Flowers bloomed in the early spring, as a woman dressed in blue kurta that was too long for her sat on a swing. The entire balcony was adorned with roses, a man stood on the side watching her as she would laugh and speed up the ride by her feet.

The woman stopped the swing and peeked at the man with those innocent eyes of her. "Murtasim aap jhula de?", she called his name coquestishly. In a year his wife had drove him completely crazy, he loved her antics, her laugh and her anger. He loved how her eyes would light up whenever their eyes made contact, he lazily walked towards her. And behind the swing, she looked up at him, his beautiful dark brown eyes appeared almost black as he gazed at her softly.

With a teasing smile, he asked, "Again, Maho? Don't you ever get tired of swinging?"

She pouted playfully, "No, never! And you're not supposed to be tired of swinging me either, Mr. Photographer!"

Murtasim chuckled, "As you wish, my moon-faced beauty."

"Maho", he called her name with love, she hummed in response as he swinged her slowly moving along with the swing.

"Ab log mujhe sachme tumhare naam se jaantey hai... MJ photo studio", he whispered making her chuckle, Mahjabeen had gifted him a photo studio beside her art gallery and kept the original logo of her art gallery on it. The poor girl mistook wild life photographer as a normal one. But Murtasim didn't mind, she had invested a month in setting up the studio and finally surprised him with the shop.

He gently started pushing the swing, and she grinned with joy, her hair dancing in the breeze. "Faster!" she exclaimed, enjoying the exhilarating ride.

He complied, pushing her a bit faster, but he noticed her hand on her belly. "Be careful, Maho. Don't overdo it with the baby bump."

She rolled her eyes dramatically, "Oh, please, I'm not that fragile! But alright, slow down a bit."

Murtasim lovingly gazed at her, "You're carrying our precious little one. I want to take every precaution."

As the swing slowed down, she stopped and looked up at him. Her beautiful dark brown eyes appeared almost black as she gazed at him softly. "You're too sweet," she said, her voice full of affection.

He leaned in and kissed her eyelids, causing her to close her eyes, her lips curving up in anticipation. He then kissed her cheeks, and a rosy hue spread across her cheeks, making her even more adorable.

"There's a small bump on your stomach, my love," Murtasim said gently, his hand caressing her belly. "Three and a half months already, and you still refuse to wear pregnancy clothes?"

She grinned mischievously, "Why wear those boring clothes when I can stake a claim over your wardrobe, just like you've done over my heart?"

He couldn't help but laugh at her response. "Fair enough, my dear. You can wear whatever you like."

" Mai thak gayi", she whined, he was swinging too slow and that was triggering her nausea.

He stopped the swing and helped her down bringing her sandal, he bent down and helped her wear it. She loved how he pampered her, she placed her arm around his shoulder and jumped down the swing.

"Khaana khaaogi?" he asked out of habit, his wife ate every two hours but the amount was too minimal.

"Haan... Raza ko boldenge kakdi aur achaar bhejwa dene"

She leaned against him, her head resting on his shoulder. He nodded, "Yes, I'll ask Raza to get them for you."

Murtasim walked to the kitchen, instructing Raza about the food. He then prepared a steaming bowl of noodles for Mahjabeen, making it soupy and nutritious for her and their unborn child.

As Mahjabeen enjoyed her noodles, she playfully pouted and said, "Murtasim, these noodles are good, but they would be even better if you fed them to me." She giggled, knowing well that her husband couldn't refuse her request.

Murtasim chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "Of course, my princess," he said, picking up a forkful of noodles and gently feeding her. "Anything for my queen's happiness."

Mahjabeen pretended to be a little upset, "Murtasim, the noodles are so tasty that I need a special chef just to cook for me!" She added with a grin, "And you're the one who has to take up this role."

With a loving smile, Murtasim replied, "Consider it done, Your Highness. I shall be at your service as your personal chef from now on."

As the evening breeze picked up, Mahjabeen shivered slightly and looked at Murtasim, "I'm feeling a bit cold, Murtasim. Can you get me a blanket, please?" she asked sweetly.

Murtasim immediately went inside and brought a soft, warm blanket, carefully wrapping it around her shoulders. "Is that better, my love?" he asked, making sure she was comfortable.

Mahjabeen leaned back against him, "Much better. But you know, I could use a foot massage too," she teased, knowing that Murtasim never said no to her.

Murtasim chuckled, "You really know how to keep me busy, don't you?" He sat down and gently massaged her feet, relieving the tiredness and making her feel pampered.

Mahjabeen grinned mischievously, "You're spoiling me, Murtasim, and I love it." She looked into his eyes, "But don't forget, you'll have to do this every night now!"

Murtasim pretended to ponder, "Hmmm, well, if it keeps my queen happy, then I'll gladly do it every night, and even during the day if you wish."

Mahjabeen playfully hit him on the arm, "Oh, you're impossible! But I wouldn't have it any other way."

As the night deepened, Mahjabeen felt a sudden craving for ice cream. "Murtasim, my dear, could you please go out and get me some ice cream? I promise it's the last demand for tonight."

Murtasim smiled, "Alright, ice cream it is. I'll be back in a jiffy."

He left to fulfill her craving, knowing that her happiness meant the world to him. Mahjabeen watched him go with a heart full of love, grateful for the wonderful man she had by her side - a man who always cherished her and fulfilled her every wish with a patient demeanor and boundless affection.

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