The night was like a blanket full of tiny lights, and it was the last evening Murtasim and Mahjabeen would spend in their little village. Murtasim felt a twist in his stomach because he didn't want to leave; the village had never felt so calm and full of life before. It was like a secret spot where he could breathe easily. He pulled Mahjabeen up to the rooftop to share the view of the endless sky with her.

Mahjabeen joked, looking up, "The moon's gone shy because it saw you," making Murtasim laugh. Her words were light and teasing, and they made the night feel even more special.

As Mahjabeen talked about the stars, Murtasim couldn't help but watch her face. He saw the soft blush on her cheeks when she realized how close he was. She turned to him, a bit embarrassed, and said, "If you keep looking at me like that, I'll start blushing."

Murtasim's laugh was loud and happy, showing all his teeth. When Mahjabeen called him "gudda", he pretended to be upset. He didn't really mind; he just wanted to see her reaction. "I'm not your doll," he said, trying to look annoyed.

They sat side by side, and Mahjabeen slowly reached out to touch his hand. Murtasim noticed and waited to see what she would do. They started nudging each other, gently at first, then harder, until they were both laughing so much that Murtasim almost fell down the roof.

"Mahjabeen, you're too much!" he said. "First, you push me off the bed in the morning, and now you're trying to push me off the roof at night!"

She quickly said sorry, holding her ears and blinking fast, looking so sincere that Murtasim couldn't stay mad. He kissed her hand gently, and she moved closer to him, resting her hand on his back. Murtasim leaned back, letting her come closer, and Mahjabeen's smile showed she felt like she had won a small victory.

"Mai jab choti thi na tab mai shayar banna chahti thi," he blinked his eyes, remembering her that phase where she would sing things instead of talking, "Sunaonaa", he insisted.

As she looked at the stars,her voice trailed off into a whisper, her eyes alight "Aise nhi aati, shayari bolne k liye kuch hona chahiye na (Shayari doesn't just come to me; it needs inspiration)," she teased, her gaze locked with his.

Murtasim's heart raced as he drew her hand closer, pressing it against the steady thump of his heartbeat. "Mai aisa karta hu toh kuch hota hai? (Does this stir something within you)", he asked, his voice a low rumble.

She feigned indifference, her head tilting in denial, but the corners of her mouth betrayed her, curling into a reluctant smile. "Kuch nhi hota (Nothing)," she whispered, yet her eyes danced with unspoken words.

He chuckled, the sound rich and warm, and cupped her face gently. "Ab? (And now)" he probed, his thumb tracing the softness of her cheek.

The heat from his palm seared through her, yet she shook her head once more. "Haath hi toh hai, kuch hota hai? (It's just a hand; can it truly move the heart)," she challenged, her voice barely above a breath.

In response, she mirrored his gesture, her hand resting upon his cheek. Murtasim's breath hitched, a silent gasp escaping him as her touch sent ripples through his senses.

Mahjabeen watched, fascinated, as his eyes softened, the intensity within them shifting, deepening. "Aakhein misbah jaisi hai, chuh ti hu toh chamak jaati hai (Your eyes, they're like the stars at dusk—touch them, and they sparkle)," she murmured, lost in the moment.

"Why don't I feel the same electricity?" she pondered aloud, her fingertips grazing his shoulder.

Murtasim feigned a jolt, his playful shout echoing between them. "Ahhh..." His theatrics drew a look of wonder from Mahjabeen, her eyes wide with disbelief.

Could her touch truly hold such power? The thought emboldened her, and she wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling herself closer until their breaths mingled, their noses brushing in a tender dance.

"Kya kar rahi ho? (What are you doing?) " Murtasim's voice trembled, laced with a nervous energy.

"Kuch hora abhi? (Do you feel anything now)" she inquired, her voice a soft caress, her eyes searching his.

But the world had blurred into insignificance; all he knew was her, the warmth of her breath, the gentle rub of her nose against his. "Do you feel the spark?" she persisted.

He shook his head, lost in the haze of her proximity. "No," he breathed out, his voice a whisper.

She nudged her nose against his once more, a silent question hanging in the air between them. "Now?"

The softness of her touch, the warmth of her breath, and the proximity of her body were overwhelming. Murtasim felt a shiver run down his spine, his heart racing faster than ever. He swallowed hard, his voice barely audible. "Abhi bhi nahi (Still nothing)," he murmured, though the tremor in his voice betrayed him.

Mahjabeen smiled, a knowing glint in her eyes. She leaned in even closer, her lips just a breath away from his. The air between them crackled with unspoken emotion, a silent electricity that seemed to pulse with every heartbeat.

"Murtasim," she whispered, her lips brushing against his as she spoke, "kab tak mana karoge? (How long will you deny it?)"

His resolve melted away, the last vestiges of his composure slipping through his fingers. He closed the distance between them, his lips capturing hers in a tender, hesitant kiss. It was as if time stood still, the stars above witnessing the union of two souls who had finally found each other.

Mahjabeen's hands moved to cradle his face, her touch gentle yet firm. Murtasim wrapped his arms around her, pulling her even closer, deepening the kiss. In that moment, the world outside their rooftop disappeared, leaving just the two of them in a cocoon of shared warmth and burgeoning love.

When they finally broke apart, breathless and wide-eyed, Mahjabeen's cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkling with joy. "Kuch hota hai (Something does happen)," she admitted softly, her smile radiant.

Murtasim chuckled, his forehead resting against hers. "Bohot kuch hota hai (A lot happens)," he agreed, his voice filled with awe and wonder.

_____

It was time to return to the haveli. Mahjabeen was her bright self, but Murtasim, for some reason, didn't want to face the truth, the lies, the betrayal. Every step they took seemed to push their relationship further into a realm of destruction. He thought about it so much that he began to believe Mahjabeen was wrong. But in those lies, in her wrongdoings, he could see his family's own wrongdoings. All of this was wrong, fake, but he was happier in this fake life compared to his real life.

He never thought marital life could be this fulfilling, this loving. He had seen his father's misery and considered it as a normal marriage. But now that he had experienced something far superior to marital bliss, something that made his heart flutter, something that made him want to be his real self, he wanted to live in her lies. It was his safe haven. He wanted to live in her world, to look into his reflection through her eyes, to find himself in her.

What he viewed as weakness was strength in her eyes... and now he could understand why. The fire in his heart, the constant hollowness, all of it disappeared when she smiled. That smile of hers filled the scars of his heart, so when she smiled he couldn't look away.

When he was with her, he felt like he was just Murtasim—not a Khan, just Murtasim. Or in her words, her Gudda. With her, his world was too full to talk about the rest of the world. With her around, he was unable to see anything other than her. It was just her and him.

____

When they returned back home, they saw Maheer and Usama sitting in the garden as he played his guitar it was almost like old times, the same song, but their was a little intimacy between them, their legs were touching and they were sitting close. Usama, who noticed the two of them, smiled brightly and waved, "Bhai!"

He called them over, "baithye, Bashar uncle ka call aaya tha, unhoney kaha suite, gaadi aur travel agent sab unhoney book kardiya hai. Shaam ko nikalna hoga".

Honeymoon... "Usama tum aur Maheer chaley jao, abhi Ammi ko akela nhi chodh ke jaaskta yaha".

Usama nodded his head, "Ye baat toh theek hai magar aap jaantey haina unko.  Aap hi mana kardein".

Nobody wanted to deal with Bashar's temper. Just then, Asif walked in the garden, "Kise mana kardein?"

"Honeymoon ki tickets book ki hai Bashar uncle ne," Usama replied, and Asif turned to Murtasim, "Tum kyu nhi jaarey?"

"Ammi akeli hojayengi..."

"Tumhari Ammi ko mai sambhal lunga, tum log jao enjoy karo", He said with a smile. Murtasim, who had his own inhibitions, gave in.

Asif left with the two couples, one on the swing and the other on the grass, listening to Usama playing the guitar.

The way he sang, the pain in his voice made Mahjabeen realise how different it was from hers. She had faced the occasional bullying, parents' neglect, and forced marriage saga, but she could never direct those emotions into her poetry or singing. But when Usama sang, she could feel his sadness, the type Adam called 'Dukhiar Aashiq' waali awaaz.

"Mahjabeen tum shayari acchi likhti ho magar itna khushi khushi dukh bhari shayari bologi toh kaha accha lagega. Shayari se zyaada shayar ki awaaz mai dukh hona chahiye", Adam would say, and where was this dukh?

"Kitabein nhi padhti kya Mahjabeen. Jo tumhari filmein hein waha kya hota?"

"Lakda aata hai ladki ko bachaata hai dishoom dishoom aur phir saathme milkar woh log gaana gaatey hai", Adam shook his head, "Ghalib ki shayari mai aur tumhari shayari mai kya farak hai?"

"Hein?" She frowned. She couldn't understand where he was going with this, "Ghalib ghalib hai, aur mai Mahjabeen hu. "

Adam's head started aching, "Har shayar ka dil tuth ta hai, unko takleef hoti hai, tab dil se jo alfaaz nikalte hai usse shayari kehte hai."

"Ab mai dil kahase tudwao?" Adam laughed at her face, "Beta itni pyaari rahogi toh koi dil nhi todega tumhaara."

Mahjabeen bit her finger, "Allah mera bhi dil ek baar tod de."

When Murtasim was busy on the phone call, Mahjabeen caught up with Usama, "Tumhara dil kisine toda hai kya?"

Usama, who was holding the guitar, looked at her and slowed down his brain. He didn't want to think about her. He didn't want to look at her. It felt as if cheating on Maheer. But he liked her too much.

He pressed his lips together, "Haan."

"Kaise?" She asked, her excited eyes looking at his slightly dull ones.

"Ishq karta tha mai usse," Mahjabeen frowned, Usama was married to Maheer, and he loved someone else. She could relate to him on this because Murtasim, too, was in love with Maheer.

But she didn't go through the heartbreak. There was no pain in her heart, no dull look in her eyes. She was lively, chirpy, her usual self, the fact that Murtaism loved Maheer didn't bother her.

Did she not love Murtasim?

She had cried because of teachers because of her parents, but for love...

Ishq... she wanted to fall in love with her husband.

"Usama ye ishq kaise karte hai?" He gave her a side eye, "Google karlo", and walked off.

And that's what she did.

She ventures a website of wooing but instead of male it's female and she started following the tips of how a man should woo a woman on her husband bimistake. "Pehle aap unke liye kayi saarey phul laye, aapke partner ko phul zaroor pasand hongey. Dusra step, unko pyaare naam se pukaree Jaan jaanu jaaneman. Teesra unke liye humesha darwaza kholiye, chauhta unko god mai uthaney ki koshish karey, sabko princess treatment accha lagta hai".

---

Mahjabeen was determined to follow the steps she found online, hoping they would help her fall in love with Murtasim. She began with the first step: bringing flowers. That afternoon before they left, she surprised Murtasim with a bouquet of vibrant blooms, holding them out to him with a bright smile

"For you, Gudda," she said sweetly, offering the flowers.

Murtasim raised an eyebrow, clearly puzzled but touched.

"Phool mere liye? (Flowers for me?)" he asked, taking the bouquet from her hands with a bemused smile. Mahjabeen had spent an hour in finding the best flowers for Murtasim.

Mahjabeen nodded enthusiastically. "Haan, socha tha ke tumhe pasand aayenge (Yes, I thought you might like them)."

Murtasim looked at the flowers, then back at her, his expression softening. "Shukriya, Mahjabeen. Bahut khoobsurat hain (Thank you, Mahjabeen. They’re very beautiful)."

Murtasim realised he liked getting flowers from her, he liked getting pampered.

Encouraged by his response, Mahjabeen moved on to the next step. She started calling him affectionate names the entire plane ride to Bali. "Jaan," she called out one morning, "woh dekho baadal".

Murtasim blinked, slightly taken aback by the endearment. "Uh, haan (Uh, yes)", He couldn't resist saying,"Pehle gudda bulakar meri jaan li thi aur ab jaan jaaneman bulakar kya karneka iraada hai?"

"Kuch nhi. Chalo tumhe gudda hi bulaongi, waise bhi tum guddon jaisa muskuraate ho" she said playfully, making him smile despite his confusion.

Step three involved always opening doors for him. Mahjabeen made a point of getting to doors first and holding them open with a flourish, at airport, at the taxi, at the hotel. At one point the hotel staff took him for a handicap and brought in a wheelchair, he got looks from the taxi driver but he couldn't afford to stop his cheerful wife. Maheer was giggling and Usama regretted suggesting her to just google it because everytime she said "Aapke liye, Jaaneman (For you, darling)," she'd say it with a wink, Usama would die of jealousy and Murtasim would blush red.

Murtasim started to notice her unusual behavior but found it endearing. He decided to play along, curious about what she would do next.

The fourth step was the most challenging: attempting to lift him like a princess. So, when they reached the sea, Mahjabeen approached Murtasim with a determined look. "Aaj mai tumhe godh mai uthaungi (Today, I will lift you)," she declared.

Murtasim burst out laughing. "Mahjabeen, ye mumkin nahi hai (Mahjabeen, that’s not possible)," he said, still chuckling.

But Mahjabeen was persistent. She tried to lift him, straining and puffing, until they both collapsed into laughter, on the beach water. Murtasim pulled her into a warm hug. "Tum puri ki puri bawli ho (You are really something else)," he said fondly, holding her close.

Mahjabeen finally told him why she was doing so, "Tumhe kisi rule book ki zaroorat nahi, bas tum jaisi ho waisi raho (You don't need any rule book, just be yourself)."

Mahjabeen looked at him, her eyes shining, "Mujhe tumhare qaabil banna hai".

He leaned in and kissed her gently, sealing their bond. "Aur wo tumho," he promised.

"Trust me".

____

A/n: I know I have been saying this since the last five chapters and delaying the angst but I just want them to be happy before I wreck it all😭 and I know this would make it more painful but I just can't change the story anymore. I wrote some of the updates and I was sobbing while writing it so be ready ;)

And this is a tragedy.