her eyes twinkling as she adjusted it on Meesam's head again, this time at a slight tilt. "But you'll thank us when you're under the sun, meri Meesam."

Meesam responded with a contented coo, her hands clapping together in a burst of excitement, as if she was applauding her parents' efforts.

But then, much to their surprise, she leaned forward suddenly, her tiny hands grabbing onto the side of the suitcase with unexpected determination. She peered into it with intense focus, her little face scrunched up in concentration as though she was making sure her parents had packed everything they needed.

Murtasim and Meerab exchanged a look, both of them breaking into laughter at their daughter's antics. The sight of her, with that serious little expression and those chubby hands clutching the suitcase like she was inspecting their work, was almost too much to handle.

"We're in so much trouble when she figures out crawling," Meerab chuckled, shaking her head in disbelief. "It's going to happen any day now."

Murtasim smiled, his heart full as he watched Meesam. She was already scooting herself around when they put her down on the floor, she just rocked back and forth when they put her on her hands and knees though.

"Let her explore," he said softly, scooping her up from the suitcase and cradling her close. Murtasim pressed another soft kiss to her head, feeling the warmth of her tiny body against his. "I'll be right there by her side," he whispered, his voice full of tenderness.

Because that was the truth, the most undeniable truth of all. No matter what adventures lay ahead—whether it was crawling, walking, or anything else—he'd be there, every step of the way, watching over his choti shehzaadi as she discovered the world around her.

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Murtasim leaned back against the cool edge of the oversized pool overlooking the clear turquoise ocean, letting the sound of laughter and splashes wash over him. His eyes, however, were glued to Meesam. She was bobbing around in her baby float, looking absolutely adorable. Tiny sunglasses perched perfectly on her little nose, and a white sunhat shading her chubby cheeks. The sight of her, so relaxed, with her arms stretched out on the sides of the float like a mini queen surveying her kingdom, made him chuckle.

"Oh, look at her!" Rani squealed nearby, splashing around with Zeeshan, who was also floating curiously beside Meesam. "She's so cute, mashallah!"

Meerab, floating next to Murtasim, laughed, her face glowing with happiness as she watched their daughter. "She's got her father's attitude, that's for sure," she teased, throwing him a playful glance as she swam by.

Murtasim smirked. "Only the best for meri choti shehzaadi," he replied, leaning over to adjust Meesam's hat so it wouldn't slip off into the water.

Meesam babbled something between a "ba-ba-ba" and a series of "ooo" and "aaah" sounds, her chubby legs kicking in the water, creating tiny ripples around her.

"Push Meetaim?" came Salar's little voice, he was swimming laps with his father, splashing water everywhere despite Dua's half-hearted attempts to keep him from doing so.

Meesam's attention immediately shifted to the splashes. She squealed, her tiny hands waving in excitement, as if begging to join in the fun.

Murtasim chuckled. "Gently," he warned, and Salar nodded earnestly, pushing Meesam's float with just the right amount of force, taking her around the pool as Murtasim followed.

Meesam let out another happy squeal, her feet kicking with joy, sending more ripples through the water. Zeeshan, not one to be left out, started kicking his legs harder, sending droplets her way as they passed him. Meesam giggled louder, her head tilting toward him, one hand lifting in an attempt to reach him, though her chubby fingers wobbled in the air before landing back on the float.

"Your son is bothering my daughter," Murtasim cast a mock glare at Shahzain, who swam by with Aaminah.

"Aaminah, say hi to Meesam!" Shahzain called, ignoring Murtasim completely.

Aaminah, serious in her little swimsuit, waggled her fingers. "Hi, Meetaim," she chirped.

Meesam's eyes widened at the greeting before she broke into another series of delighted babbles, her float rocking slightly as her feet kicked energetically.

"Baba's little water baby," Murtasim murmured, leaning closer to her float, his heart swelling as her bright eyes met his.

Meesam responded with another babble, her tiny hands reaching out in his direction. Without thinking, he leaned closer, pressing a kiss to her cheek. The moment his lips touched her skin, her entire face lit up, as if that was exactly what she wanted.

Meerab swam closer, her smile soft and warm. "You're spoiling her," she said.

"Isn't that the point?" Murtasim grinned, turning to Meerab and catching her around the waist, pulling her closer.

She squealed in surprise, glancing around quickly. But with all the kids splashing and making noise, no one seemed to notice them.

"Murtasim!" she whispered, giggling as she wiggled in his grasp, his hand playfully sliding to her bare thigh under the water. "Everyone's watching!"

"Let them," he murmured, his voice full of mischief, holding her securely against him.

Meerab rolled her eyes, though the smile she was trying to suppress gave her away.

"You gave in really quickly," he teased, his fingers brushing lightly against her skin.

"Should I be like Meesam and start screaming because I didn't get my way?" she fired back, raising a brow.

Murtasim smirked, his voice dropping to a suggestive murmur. "Save the screaming for later," he said, winking at her.

She gasped, her cheeks flushing as she whacked him on the chest. "Sharam karo, Murtasim! Ek bache ke baap ho, kahin bhi shuru ho jaate ho," she said, repeating his mother's famous line with a smirk, knowing exactly how to get under his skin.

Murtasim groaned, rolling his eyes. She had been using that line on him every chance she got, and he both loved and hated how much she enjoyed teasing him with it.

Meerab laughed, swimming just out of his reach towards Meesam.

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The sound of gentle waves lapping against the shore and the gentle breeze made for a peaceful afternoon on the beach. Meerab reclined in her beach chair under the large umbrella, the warmth of the sun gently seeping through the shade. Meesam lay snuggled on her chest, fast asleep, her tiny hand gripping Meerab's swimsuit strap under her white shirt-dress as if she were holding on to her mama even in her dreams. Zeeshan was napping on a lounge chair next to Salar, while Aaminah busily built an elaborate sandcastle, her little hands carefully shaping the turrets.

"Do you think one of them killed themselves by accident? They should be back by now," Rani asked with a smirk from her chair beside Meerab.

Meerab blinked up from her relaxed stupor, shielding her eyes from the sun as she looked out toward the water again. Before, in the distance, she had barely made out the figures of Murtasim, Saad, and Shahzain as they took turns wakeboarding, being pulled along by a speedboat moving from the yacht. Now, they were no longer wakeboarding. The sun glinted off the waves, making it hard to see, but she figured that the speedboat moving away from the larder yacht had to be theirs.

"I'm sure they've done worse without instructors," Dua added, her voice tinged with amusement as they all gazed toward the horizon.

"I told Murtasim I'd kill him if he dies," Meerab muttered, her lips curving into a slight pout as she adjusted Meesam on her chest, making Rani snicker beside her.

"Nice," Rani laughed, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

"She does threaten to kill him a lot," Dua observed, her tone light as she stretched her legs out in front of her, absentmindedly rubbing her small baby bump.

"He's annoying," Meerab sighed dramatically, though there was a clear affection behind her words.

Rani arched an eyebrow, leaning in closer with a teasing smile. "Because he tries to undress you at any opportunity?"

"He wasn't trying to undress me!" Meerab whined, her voice rising just enough to make both Rani and Dua giggle.

"Of course, why else would he be pulling at the straps of your bathing suit?" Dua added, a mischievous grin creeping onto her face.

"Not you too!" Meerab groaned, shifting her body slightly as she snuggled closer to Meesam, feeling the steady rhythm of her daughter's soft breaths against her.

Dua giggled again, a soft and warm sound. "It's cute, though, the way he can't keep his hands off you," she said, her eyes glinting with amusement.

Meerab sighed, feeling her cheeks warm. She really couldn't argue that point—Murtasim's attention was flattering most of the time, but when they were surrounded by people, it could be exasperating.

Desperate to change the subject before Rani could get any more ideas, she glanced at Dua. "Are you feeling okay?" she asked, her tone softening with concern.

Dua nodded, her hand resting protectively over her belly. "I think it's a girl this time," she said, smiling softly. "I never threw up with Salar, but this time, it's different."

Meerab grinned, remembering her own pregnancy and the whirlwind of emotions and symptoms that came with it. "I don't miss that," she sighed, her fingers absentmindedly stroking Meesam's soft hair.

"Same," Rani chimed in. "But I miss pregnancy sex, though."

Both Meerab and Dua groaned simultaneously, rolling their eyes in unison. "There are kids around," Dua scolded playfully, glancing toward Aaminah, who was still lost in her sandcastle masterpiece.

"Aaminah is all the way over there, and the rest of them are asleep," Rani pointed out, completely unbothered, before suddenly perking up. She pulled her phone out of her bag, scrolling through it. "Oh, before I forget, here!" she said, handing her phone to Meerab with a grin.

Meerab took the phone, curiosity piqued. "What is it?" she asked, glancing at the screen.

"Pictures from university, as requested," Rani said triumphantly.

Meerab's face lit up. "You found them?!" she exclaimed, her voice an excited whisper, not wanting to wake the babies.

Rani grinned. "Dua did," she admitted, gesturing to Dua.

Dua sighed, her hand resting gently on her baby bump as she glanced at Meerab. "Give Meesam to me while you look through the pictures. I miss contact naps, and she's just so cute."

Meerab shifted, carefully transferring the warm little bundle in her arms to Dua, who immediately cradled the sleeping baby against her chest. Meesam fussed for a moment, her tiny hands twitching in protest before settling again, her face snuggling into Dua's shoulder.

"She's so cuteeee," Dua whined softly, her hand gently playing with Meesam's soft hair while patting her back. Meerab loved watching Dua interact with her daughter, she had been the one to help bring Meesam into this world after all, and Meesam – somehow – seemed to unconsciously know that and gravitated towards Dua a lot.

As Meerab scrolled through Rani's phone, her attention shifted from Meesam. The screen was filled with picture after picture from her husband's university days. Most of them featured Murtasim, Saad, Shahzain, and Shahryar, lounging in relaxed poses or posing for the camera with cocky grins and youthful bravado. She couldn't help but giggle at some of them.

"Murtasim wore blazers to dinners?" she laughed, holding the phone up for Rani and Dua to see. "Everyone else is in sweats, and he's there, dressed like he's attending a business meeting."

Dua let out a snort. "He always dressed sharp. Even when we were running late, he'd throw on a blazer and look like he was stepping onto a runway."

Meerab grinned as she flipped through more photos, her smile growing wider with every ridiculous image she came across. But then—her finger paused. Her gaze snagged on an unfamiliar face in one of the photos.

It was a picture of Shahzain, Shahryar, and Rani with Murtasim, but standing with them was a girl Meerab had never seen before.

"Who is this?" Meerab asked as she held the phone out toward Dua and Rani.

Rani didn't even hesitate. She smirked. "That is Fariha."

The name alone was enough to set off a small flare of jealousy deep in Meerab's chest. She knew the name. "Obsessed with Murtasim Fariha?" she asked, narrowing her eyes just slightly.

"Yep," Rani confirmed with an all-too-knowing grin.

Meerab hummed, but the jealousy was already starting to coil tighter, spreading through her like wildfire. "She hung out with you all?"

"Not often," Dua said, but the answer didn't bring as much comfort as Meerab had hoped.

"Often enough," Rani chimed in, her voice light, as if it were all a harmless memory.

"I see," Meerab muttered, her fingers swiping across the screen a little too forcefully as she continued scrolling through the pictures. She had been so busy fawning over how handsome Murtasim looked in these photos, but now—now her focus was on something entirely different.

How had he never mentioned that Fariha hung out with them back then? Was it important? Did it matter? Why did it suddenly feel like it did?

And then, she saw it. A picture of just Murtasim and Fariha. Alone. Solo.

"They hung out alone?" Meerab asked, her voice tight, trying her hardest to keep her cool.

"Sometimes," Rani said casually, not realizing that the simple answer was stoking the fire that was quickly building in Meerab's chest.

Meerab hummed again, but inside, she was fuming.

She stared at the picture, trying not to let her irritation show on her face, but it was difficult. In the photo, both of them were crouching and looking at the camera, Murtasim was leaning toward Fariha, his hand resting thoughtfully on his chin, looking too comfortable, too at ease. He even had a hint of a smile on his face—a smile that looked a little too genuine for her liking.

A smile that he had never seen directed at her during all those years before their marriage. She hadn't known he was capable of smiling like that until after their marriage.

She huffed, glaring at the screen.

How could Murtasim claim that he had always liked her when she had never seen him look at her with such ease, such familiarity? They didn't have a single picture like the one she was looking at from their younger days. No, back then, he avoided her, he kept his distance, or he glared and fought with her. But here he was, taking solo pictures with Fariha, hanging out with her, smiling.

Meerab's grip tightened on the phone as she huffed again, her jealousy bubbling to the surface in full force now. She didn't even care that Rani and Dua were watching her, probably smirking at her reaction. She couldn't help it.

Her eyes shot out toward the water, glaring at the speedboat that was slowly coming closer, with Murtasim still on it, probably laughing and having the time of his life while she was over here fuming over a stupid picture.

Her eyes flicked back to the phone in her hand, back to her. Fariha. Dressed casually yet confidently, her curly hair spilling over her shoulders like she wasn't even trying. Of course, she wasn't trying. She was just naturally pretty.

So that's why he liked her, Meerab thought sourly.

They were both dressed in dark colors, posing way too close in the picture. It almost looked coordinated, and the warmth in Fariha's smile—it was too much, too familiar. The kind of smile you give someone you're close with, someone you know well.

Meerab's stomach twisted, a sour feeling creeping up her throat. Is that the smile Murtasim liked?

"I thought I liked her"—my foot, she thought bitterly, remembering Murtasim's casual dismissal of his feelings.

"Did they ever go on dates?" Meerab asked, her voice sharper than she intended.

"No—" Dua began.

But, of course, Rani interrupted, smirking as she always did when she smelled drama. "They probably did. How would we know everything?"

Meerab's glare hardened as she stared at the photo, at the girl who seemed too comfortable with her husband.

He said he never dated anyone.

He had told her once that he thought he liked someone before. He'd brushed it off, saying that she only liked him for his money, that she wasn't who he thought she was. That it hadn't gone anywhere.

But it was clear, from the photos she was seeing now, that it had gone somewhere. She was seeing proof of it. Solo pictures of them hanging out. Smiling. Happy. Too close for comfort.

If it hadn't gone anywhere, why were there pictures? Why had she been so close to him, part of his life, with his friends?

Murtasim had lied to her.

Her stomach churned as she remembered his words to Maryam - who was currently on her honeymoon with Shahryar. "You either like someone or you don't. What is think?" he'd said, all smug and self-assured.

So obviously, he did like her, Meerab seethed internally.

There was more to it than he had let on. He had made it sound like nothing, but there was something there. They had pictures together, they hung out. He'd spent time with her, enough that she had been part of his life, part of his circle, with his friends.

She huffed in irritation, her chest tightening as she stared at the image. Her fingers gripped the phone a little tighter, her knuckles whitening. What else hadn't he told her?

She looked up, her glare snapping back to the dock where the speedboat had just come to a stop. Murtasim was laughing, throwing his black Adidas muscle tank back on, hiding that annoyingly tanned, shirtless body of his as he trailed behind Shahzain and Saad on the dock. And it only made her angrier.

The closer he got, the harder her glare became. She could feel the heat of it seeping into her bones, her jaw tightening as she crossed her arms over her chest. Rani must have noticed because she snickered beside her, and Dua let out a soft sigh.

Shahzain reached them first, his grin wide as he ran his fingers through his wet hair, the droplets falling onto the sand. "Ladies, you missed out. It was so much fun."

"I'm sure," Rani said, half laughing as she tried to shield herself when Shahzain shook out his hair, getting her all wet. He just laughed harder and sat beside her, pulling her into his lap while Aaminah climbed into her mother's lap, telling her father about the sandcastle she had just built.

Saad moved towards Dua, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before he offered to take Salar for another swim.

But Meerab? She couldn't stop glaring. Especially not when Murtasim came closer, that stupid grin of his plastered across his face like he had no idea how much she wanted to punch him.

"Why are you glaring?" he asked, amusement lacing his tone as he sat down beside her, leaning in closer. "I didn't die, meri jaan."

But before he could get comfortable, Meerab shot to her feet.

He frowned, confused as he looked up at her. "What's wrong?"

She rolled her eyes so hard it hurt and shoved Rani's phone into his hand, muttering under her breath, "Thought I liked her, my foot."

Murtasim blinked, clearly lost as he glanced at the screen. But she didn't stick around to explain. She slipped her flip-flops back on and turned to Dua, ready to grab Meesam and get as far away from him as possible.

Dua gently shook her head. "I'll keep her. You go," Dua insisted, her voice soothing as she rubbed small circles on Meesam's back, trying to keep her settled.

"It's okay," Meerab replied, her tone firm but her patience wearing thin.

"No, let her sleep," Rani chimed in, grinning much too widely, a mischievous glint in her eyes. It was like they knew exactly why she was fuming and were all enjoying watching the drama unfold. Annoying.

Meerab shot Rani a narrow-eyed look before turning back toward Murtasim, who was finally catching up. "Meri jaan—" he began, his voice trailing with a certain softness that she absolutely did not want to deal with right now.

Too late for that! She thought, her eyes flashing with irritation as she stomped off towards their villa, determined to get away from him before she exploded in front of everyone.

"Kabhi koi nahi thi, bas tum ho, hamesha tum thi," she muttered under her breath, mimicking the words he had once uttered to her. The ones she had melted for. "Pagal bana kar rakha hai!" she huffed.

She could hear Murtasim's steps quickening behind her, the sound of sand crunching underfoot as they left the beach. The anger in her chest throbbed, her heart beating in time with the stomp of her flip-flops against the boardwalk leading back to their villa. She didn't care about the calming sound of the ocean anymore, or the warm breeze that whipped through her hair.

"Meerab," his voice called out behind her, now sharp but tinged with concern. He was getting closer.

"Meerab," he said again, his tone edged with worry, but she could still picture his stupid, handsome face next to her—Fariha—so casual, so comfortable, like they had shared something more than what he'd led her to believe.

Her flip-flops slapped harder against the boardwalk as she stomped onward, every step fueled by the image of them together. Her anger flared even more as she remembered the way he had dismissed her questions before.

"You're overreacting, meri jaan," Murtasim said, his voice now closer, too close for her comfort.

"Don't meri jaan me!" she snapped over her shoulder, the words flying out before she could stop them. "I thought I liked her, it was nothing—just some girl," she muttered to herself, mocking his earlier explanation, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Kya keh rahi ho?" Murtasim whined, speeding up to walk beside her. She could hear the confusion in his tone, as if he had no idea why she was so mad. Of course, he doesn't.

She stopped, whipping around to face him. "Those pictures didn't look like nothing to me," she snapped, arms crossing over her chest as she glared up at him.

His lips curved into an almost playful grin, and she could hear the teasing lilt in his voice when he asked, "Are you jealous?"

Jealous? The nerve! She glared at him harder, her anger spiking as she pushed open the door to their villa. "Get lost!" she shot back, storming inside. She didn't care if she sounded childish or dramatic. He deserved it.

"No," he replied, his voice still too amused for her liking, as he followed her inside without missing a beat.

She stormed toward the bathroom, needing a moment, but of course, he was right behind her. "She was friends with everyone," he said casually, as if that was supposed to make her feel better.

She scoffed, her eyes rolling so hard she thought they might get stuck. "So, then you lied before," she muttered under her breath, turning on the water in the bathroom sink and washing her hands in a vain attempt to calm herself down.

"When did I lie?" he asked, sounding genuinely confused. "I told you about her!"

"Oh, acha," Meerab said, her voice rising as she turned the water off and faced him. "And what was it that you said? Haan, just some random clingy girl that you thought you liked... oh, but how can you think you like someone? You either do or you don't! Remember that?" She mimicked him with a mocking tilt of her head, throwing his own words right back at him.

Murtasim's brow furrowed as he leaned against the bathroom doorframe, arms crossed, that casual, confident stance that made her want to scream. "You're absolutely crazy right now," he said, shaking his head, his tone infuriatingly nonchalant. "I didn't lie."

Her hands flew to her hips as she glared at him. "Oh really? Then what was that? Because those pictures say otherwise."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, clearly trying to keep his cool. "You know how many group pictures we took in university? She was friends with everyone. It didn't mean anything."

"It looked like it meant something!" she shot back, her voice louder now. "And how come I didn't know she was around so much? How come you've never mentioned it before?"

"It wasn't important," Murtasim said, his voice casual, almost dismissive, which only made the rage inside her flare hotter. His nonchalance felt like a slap to the face, and it pissed her off more than she could articulate.

She thought as she spun to face him, glaring with all the pent-up frustration she could muster. "You never told me she hung out with all of you—on numerous occasions. And you didn't tell me you were close enough to hang out alone and take pictures together."

He sighed, clearly exasperated. "Do you want a summary of everything and every person I've ever known, then?" he snapped back.

Her eyes narrowed, her anger boiling over. "You know what? If you're going to act like that, we don't have anything to talk about," she said, brushing past him, feeling a desperate need to get away from him. But before she could take more than a step, his hand shot out, grabbing hers, and he spun her back toward him.

"Oh no, you're not walking away from this," he muttered, his voice low, just before he picked her up with ease, hoisting her onto the bathroom counter. The sudden movement made her scream in surprise, and before she could even react, he grabbed her wrists, pinning them down on either side of her, holding her in place. His body pressed against hers, leaving no space between them, as he leaned forward.

Her heart was pounding, not just from the anger anymore, but from the proximity, the way his eyes bore into hers. His face was close—too close—and she could feel his breath on her skin, warm and teasing. A thrill curled low in her belly, despite the fire raging inside her. She hated that he could make her feel like this, even in the middle of a fight.

He leaned in more, his grip firm on her wrists, his fingers pressing into the delicate skin at her pulse points. She was tethered in place, unable to move. "I answered every question you asked me. Honestly at that," he said pointedly, his voice low, controlled, yet edged with frustration.

"But you didn't tell me everything I needed to know, you acted like it was absolutely nothing!" she shot back, still trying to tug her wrists free, but he wouldn't let go.

He stepped even closer, his jaw clenched, hurt flashing in his eyes. "And you think that's because I had something to hide?"

She hesitated for a second, then nodded stubbornly. But he didn't back down.

"So, after all this time, you still don't trust me? And you've decided to make a huge deal out of some woman I knew once." His voice was thick now, frustration mixing with something deeper—something that tugged at her heart despite the anger flaring between them.

"That's not what I—" she began, but he cut her off, his voice dropping to a dangerously low murmur.

"That's exactly what you're implying." He leaned in even closer, his lips mere inches from hers, his eyes burning with intensity. "I didn't lie," he retorted, his voice firm, sending a shiver down her spine.

He was towering over her now, his presence consuming, and despite the fiery anger that coursed through her veins, she couldn't deny the way her pulse quickened, her heart thundering against her chest.

He was so close, so infuriatingly right there, and it both enraged her and made her feel... something else entirely.

"You did," she spat back, her voice sharp, her chest heaving as she glared at him. She had asked him a question, he said it was just some girl he thought he liked, but it hadn't gone anywhere. And that was clearly a lie, that was what she was mad about. The lie.

She tried once more to pull her arms free from his grip, but he held firm, his fingers tightening just enough to make her stop, his lips curling into a smug smirk that only infuriated her more.

"I didn't lie," he said again, his voice like steel. "She was just a friend."

She scoffed, her jealousy simmering dangerously close to boiling over. "Hmph—I'll remember that next time when I go to Karachi," she shot back, her voice laced with sarcasm, enjoying the way his eyes darkened at her words.

"What?" His brow furrowed, his grip still tight.

"Friends don't take pictures like that together," she said, her voice rising.

He narrowed his eyes. "Friends also don't throw friends elaborate birthday parties," he countered, clearly trying to turn the tables on her, bringing up Rohail again.

"Fine," she snapped, her voice shaking with rage and something she couldn't name. "Then I'll go take a picture with Rohail, and we can frame that one and yours with Fariha, and we'll hang them up side by side in our living room." The words flew out before she could think twice.

His reaction was immediate. "Meerab." His voice dropped into a low, dark rumble, sending a tremor through her. It was that tone—possessive, dangerous, the one that always made her stomach flip – the one that reminded her that her husband, as gentle as he was with her, was the type that could kill a man without hesitating.

He leaned in even closer, his face inches from hers now, his grip unyielding.

"Why? Is there a problem now?" she challenged, her voice shaking but defiant.

His eyes locked on hers, his lips so close now that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her skin. "Shut up," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, his hold on her tightening.

Her pulse quickened, and she felt heat rise to her cheeks, her skin tingling with an intensity she couldn't ignore. Her body was betraying her again, responding to him despite the anger burning in her chest.

"Let me go," she whispered, her voice shaky, hating how weak it sounded.

"Not a chance," he whispered, his voice low, possessive. His grip on her wrists didn't loosen, and then—before she could say another word—he crashed his lips against hers, the kiss rough, fierce, and claiming.

Her body responded before her mind could catch up. She tried to push him away at first, but it was useless—her body melted against his, giving in to the fire that sparked between them. His kiss was demanding, punishing, his lips moving against hers in a way that left her breathless, overwhelmed.

Her heart pounded in her chest, the anger still there, but something else was taking over, simmering under the surface.

She hated him for making her feel like this.

But she kissed him back, fiercely, their lips locked in a battle of wills, each trying to overpower the other. And for a moment, the anger, the jealousy, everything else disappeared, drowned out by the heat that roared between them.

His grip on her wrists loosened, just enough for her hands to slip free, but before she could even react, his hand moved, his fingers curled around her throat, firm yet testing. It wasn't rough—not yet—just enough pressure to make her feel the weight of his control. His mouth never left hers as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against hers with a slow, possessive rhythm that made her shudder.

Her breath caught in her chest, trapped beneath the pressure of his hand. Her pulse thudded hard and fast beneath his fingers, the pounding beat in her neck. Every nerve in her body was on fire, and the pressure on her throat sent shockwaves of desire radiating outward, mingling with the last smoldering remnants of her anger.

She gasped against his mouth, but it wasn't a sound of fear or resistance. Her hands flew up to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his tank, gripping it tight, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away. She needed him closer. The rough heat of his body against hers was electrifying, his hand controlling the very air she breathed, and it only made her want more.

Murtasim pulled back slightly, his lips leaving hers but his grip around her throat never loosening. Her eyes fluttered open, breath shallow, and she met his gaze—those dark, intense eyes boring into her, filled with something raw, something possessive. It made her heart slam against her ribs, as if trying to break free from the cage of her chest.

"You don't need to be jealous of anyone, meri jaan," he rasped, his voice low, each word dripping with promise. "And if you mention Rohail one more time, I swear he'll be dead as soon as I get my hands on him."

His fingers flexed around her throat, tightening just enough to make her breath catch, to make her body react, her thighs clenching involuntarily as the heat between them climbed.

"Do I make myself clear?" he demanded. His dark eyes pinned her in place, burning into hers with that same possessive fire that she felt burning inside her.

His words sank deep into her, fueling the heat that was flooding through her veins, drowning out everything else. d

"No," she breathed, defiant even as the words left her lips, her voice nothing more than a strained whisper under the pressure of his hand.

His eyes darkened, a wicked grin tugging at the corner of his lips as his grip tightened around her throat, cutting off her air, stealing her breath. She could barely think, barely process anything but the feel of him—his body pressed against hers, his hand on her throat, the overwhelming sense of being completely at his mercy.

"You're mine," he murmured, his voice low, dark, vibrating with possessiveness. His fingers pressed harder, his grip unrelenting, leaving her dizzy, lightheaded. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Everything inside her was on fire, every nerve buzzing.

He pushed closer, closing the distance between them until there was nothing left between them but the heat of their bodies. His hard length was unmistakable now, pressing against her thigh through the thin fabric of his swimming shorts. The sensation shot straight through her, a jolt of raw need that made her gasp, her body trembling with the overwhelming urge to move, to arch into him, to beg for more.

A breathless gasp escaped her lips as he loosened his hold around her neck a little, and she couldn't stop the way her hips shifted, pressing into him, her body betraying her.

Murtasim's lips twitched into a knowing smile, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest as he leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. "I don't know what it is about you being angry that gets me so fucking hard," he whispered, his words dripping with hunger, sending a shiver racing down her spine.

Her lips parted, a sharp gasp slipping out as his grip tightened again around her throat, squeezing harder. The pressure sent a pulse of need rocketing through her body, her thighs pressing together instinctively as she tried to catch her breath. But she couldn't. His fingers controlled the air she breathed, the tension in her throat making her feel like she was about to snap, and it only heightened the heat curling low in her belly, winding tighter, hotter with every second.

His eyes never left hers, dark and intense, locking her in place, trapping her in the moment. There was no escape—not from him, not from the desire that was threatening to consume her whole.

"Just... with me?" she managed to whisper, her voice rasping through the tightening hold around her throat.

He hummed as he leaned in again, his mouth brushing hers in a way that was more tease than kiss, his breath ghosting over her lips. "Only you," he muttered, his voice so possessive that it made her shiver, her entire body trembling.

And then he tightened his grip on her throat even more, choking her just a little harder, just enough to make her vision blur, her lips parting in a silent, breathless gasp. The room spun around her, her heart thudding wildly in her chest as the lack of air made her head swim, made her body react in ways she couldn't control. Every nerve was on fire, every muscle in her body screaming for more.

His other hand slid down to her hip, pulling her even closer, so close that she could feel every inch of him—his hard cock pressing against her, teasing her, making her hips arch toward him involuntarily. The heat between her legs was unbearable now, a throbbing ache that demanded to be sated, her body trembling with the need for him.

"You have no idea how much I want to take you right now," he whispered, his voice rough, thick with desire, full of hunger that made her knees weak.

She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. Every coherent thought had been stolen by the pressure of his hand on her throat. Her body was trembling, desperate, alight with the need to be taken, to be claimed.

Murtasim's grip tightened a bit further. She could feel her pulse hammering against his grip, could feel her body teetering on the edge of something that both terrified and thrilled her.

Meerab's lips parted in a silent gasp, her body arching involuntarily against the pressure, her chest heaving in a desperate attempt to draw air. But he didn't let up—his hand remained firm, controlling every breath, every gasp, every tremble that ran through her body. And she didn't understand why she loved it.

She felt her pulse hammering wildly beneath his grip, a frantic rhythm that matched the chaos inside her. Her breath caught, a sharp intake that stuck in her chest as he loosened his hand for just a second, to let her breathe in air. And then his hand tightened again, squeezing harder, her airway closing, leaving her helpless under his control. She fought to keep her eyes open, struggling against the dizziness that swept through her in a desperate haze of both panic and pleasure.

She gasped, her hands flying up to clutch at his wrist, fingers trembling as they wrapped around the solid strength of his forearm. She should push him away, she should fight it, but her body had other ideas. It was betraying her in the most humiliating way, arching closer to him, her hips pressing into his, her thighs squeezing together, holding him close. The panic of not being able to breathe warred with the white-hot desire that thrummed through her veins, and the combination left her gasping, trembling, lost.

He loosened his grip, just enough to let her take in a single, shallow, ragged breath. Her chest heaved against him, pressing against his solid frame as her lungs greedily pulled in the air he allowed. Her body relaxed momentarily in the relief of being able to breathe, but before she could fully recover, his grip flexed again, tightening, his fingers firm and unyielding around her neck.

"Look at you," he rasped, his voice thick with dark amusement, lips so close to her ear that she could feel the heat of his breath against her skin. His lips grazed the sensitive flesh just below her ear, sending a shiver down her spine, and she swore her entire body lit up from that one simple touch. "So helpless... so mine..."

Meerab gasped, the sound barely escaping her as her throat. Her pulse raced faster, pounding wildly in her chest. She tried to speak, tried to form words, but nothing coherent came out. All that escaped was a desperate whimper, and her nails dug into his arm, her body trembling uncontrollably.

Her mind was torn in two directions. Part of her screamed for her to resist, to push him away, to reclaim some control over her own body. But the other part of her—the part that was already soaked, already aching, already burning for him—welcomed the surrender. The pleasure that came with giving in to him, to his dominance, to the way he claimed her without hesitation or restraint, was too overwhelming to ignore. And that side, the side that wanted him to take everything, was winning.

Murtasim smirked, watching her, as if he knew exactly how hard she was fighting herself, and how much he was breaking her down.

His hand tightened again. She gasped against the pressure, her vision darkening, her fingers digging harder into his arm, silently begging for release. Just as the edge of panic became unbearable, he loosened his grip, allowing her to take in shaky, desperate breaths.

Each time she gasped his name—each broken, breathless sound that escaped her lips—he squeezed again, as if rewarding her with the very thing she feared. And each time he did, she could feel the hard length of him pressing against her, his cock twitching with every little gasp, every breathless moan, the fabric between them doing little to disguise the intensity of his arousal.

"Beg," he groaned, his voice low, dangerous, vibrating with the promise of more. "Beg me to let you breathe, Meerab."

Her chest heaved, desperate for air as the pressure of his hand suffocated her. She was caught between the need for oxygen and the relentless ache between her legs, the heat pooling there unbearable now, dripping with want. Her body arched into him again, seeking relief, but her mind screamed for air, her lungs burning. She couldn't take much more. But even then, even as her body trembled with the need to submit, she was stubborn.

Her eyes, wide and filled with desperation, locked onto his, but she refused to give him what he wanted. Her lips remained tightly shut, her breath hitching as she shook her head in defiance, unwilling to beg, unwilling to give in.

That seemed to be the last straw. Murtasim's patience snapped.

With a rough, frustrated groan, he released her throat. Her body sagged for just a moment as she gasped in a lungful of air, the relief so intense it almost made her dizzy, but it didn't last. Before she could even catch her breath, his fingers tore into her flimsy shirt dress, the fabric giving way under his strength. The ripping sound echoed through the room, buttons scattering across the floor as he tore it open, leaving her standing there in just the bathing suit beneath.

She didn't even have time to react. He grabbed her, yanking her body off the counter, shoving her back against the wall. The force of it made her gasp, the breath knocked out of her as her back collided with the cold surface, the shock of it sending a fresh wave of desire straight between her legs. The coolness of the wall was a sharp contrast to the heat of his body as he crowded her, leaving her nowhere to escape.

"You don't need this either," he snarled, his voice rough, laced with frustration and need. His hands moved to the top of her bathing suit—modest, but not enough to shield her from his hungry gaze—and with a quick, harsh motion, he pulled it off. The material slid from her body, baring her completely, leaving her exposed, vulnerable under his burning stare.

His hands were on her instantly, rough and demanding, fingers digging into her skin as if he couldn't get enough. His touch was unrelenting, his hands slid over her breasts, squeezing them hard enough to make her whimper. His thumbs brushed over her nipples, already hard and sensitive, and the sharp press of his fingers pinching them sent a jolt of pleasure-pain straight to her core.

"Ahhh—" The sound escaped her lips before she could stop it, a mix of a moan and a gasp as he pinched her sensitive nipples again, harder this time, twisting them just enough to make her body arch against him, a cry of both pain and pleasure spilling from her lips. The sensation was overwhelming, her body so attuned to him, so desperate for his touch, that even the pain became something she craved, something that pushed her closer to the edge.

Murtasim's hands moved again, sliding down to her waist as he spun her around, his strength undeniable as he pinned her front against the wall. The cool surface pressed against her bare skin, her nipples rubbing against the rough texture, sending another wave of sensation rushing through her. Her breath hitched, a low gasp escaping her as her body reacted, her nipples aching from the stimulation, her thighs pressing together in an attempt to alleviate the relentless ache between them.

She felt him move behind her, his black tank top falling to the floor somewhere before he moved closer.

One of his hands slid up to grab a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back sharply. The sharp sting made her gasp, but it wasn't just pain—it was something more, something that made her thighs clench and her body arch for more. His breath was hot against her neck as he leaned in, his lips grazing her skin with a teasing, possessive touch.

"Always so fucking defiant," he whispered, his voice rough against her ear, the words sending a shiver down her spine.

She whimpered, her breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps, her breasts pressing harder against the cool wall, her nipples so hard they ached. The sharp pull of his hand in her hair was unbearable, but the heat between her legs was even worse. She could feel the wetness there, pooling, soaking through her bathing suit bottoms, her body betraying how much she needed him.

"I thought you liked that," she gasped out, her voice shaky, breathless, but still filled with that same defiance that drove him wild.

Murtasim chuckled, the sound low and filled with promise, as his grip on her hair tightened, pulling harder, the sting making Meerab gasp. His voice dropped to a whisper, brushing against her ear like a tease. "It made me want to do this all the time... especially those first few weeks." The tension in his words, the weight of his desire, sent a shock through her body.

She could feel him—his hard cock pressing firmly against her ass, grinding into her as he held her in place, the undeniable evidence of his desire for her. The thick heat of him burned through the fabric separating them, a constant, teasing reminder of how much he wanted her. Her hips involuntarily shifted back against him, her body betraying her as it sought more of that delicious pressure, more of him.

A whimper escaped her lips as she registered his words, soft and needy, and for a brief moment, her mind flashed back to the morning after their walima—the intimacy of that moment when he'd helped her put on the chain. She'd felt his hands on her skin then, the heat of his body behind her, and something had stirred inside her then—something she hadn't recognized as desire. Back then, her body had reacted to his presence, the closeness of him, but she'd shoved the feeling away, buried it deep under her own stubbornness.

Now, it all made sense. This was what she had been afraid of, the raw power of what he could make her feel.

His hands moved back to her throat, this time from behind, his fingers wrapping around her neck with a possessive ease, just as he had put that necklace on her so easily. He pulled her back, slamming her body against his, her back arching into him as his grip controlled her, his palm firm but not suffocating—yet.

"Why didn't you?" she gasped out, her voice breaking through the haze of desire clouding her thoughts. Would she have given in to this, to him, to the desire that had lingered? Would she have figured out what it was if he touched her like he was right then?

Murtasim's lips brushed against her ear, his breath hot and ragged as he leaned in close, the tip of his nose grazing her skin. "You didn't trust me," he whispered, his voice suddenly softer. "You didn't love me then." He pressed a kiss to her ear, soft and teasing, before biting down on her earlobe, his teeth sinking in just enough to make her gasp again.

A moan escaped her as his other hand slid down her stomach, fingers teasing the waistband of her high-waisted bikini bottoms, hovering just above the place where she was already dripping for him. She squirmed, hips shifting in a desperate attempt to urge his hand lower, to get him to touch her where she needed him most, but he didn't move, not yet. He was taking his time, teasing her with his control, his dominance.

His grip on her throat tightened, squeezing harder, stealing the breath from her lungs as he ground his cock into her ass again, the friction unbearable, driving her wild. His breath was hot against her ear, his words sending another shiver through her body.

"But now," he whispered, his voice thick with need, "you're mine...and I can do this."

Her heart raced, her mind spinning, trying to process everything, but she couldn't keep up. All she could feel was him—his hand on her throat, his cock pressing against her, the wetness between her legs growing more intense with every word, every touch.

"And you?" she managed to gasp out, her voice trembling.

Murtasim's lips curled into a smile against her skin. "Yours. Always," he rasped, his voice filled with possessiveness, as if the very idea of belonging to her was something he cherished. "I'd never lie about that."

Without warning, his hand left her throat, and before she could even take in a full breath, he yanked her swim bottoms down in one swift, rough movement. The fabric slid down her legs, pooling at her feet, leaving her exposed and trembling. The cool air hit her skin, and she couldn't help but shiver, the contrast between the air and the burning heat of her arousal almost too much to bear.

He pressed her harder against the wall, his body crowding her, caging her in with his presence. His fingers slipped between her legs, finding her slick and dripping for him. The moment he touched her, she moaned, her body arching against the wall, desperate for more.

"Look how wet you are," he taunted, his voice low and dark, thick with satisfaction as his fingers slid through her folds, teasing her, making her hips buck against his hand. "You love this, don't you?" he whispered, his lips brushing her ear, his breath sending shivers down her spine.

"Y-yes," she moaned, her voice barely a whisper, her mind swimming with the overwhelming sensations. His fingers found her clit, rough and relentless, rubbing it in tight, punishing circles that had her gasping for breath, her body trembling uncontrollably as the pleasure built inside her, hot and unbearable.

Her hips moved of their own accord, grinding against his hand, desperate for more, desperate for release. She was already close—so close she could taste it, her body on the edge, ready to fall apart. But just as the orgasm started to crest, just as she was about to fall over the edge, he stopped.

He pulled his hand away, leaving her trembling, aching, the pleasure stolen from her at the last possible moment. She gasped, her body shaking with the intensity of the denial.

"Not yet," he whispered against her ear. "You don't get to come until I say so."

Her body was on fire, every nerve alight, trembling with need. She was so close, so desperate, but she could do nothing but submit.

Murtasim pressed her harder against the wall, his body trapping her in place, his chest hard and warm against her back, his breath hot against her neck. His hand found her throat again, squeezing just enough to make her breath catch, to remind her that he was in charge. Her breaths were shallow, ragged, barely there, her pulse racing beneath his fingers. She had no control, no power left. She was completely at his mercy, and he knew it.

With his grip still firm around her neck, he slipped his hand between her legs again, fingers rough and unyielding as they plunged deep into her soaked pussy. The wet sound of his fingers moving inside her filled the air, mingling with her breathless gasps, her desperate moans.

He fingered her hard, fast, each thrust brutal and precise, making her legs tremble, her body arch against the wall. The squelching sounds of her wetness filled the room, the rhythm of his fingers relentless, each thrust driving her closer and closer to the edge. She could barely think, her mind lost to the overwhelming pleasure, her body shaking, her pussy clenching around his fingers as he fucked her with his long fingers.

"Murtasimmmm—ahh—oh oh oh," she gasped, her voice broken, breathless, her body trembling as he pushed her further and further, closer to the edge once again.

Meerab's legs trembled violently, every muscle in her body straining as she bucked her hips against Murtasim's hand, trying desperately to ride the pleasure he was giving her. His fingers worked her relentlessly, moving in and out of her slick heat, her breathless gasps mixing with the rough groans that escaped his lips. His grip on her throat was unyielding, keeping her pinned in place. She had nowhere to go, nowhere to escape the overwhelming sensations that threatened to tear her apart.

Her body was shaking uncontrollably, the wetness between her thighs coating his fingers, making every thrust louder, filthier. Murtasim didn't let up. He worked her mercilessly, each thrust of his fingers making her moan, making her entire body quiver as she careened toward the edge of release. She was so close now, so close she could taste it—the heat between her legs building, coiling tight inside her like a spring ready to snap. Her orgasm was a tidal wave, swelling and rising, so close to crashing over her, so close to pulling her under.

But just as she was about to fall, just as that wave began to crest, he pulled away.

Completely.

The sudden emptiness was like a slap, and her body screamed in protest, her muscles tightening, her core throbbing with unspent desire. Her mouth fell open, a sharp, desperate cry of frustration tearing from her lips as her body trembled, helpless and denied.

"Murtasimmmmmmm." She whimpered, her knees buckling slightly, her body sagging against the wall as she clung to it for support.

Murtasim chuckled behind her, the sound sending a shiver down her spine, even though her skin was burning from the heat coursing through her body. His hand was still firm around her throat, the grip not loosening in the slightest, reminding her just how easily he could control her. Every time he choked off her breath, every time he denied her release, he showed her that her body was his to command.

Her head lolled to the side, weak and trembling, and she turned slightly, trying to catch his gaze. Her lips were parted, breaths ragged and shallow, her frustration warring with the intense desire still coursing through her. She was on fire, her entire body aching for more, desperate for him to stop teasing, stop denying her the release she craved so badly.

When she finally caught his eyes, they were dark, gleaming with satisfaction, the edges of his lips curling into a smirk that made her stomach flip. He was enjoying this—enjoying watching her unravel, watching her fight the battle within herself between pride and submission.

He leaned in close, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, and his breath, hot and thick with promise, sent another shiver through her body. "I told you, you don't get to come until I let you," he whispered, his voice so commanding, that it made her thighs clench in response.

Before she could even respond, he was on her again, his hand roughly shoving her legs apart further, his fingers plunging back inside her, rougher this time, harder, faster. Her gasp was immediate, sharp, her body jerking from the sudden, overwhelming onslaught. His thumb pressed down on her clit, relentless, and the pressure made her hips buck involuntarily, her body completely overwhelmed by the sensations crashing over her.

She could barely breathe. The lack of air, the tightness of his hand on her throat, combined with the ruthless pace of his fingers, sent her spiraling. Her mind went blank, thoughts obliterated by the pleasure and the sharp, insistent ache between her legs. She was teetering on the edge again, so close to release, so close to falling apart.

But just as before, right when her body was ready to collapse into the sweet relief of orgasm, he stopped.

Completely. Again.

His fingers left her, the sudden emptiness making her sob out in frustration, tears rolling down her cheeks, her body trembling uncontrollably as she sagged against the wall, barely able to hold herself up. Her thighs shook, her pussy throbbed, the aching need consuming her whole, and the denial of her release felt like torture, her mind hazy with unfulfilled desire.

"Murtasimmmm," she gasped, her voice hoarse, barely more than a whisper, as her hands braced against the wall for support. She was on fire, every nerve in her body screaming for more, her entire being consumed by the desperate need for him to touch her again, to give her what she craved so badly.

Murtasim's grip on her throat tightened, cutting off her air once more, and his other hand grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back roughly. Her neck strained as he forced her head back, exposing her throat, making her feel even more vulnerable, more at his mercy. His breath was hot against her ear, sending shivers down her spine as he growled into her ear.

"Beg me," he snarled, a low, dangerous sound that made her tremble. "Beg me to let you come, Meerab."

She was shaking, every inch of her body screaming for release, for his touch, for the pleasure he kept denying. But even now, even with her entire body trembling with need, she was stubborn.

She bit her lip, her breaths shallow, refusing to say the words he wanted to hear. Her pride held on, clinging to the last threads of control she had, she wanted to know what he would do if she refused, even though every part of her body was begging her to give in, to submit, to beg. "No," she gasped out.

Murtasim's groan rumbled through the room, filled with unrestrained hunger. Before Meerab could even register what was happening, he grabbed her with a roughness that left no room for argument. In one fluid motion, he lifted her off the ground. Her gasp was swallowed by the sheer force of him as he carried her into the bedroom.

She barely had time to brace herself before he threw her onto the bed, her body landing hard, her ass up, knees pressing into the mattress as she struggled to catch her breath. The room spun around her, and her skin felt like it was on fire. She was completely exposed to him now.

Before she could even think, the sharp crack of his palm echoed through the room as it landed on her ass.

"Ahh!" The sting was immediate, sharp, and shocking, sending a pulse of both pain and pleasure straight through her. The pain bloomed across her skin, but instead of retreating from it, her hips arched up instinctively, her body begging for more. The shockwave of his strike sent a flood of wetness between her thighs, her body betraying her need, making her throb with desperate want.

Another slap came, harder this time. The sound filled the room, louder, sharper, the force of it making her whimper. "Murtasim..." His name escaped her lips in a breathless moan, her body trembling as the pain twisted into pleasure, mingling into something so intense it had her entire body aching. Each strike sent another wave of heat coursing through her, her skin stinging and reddening under his hand, her pussy dripping, soaking the sheets beneath her. She couldn't hold back the moans that escaped her lips, each one louder, more desperate than the last.

Between the punishing strikes, his fingers slid between her soaked folds, rubbing her dripping pussy with just enough pressure to make her gasp, teasing her clit before pulling away again. It was maddening, the way he kept her on the edge, denying her over and over, building the pressure until it was almost too much to bear.

"Look how wet you get when I do this to you," Murtasim teased, his voice rough with amusement. Another sharp slap landed on her ass, making her yelp, her skin tingling as it reddened beneath his hand. The sharp crack of the slap filled the air, and her moan followed, louder, more helpless, the pain and pleasure melding together until they were indistinguishable.

His hand tangled in her hair next, yanking her head back roughly, forcing her to arch her back, her ass still up in the air, exposed and trembling. She could feel the heat of his body behind her, his breath hot as it brushed against her neck. His lips grazed her ear, sending shivers down her spine as his voice dripped with satisfaction.

"You love it," he whispered, the roughness in his voice making her shiver, his breath warm against the shell of her ear. He was right, and the knowledge of it sent a fresh wave of need crashing through her. She gasped, her entire body shaking with how much she wanted him, how badly she needed him to stop teasing, to just take her and end the torturous game he was playing with her senses.

She whimpered, moaning softly as her body ached for him, for more, for him to stop teasing and take her completely. But Murtasim wasn't done with her yet. He wasn't finished driving her mad with need.

His fingers slid back between her legs, rough and unrelenting this time as they pushed inside her again, fucking her hard with his hand. The wet, obscene sounds of his fingers moving in and out of her filled the room, each thrust making her hips buck back against him, chasing the pleasure he was giving her.

His thumb pressed down against her clit, cruel and bruising, the pressure making her cry out as her body trembled uncontrollably. The pleasure was too much, the sensations too overwhelming. Each stroke of his fingers pushed her closer and closer to the edge, her legs shaking, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

She could feel it—her orgasm building, coiling tight inside her, ready to explode. Her entire body was shuddering, so close to breaking, so close to shattering under the relentless pace of his fingers.

"Ahh—no!" Her cry of frustration was immediate as he pulled away again, her entire body trembling violently as the pleasure was ripped away from her once again. She gasped, her face pressed into the mattress, her thighs trembling as she struggled to stay upright. She needed him—needed him to finish her, needed the release that he kept denying. It was torture, and she wasn't sure how much more of it she could take.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she heard the unmistakable sound of his shorts hitting the ground behind her.

Finally.

It was happening. The thought alone sent a fresh wave of wetness between her thighs. She could feel him moving behind her, positioning himself, his body so close, his presence so overwhelming. For just a fleeting second, his chest pressed against her back, his heat seeping into her skin, but then his hands gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her soft skin with bruising force.

Before she could even react, he slammed into her, his cock burying deep inside her in one fierce, relentless thrust.

"Ahh—Murtasimmmmm!" The scream tore from her throat, her entire body seizing as the sudden force of him split her open. The stretch of him was overwhelming, the sensation of him filling her pushing every nerve in her body into overdrive. It was too much, too intense, and her moan dissolved into a high-pitched whimper as his cock drove into her again, harder, rougher, leaving her no time to adjust.

Her face pressed into the mattress, muffling her cries, but nothing could stop the way her body shook, her thighs trembling uncontrollably as he fucked her with an unrelenting pace. Every thrust was powerful, slamming into her so hard the bed creaked beneath them, and all she could do was hold on, her fingers gripping the sheets, her moans turning into incoherent whimpers as he drove her further into madness.

Murtasim didn't hold back. There was nothing gentle, nothing soft about the way he took her—his thrusts were punishing, each one harder and faster than the last. The headboard bange dagainst the wall in time with the pace of his hips slamming into her.

His cock drove into her again and again, relentless, filling her completely with every plunge, pushing deeper, harder, leaving her gasping for air, moaning incoherently as her body struggled to keep up. It was overwhelming, the stretch of him, the way his hips pounded her into the mattress, her face pressed into the sheets, her moans muffled by the fabric. She could feel him everywhere, the heavy weight of his cock claiming her, taking everything, and she had no choice but to surrender to it.

"So tight like this," he growled, his voice rough, dripping with satisfaction. Each word was laced with hunger, a dark edge that sent shivers down her spine. His grip on her hips tightened, pulling her back into every thrust, forcing her to take him deeper, harder. She had no control, none at all, and every sharp thrust left her breathless, broken moans spilling from her lips.

"M-Mur—Murtasimmmm," she moaned, her voice cracking as her body trembled beneath him, her legs shaking uncontrollably with each thrust. Her muscles were burning, her thighs quivering as she struggled to hold herself up, but the way he filled her, stretched her, made her mind go blank, and all she could do was moan his name.

His hands gripped her hips so tightly, she knew she'd feel the bruises tomorrow. But the pain only heightened the pleasure coursing through her veins, the sting of his fingers digging into her flesh making her pulse with even more desire.

She tried to move, to shift, to gain even the smallest bit of control, but his hold on her was unforgiving. He wasn't letting her escape, wasn't letting her take any of the power back.

"Don't move," he growled, his voice low, dark, dripping with authority. There was no room for argument, no space for rebellion. He was in complete control, and she had no choice but to submit to him, to give him everything.

His hand slid up her back, fingers wrapping around the back of her neck as he pressed her down harder into the mattress, pinning her down, trapping her there. Her cheek pressed into the sheets, her cries muffled by the fabric as his cock drove into her over and over again, each thrust more brutal, more relentless than the last.

Her moans became screams—high, desperate, helpless sounds that filled the room. The pressure of his hand on her neck cut off her air again, and she gasped, choked as she tried to take it all—the pounding force of him inside her, the weight of his body pressing her into the bed, the way he owned every inch of her, claimed her completely with every thrust.

Murtasim's grip on her throat tightened even more as he leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear, the growl of his voice sending shivers down her spine. "Meerab," he rasped, his breath hot against her skin, his hips never slowing, never letting up. He fucked her relentlessly, his cock slamming into her, pushing her closer and closer to the brink.

Her body was screaming for release, every muscle tensing, every nerve on fire. She was lost in the haze of pleasure and pain, her mind spinning as she teetered on the edge.

"Beg," he growled, his hand fisting in her hair, yanking her head back as far as it would go until she was looking up at him. She had no choice but to meet his gaze, her eyes wide, pupils blown, filled with desperation. His dark eyes bore into hers, raw, possessive hunger burning in their depths.

His thrusts didn't stop. His cock slammed into her again and again, stretching her to the point of delirium. Her body was burning, her mind blank as his hips drove her into the bed, each powerful thrust making her body quake beneath him. "Beg me to let you come," he demanded, his voice a growl, dripping with dominance.

Her lips parted, a broken moan slipping out as she struggled to form words, her mind foggy from the intensity of it all. His fingers tightened in her hair, yanking her head back further, forcing her to look at him, to see how much control he had over her, how completely he owned her in that moment.

"Say it, Meerab," he growled, his hips slamming into her even harder, rougher, pushing her to the very brink of madness.

She gasped, her body trembling uncontrollably, her mind a mess of desperate need and overwhelming pleasure. "I...I...Mur-Murt—Murtasimmmmmm, pl-pleaseee," she finally managed to choke out, her voice shaky, broken. "I need..."

His lips curled into a wicked grin, satisfied by her words. "Good girl," he rasped. The approval in his tone sent another wave of heat through her, making her body tremble with even more need.

He didn't stop again. His hand gripped her hair tighter, forcing her to keep looking at him as her body trembled violently beneath him. She was teetering on the edge, so close, so desperate, her entire being focused on that one overwhelming need for release.

And then it hit her. The orgasm tore through her like a tidal wave, so powerful it stole her breath, her body seizing as the pleasure exploded inside her. But it was different this time—stronger, more intense, as if every nerve in her body had come alive all at once. Her screams filled the room, high-pitched and desperate, her body shaking uncontrollably as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her, consuming her.

Her orgasm was endless, her muscles spasming, her body convulsing beneath him. She couldn't stop, couldn't control it. It was too much, too powerful, her mind unable to process the intensity of it all. Tears streamed down her face as she sobbed, her body breaking apart beneath him, every thrust pushing her deeper into the abyss of pleasure.

Murtasim didn't let up. He kept thrusting into her, his cock pounding her relentlessly, driving her further, making her come again, and again, and again. Each orgasm stronger than the last, her body completely out of her control, every muscle trembling, every nerve on fire. She was crying, sobbing, her body was wracked with unending waves of pleasure.

And then he was there, his hips slamming into her one last time as he groaned, his release hitting him hard. She could feel him, hot and thick inside her, filling her completely as his body shuddered above her. His groans filled her ears, low and primal, his hands gripping her hips as he rode out his orgasm, his cock pulsing deep inside her.

She lay there, trembling, shaking, completely spent. She felt utterly destroyed, her body limp, her mind a blank slate, her breathing shallow and ragged.

Meerab's body fell forward, her limbs boneless, her head collapsing onto the mattress as Murtasim let go of her hair. The sudden release from his hold left her trembling, every muscle still quaking from the intense, overwhelming sensations. Her breathing was shallow, ragged, her body sinking into the soft bed beneath her, the cool sheets a stark contrast to the heat still pulsing through her. She could barely move, barely think, as her body slowly came down from the intensity of everything they had just shared.

She lay there, still shaking, her limbs heavy, as she felt Murtasim moving behind her. The bed shifted slightly under his weight as he knelt between her legs, his touch now so different—gentle, soothing, as he began to clean her up. The damp cloth between her thighs was warm, soft, wiping away the mess. Her muscles twitched as he moved, but his hands were steady, patient, and for the first time since it had begun, she could feel herself beginning to relax.

There was no rush in his movements now, no urgency, just quiet reverence as he took his time, making sure every part of her was cared for. She felt his fingers brush over her skin, the warmth of the cloth soothing the places where she was still aching, still sensitive.

Murtasim's hands then moved over her, but this time they weren't rough, weren't forceful. They were soft, careful. He started placing kisses everywhere he had been rough, his lips pressing gently against her skin. He kissed the spots where his hands had held her hips so tightly, where she knew bruises would bloom soon. His lips moved to her thighs, then up over her ass, soothing the sting left by the brutal slaps from earlier.

His lips trailed up her back, soft, sweet, like he was retracing every mark he'd left behind, every place where her skin was still tingling with the aftereffects of his touch. Each kiss was feather-light, leaving warmth in its wake, grounding her, pulling her back from the haze of their passion.

Then, without a word, Murtasim carefully rolled her over, his hands supporting her as he shifted her onto her back. Meerab let out a soft sigh, her eyes fluttering open, though she could barely keep them there. Her body was exhausted, her mind still spinning, but the moment her gaze met his, she felt a sense of peace wash over her. His face was close to hers, his eyes searching, gentle, filled with something so tender it made her heart ache.

His thumb brushed her cheek, wiping away the tears she hadn't even realized were still there. "Okay?" he asked softly, his eyes roaming her face, waiting for her response.

Meerab nodded, too tired to speak, but the small gesture was enough. His lips quirked into a small, reassuring smile, and he leaned in, pressing soft kisses to her neck, to her face. His lips brushed over her forehead, her cheeks, her jawline, leaving behind nothing but love and warmth. "I love you," he whispered between each kiss, the words soft, barely there, but they filled her up in a way that nothing else could.

She hummed softly in response, her voice a low murmur, her body sinking further into the mattress. "I know," she breathed, her lips curving into the faintest smile, the weight of his words settling in her chest.

Murtasim's lips brushed over her ear, his breath warm against her skin. "Just you, really. Always you," he whispered, his voice so sincere, so full of truth, it made her heart clench.

Meerab looked at him for a long moment, her tired eyes studying the face that was so familiar yet filled with such raw emotion in this moment. She smiled, a soft, knowing smile, and nodded, because deep down, she knew...even though the jealousy that had flared up had been very real.

Her hand lifted slowly, her fingers tracing over the strong lines of his jaw before cupping his face gently, her thumb brushing over his lips. "If you have pictures with any other girls," she whispered, her voice teasing, "let me know now."

Murtasim laughed softly, the sound low and warm, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he met her gaze. "I don't," he replied, shaking his head slightly. "I didn't even remember the ones you saw, it was just me wanting to experiment with cameras."

"Good," she said firmly, her eyes narrowing playfully before his lips found hers again, kissing her softly.

"But," Murtasim murmured against her lips, a wicked grin spreading across his face, "I really want to take a picture of you right now, like this..." His eyes glinted with mischief, his voice low and teasing. "Although I'd remember you right now without them."

"Stop," she said, laughing as she reached out to whack him lightly on the arm, knowing she probably looked like a mess.

He chuckled, his grin widening as he kissed her again, slow and sweet, his lips lingering on hers.

Murtasim chuckled, his grin widening as his lips brushed hers again, slow and sweet, the kiss lingering. Meerab felt herself sinking into the moment, into the warmth of his touch.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes softened. His thumb traced lightly over her cheek, his gaze searching hers. "Why did you react so strongly?" His voice was quieter now, a little uncertain. "I mean... about the pictures. I didn't think it was such a big deal."

Meerab exhaled slowly, her fingers curling into the sheets beneath her as she looked up at him. "Because you didn't tell me everything I needed to know," she said, her voice soft but firm, trying to put her feelings into words. "It felt like you were hiding something from me."

Murtasim frowned, shaking his head slowly. "I wasn't hiding anything from you. I'm sorry... I never meant to make you feel like that." He took a deep breath, clearly searching for the right words. "It's just... in my mind, it wasn't important. It was like a random, forgettable part of my life. Just a thing from some chapter that I haven't thought about since it happened. It didn't even cross my mind until you brought it up."

He paused, his eyes watching her carefully. "It's like... I don't know, maybe like something you'd pass by on the street years ago and forget about. You just don't think it matters, because it doesn't change anything about who you are now, or where you are. But you still passed by them on the street, and maybe if someone brings them up again, you'll remember a little."

Meerab listened, her heart softening at the sincerity in his voice. "But from my point of view," she said, her voice quiet, "it felt like there was something you didn't want me to know. Like there was something you were hiding, and that's why you didn't tell me everything."

He sighed, leaning closer, his hand cupping her cheek as his eyes met hers, full of sincerity. "No. There's nothing I've ever wanted to hide from you. You can ask me anything, and I'll tell you honestly. I just... I don't always know what you want to know because... to me, I either don't remember it all, or I don't care about it enough to think it matters."

His words hung in the air for a moment before he continued, his voice steady but thoughtful. "I told you about my friends, about the people who have mattered to me in my life. Because they matter to me. But Fariha... she never did. That's why I didn't even think to mention it—it was just this... random moment from the past that didn't mean anything. I told you about her because you asked, and I answered all the questions you had about her, you knew about her when Shahryar tried to stir the pot after meeting you."

Meerab watched him closely, his words starting to make sense. She could feel the frustration melting away as began to understand. It wasn't that he was keeping things from her, but that his mind just didn't work the same way hers did. What mattered to her wasn't always what mattered to him.

"I guess..." she started, her voice softening, "I guess my brain just works differently. Things that seem insignificant to you can feel like they matter to me. It's not that I don't trust you, but when you don't tell me everything, it feels like... like I'm left out of something important."

Murtasim nodded, his thumb brushing lightly against her cheek, his eyes still locked on hers. "I understand, I'll keep that in mind. And I'm sorry I made you feel like that. I didn't realize that not telling you would make you feel like I was keeping something from you."

Meerab's lips curved into a small, tentative smile, the tension between them dissolving as his words sank in. "Just... talk to me more, okay? Even if you think it's something small...ramble and talk a mile a minute like I do."

He laughed, "I will," he promised, his voice low and steady. "And whatever you want to know, you can ask. I'll always be honest with you, I promised you that."

Meerab nodded, her heart lighter. "Okay," she said softly.

Murtasim leaned down, his forehead pressing gently against hers. "You and me," he murmured, his lips brushing over hers once more. "Always, Meerab." His fingers trailing over her body, lingering on her neck.

Meerab groaned softly, her fingers tracing the marks she knew he had left behind. "I'm probably covered in bruises and marks," she muttered, her voice somewhere between amused and exasperated.

Murtasim's grin only grew wider. He nodded, his fingers brushing over her skin, feeling the places where his grip had been too tight, the faint sting of the bruises beginning to form.

"There are other people here, you know," she added, whacking him again lightly, though she couldn't help the small laugh that escaped her lips.

Murtasim shrugged, completely unbothered, and leaned in to kiss her again, his lips soft and sweet against hers.

She rolled her eyes, but her heart was warm, her body sinking further into his embrace as his kisses continued.

Murtasim smiled softly, leaning down to press his nose against hers, gently rubbing in that tender, playful way. The warmth of the moment wrapped around her like a blanket, and for a second, everything felt so peaceful, so sweet. His breath was soft against her lips as he whispered, "Meri jalkukdi."

The nickname tugged at a memory buried deep in her chest—their honeymoon, when he had first called her that. She had been fuming, consumed with jealousy over something that now felt trivial, and he had laughed at her. Now, the same warmth bloomed in his gaze, and it stirred something in her, both annoyance and affection mingling.

She whined, her voice soft and petulant. "Don't call me that."

But he just laughed, that rich, deep sound that always made her heart skip. His grin widened, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he teased, "You seem to get jealous whenever we leave Pakistan." He leaned in closer, pressing kisses to her forehead, to her cheeks, trailing across her face. Each kiss was light and playful, and with every touch of his lips, he murmured, "Meri jalkukdi" again and again.

"Stop!" Meerab protested, trying to push him away, but the laughter in her voice betrayed her. Her hands pressed against his chest, but her strength was gone, her body weak from everything that had happened.

Murtasim only laughed harder, his lips continuing to pepper her face with kisses, each one a sweet, teasing promise. "Meri jalkukdi," he said again, his voice lilting, teasing, as if the more he said it, the more it would stick.

She huffed. "Meri jaan," she reminded him.

He chuckled, shaking his head as his eyes met hers. "You said not to call you that just a while ago," he teased, his voice full of amusement.

"I hate you!" She whined.

"I am sure." He laughed.

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

They had just made their way back to the group when Rani's teasing voice cut through the air like a knife.

"Disappeared for two whole hours. New clothes, wet hair, bruises, and Meerab is walking with a slight limp—the make-up sex was good, huh?" Rani's words came out with a sly grin, her tone far too amused for Murtasim's liking.

"Shut up, Rani!" Meerab snapped, her face flushing bright red, quickly adjusting her hair to hide her neck.

Rani laughed, eyes twinkling with mischief, and soon the rest of the group was snickering right along with her. Murtasim caught the knowing grins from Shahzain and Saad.

Murtasim didn't bother with a comeback, it always made things worse, he just rolled his eyes and moved towards where Meesam was sitting on one of the sun loungers. She was nestled comfortably on a towel, playing with brightly colored blocks alongside Salar. The sight of his daughter instantly melted away his irritation from the teasing.

As soon as she caught sight of him, her big brown eyes lit up. She immediately abandoned the blocks, her chubby hands shooting up in the air towards him, fingers curling and uncurling as if summoning him.

"Ahhhh!" Meesam babbled excitedly, her legs kicking out wildly.

"There's meri choti shehzaadi," he cooed, bending down to scoop her up into his arms. She immediately snuggled into his chest, her little head nuzzling against his shoulder. He pressed a kiss on her soft, chubby cheek, inhaling the faint scent of baby lotion mixed with sand and sea breeze.

"Did you miss Baba?" he murmured, bouncing her gently. Meesam babbled some more, her little voice high-pitched and excited as if she had been holding a full conversation with the toys and now wanted to share everything with him. Her babbles were mostly "ba-ba" and "ga-ga," but occasionally she'd mix in an "ooo" or "aaa," making him grin.

"Meesam ate a whole banana," Dua announced.

"A whole banana?" Murtasim asked, eyebrows shooting up in amusement. He turned to his daughter, who was now playing with the collar of his shirt, tugging on it as she wriggled in his arms.

"Was it good, meri Meesam?" Meerab sang.

As if on cue, Meesam's head whipped around, her wide eyes scanning the area until they locked on Meerab. Her little arms stretched out immediately towards her mother, fingers grabbing at the air as she let out an insistent whine.

"Ah-ma-ma-ga-ga!" she babbled, bouncing in Murtasim's hold, clearly demanding to be handed over.

Meerab smiled, walking over to take Meesam from him. She pressed a soft kiss to Meesam's forehead, laughing when, as if by routine, Meesam leaned in and wrapped her tiny mouth around her nose again—her way of showing affection that never failed to make both of her parents laugh.

His gaze softened further as Meesam, seemingly content now that she had her mother, rested her cheek against Meerab's chest. But then, in true baby fashion, Meesam's hands slipped down from Meerab's shoulder and landed on her breasts, patting them with her chubby palms.

Murtasim snickered, unable to resist.

Meerab glared at him, the warning clear in her eyes. "Not a word," she said through gritted teeth.

He raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin wide. "I think she's still hungry," he teased, his tone dripping with playful innocence.

Meerab shot him another glare, but her lips were twitching with the effort of trying not to laugh.

"We be wate!" Aaminah's voice broke through the playful moment, the little girl's wide eyes looking up eagerly at Shahzain.

"We're not late yet, baby," Shahzain said with a chuckle, ruffling his daughter's hair.

Aaminah sighed dramatically, crossing her arms over her chest. "Ugh," she muttered, her lips pouting. Nearby, Salar—always ready to follow Aaminah's lead—sighed just as dramatically, flopping back down onto the sand beside her.

Murtasim chuckled, watching the two kids with a fond smile. The anticipation in the air was almost tangible—they were waiting for the bonfire to be lit. Each evening, the resort held some sort of event that everyone, including the children, could enjoy. This evening there was a beach bonfire planned along with a buffet-style feast and entertainment. There were traditional dance performances and drums—things that Aaminah and Salar were looking forward to after seeing other performances.

It took all of them longer than expected to corral all the kids—making sure they were changed into fresh clothes after their afternoon at the pool, ensuring everyone was ready for the evening ahead. By the time they made it down to the beach area where the event would be held, the sky had turned into a dusky purple, and the rhythmic beats of drums already echoed in the background, signaling the start of the night's entertainment.

The beach stretched out in front of them, lined with large bonfires, cozy seating arrangements, and buffet tables laden with food. The salty breeze from the ocean brought a mix of fresh air and the mouth-watering aroma of grilled kebabs and spices. Aaminah and Salar ran off to play with the other children that they had met earlier that week, their excited little voices carrying on the breeze.

Murtasim glanced back at Meerab, who had just settled onto one of the comfortable beach couches. Her smile was soft, tired yet content. She had Meesam bundled in her arms, the baby girl already snuggling against her, blinking drowsily as she watched the firelight flicker in the distance. Without a word, Murtasim reached down, pulling a soft blanket over them both, cocooning them from the slight chill in the air.

"Comfortable?" he asked, his voice a low rumble as he stood over them, one hand gently brushing a lock of hair from Meerab's face. Maybe he felt a tad guilty about how rough he had been earlier.

Meerab looked up at him, smiling. "Go get me good food."

He let out a quiet laugh. "Ji, Mrs. Khan," he replied with a wink, before heading over to the buffet tables where Shahzain and Saad were already loading up their plates. The smell of freshly cooked meat and spices filled the air as he moved from one dish to another, carefully selecting the best for Meerab—kebabs, some naan, fresh salads, and a few more things he knew she'd want to taste.

As he made his way back to where Meerab and Meesam were, he couldn't help but pause for a moment, just to take in the sight. His heart swelled with warmth. Meerab was playing with their daughter, holding her up in the air and then slowly bringing her back down, peppering her tiny face with kisses, over and over again. Meesam let out squeals of pure joy, her chubby arms waving in the air as her little legs kicked with excitement.

Each giggle that left Meesam's mouth was like music to his ears, and the way Meerab's eyes sparkled in the soft light made his chest tighten.

He reached them with a wide smile on his face, balancing the plates in his hands. "Here we go, Mrs. Khan, your dinner is served."

Meerab's eyes lit up as she saw the food. "That's it?" she teased, her tone incredulous.

Murtasim laughed, shaking his head as he set the plates down in front of her. "There's more, I couldn't bring everything at once," he said, amused at her reaction.

Meerab hummed happily, her lips curving into a grin as she did a little dance of anticipation. "It all looks so good."

Murtasim chuckled, leaning down to kiss the top of her head.

They began to eat, taking turns feeding Meesam tiny bites of the things she could eat—small pieces of bread, a little bit of mashed sweet potato, and small bites of fruit. Meesam, always enthusiastic when it came to food, babbled between bites, her little fingers reaching out for more. She would eagerly watch them as they took bites themselves, her eyes darting from Murtasim to Meerab, clearly wanting to taste everything they had even though she couldn't.

"She's such a little foodie," Murtasim laughed, handing her a tiny bite of naan. Meesam chewed on it happily, her eyes flicking back to the bright colors of the performers dancing near the bonfire.

The performance had begun, the rhythmic drumming and the vibrant movements of the dancers captivating everyone on the beach. Aaminah and Salar had come running back from their games, their wide eyes glued to the performers as they sat down on the sand in front of the adults, completely mesmerized by the spectacle.

Meesam, however, was only interested in the food. She'd glance at the dancers for a moment, her eyes widening at the bursts of color and movement, but as soon as she heard either Murtasim or Meerab take another bite, she'd whip her head back toward them, her little mouth opening as if to say, I want some too.

"You've got good taste, meri choti shehzaadi," Murtasim murmured, feeding her another small bite as he nuzzled her cheek, smiling as her tiny hands gripped his finger in response.

After they had all finished eating, Murtasim felt the pull of contentment settle deep in his bones. The bonfire crackled softly in the background, the smell of burning wood mixing with the salt in the air. The night was cool, but the heat from the fire made everything feel cozy, intimate.

He reached for Meerab, tugging her gently until she settled into his lap, laughing softly as she did. "Murtasim, what are you doing?" she whispered, but she didn't resist.

"Just holding my girls," he murmured, wrapping his arms around both her and Meesam, who was now cradled in her mother's arms, her eyelids growing heavy with sleep.

Meerab rested her back head against his shoulder, sighing contentedly. Meesam let out a soft coo, her little fingers curling into the fabric of Meerab's shirt as she nestled deeper into the warmth of her parents.

Murtasim pressed a kiss to the top of both their heads, his heart full.

The feeling of his familytucked so close to him made his heart swell with a warmth that was almostoverwhelming. This—this right here—was everything. His whole world.

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Author's Note: Tadaaa! So what was your favourite part? I was so close to just scrapping the saxsux in this chapter, I am still unsure about it but then I was like "whatever". Anyways, we'll be skipping ahead a couple of months again in the next chapter.