Usama was all stiff, hiding away his guitar and diary.

In the middle of the night, he exits the mansion and Maheer follows him. Through winding alleyways and deserted streets, they walked in silence, the night air heavy with the weight of unspoken words. And then in the darkness, they arrived at their destination—an orphanage adjacent to the mosque. Usama's presence seemed to illuminate the dimly lit courtyard, his gentle smile a balm to the weary souls that gathered around him. As the orphans clamored for his attention, their eyes alight with curiosity and longing, Usama's heart swelled with a sense of purpose. With a tender gesture, he gathered them close, his voice a melody that soared through the night, carrying with it the echoes of his pain and longing.

Maheer listened, her heart breaking with each note that escaped his lips, the raw emotion woven into every word to the dept. It was then that she realized why he was so silent.

It was because of her father that he was forced to marry her. He slept there on the masjid ground, and Maheer stood outside shivering in the night air when a maulvi found her, "Beta andar aajaye aise akele bahar theek nahi hai."

"Mai jaarahi thi.."

"Khaana khaakar jayega, bacchon se mulaqat karke"

She nodded her head, feeling a little guilty as she carried no cash to donate. It was a stupid move on her part.

Entering the mosque, she saw how beautifully it was painted. Looking at her awed expression, he told her,  "Ek mahine baad aayega aur bhi khoobsurat hoga Allah ki karam se iss do aur manzil khadi karenge

She looked over and read the names of the building,'Khan Anwar' she sighed. Usama had literally made his parents afterlife with the sadqah. His love for his parents, it was incomparable.

What about his love for Mahjabeen?

He gave up singing for her, 'Music meri life hai, meri dhadkan hai'

She ruled over his heart.

"Maheer?"

Usama called her name. She was out without any coat in the cold morning.

She felt a little guilty, "Woh tum aise bahar aagaye isliye mai ghabra gayi"

He passed her his coat, and she wore it. The maulvi asked. "Aap dono ek dusre ko jaantey ho?"

Usama looked at her and back at the Maulvi, his eyes reading hers.

"Ji, meri biwi hain ye"

Maulvi turned to her, "Phir beta aise bolna tha na. Mubarak ho aap dono ko, Allah khush rakhey", he removed a note from his pocket, "Areey maulvi saheb rehne dijiye

"Aise kaise mere bete ho tum. Apna farz nibhatey ho mujha mera bhi nibhaney do", the way the man said it, Maheer felt her throat clogg up. Usama had no one.

His father left him when he was barely fifteen. And he never saw his mother.  This maulvi was treating him like his own son, and Usama hugged the old man.

He blessed him and then walked away. Maheer smiled sweetly, realising Usama wasn't just kind. He was family oriented. She saw him in a new light, and Usama cared for people, so what if he didn't love her. Someday, he could see her as his wife.

She offered him her hand, "Will you show me around the orphanage?"

He was awkward but nodded nevertheless.

"Dikhadunga magar ek waada karo"

There was an edge in his voice, Maheer gulped, "Kya?"

"Agli baar mai aise raat ko bahar nikla toh tum mera picha nahi karogi"

She frowned, "Matlab tum agli baar bhi aise beech raat ko niklogey? Usama honestly ek baat bolu maine socha tha koi dr#g house hoga orphanage nhi jo tum aise nikle they"

"Nahi niklunga aaj isliye aaya... kyuki mera dam ghut raha tha", and Maheer finally realised the problem wasn't the night it was her.

"Usama, we can stay in separate rooms, it's okay..." he cut her off

"Woh baat nahi hai. Mujhe aise kabhi kabhi hota hai."

"Mujhe utha diya karo." She said, looking into his eyes, holding his hand as he sighed.

"Tum kya karogi?"

"I'll stay with you," Maheer replied softly, squeezing his hand gently. "If it helps, I'll be there for you."

She almost didn't hear him say it, "okay".

It was just one word, but this was a progress from before.

They passed by a group of kids, and they blushed when they saw her and stopped near Usama.

"Zain," Usama called out, stopping him, "padhai kaisi chalri hai?"

"Acchi chalri hai," the young boy said, Usama smiled, "Abhi sixth class mai gaye hogey na?"

"Ji bhai"

"Man lagakar padhna acche marks aaye toh tumhari pasand ka gift bhejunga".

"Sacchi?"

"Mucchi."

Seeing his soft side with the kids, Maheer's heart melted, "Ye kon hai?"

The boy whispered in Usama's ear, Usama turned to Maheer who bent down to the young boy's height offering her hand for a shake, his cheeks turned red and Maheer had the urge to pinch it.

He was an adorable munchking, "Mera naam Maheer hai"

The dimples on her cheek and friendly expression made the boy at ease who shook her hand.

"Sune aap kya mujhse shaadi karengi?"

Maheer almost awed at the little guy's proposal, and she heard a laugh, a familiar laugh. Usama was covering his mouth, holding back his giggles, the solemn expression now gone.

"Meri shaadi toh hogayi hai"

"Kisse?"

"Unse," she pointed at Usama, who made an apologetic face.

"Koi na mai aapki beti se shaadi karlunga", she laughs thinking about the imaginary daughter, as Usama sends the kid away "Jao padhai karo".

As the young boy, Zain, scampered off with a promise to focus on his studies, Maheer couldn't contain her amusement. A soft laugh escaped her lips, echoing in the courtyard of the orphanage, as she imagined the scenario of Zain marrying their hypothetical daughter.

"He's quite the charmer, isn't he?" Maheer remarked, a smile playing on her lips as she glanced at Usama.

Usama nodded, his eyes reflecting a hint of fondness. "Yeah, he's a good kid. They all are."

Usama gestured for Maheer to follow him as he led her on a tour of the orphanage. As they walked through the corridors, Usama pointed out the various rooms and facilities, his voice tinged with pride at the positive impact the orphanage had on the lives of its inhabitants.

"This is where the kids study," Usama explained, gesturing towards a brightly lit room filled with books and desks. "And over there is the recreation area."

Maheer nodded, taking in the sights with genuine interest. "It's amazing what you've done here, Usama. You've truly made a difference in these kids' lives."

Despite the chilly morning air, Maheer felt a sense of warmth enveloping her as she followed Usama's lead.

As they made their way back home, the silence between them was no longer laden with tension but filled with a newfound sense of companionship. And as Maheer hummed the melody of Usama's favorite song under her breath, she felt a sense of peace settle over her, knowing that they were taking the first steps towards their relationship if she call it that.

____

The next morning, when he woke up, he expected her knees on his stomach or her feet on his head like the usual, but strangely, it was different. When he woke up, he looked around and screamed in fright when he saw her standing all dressed up with a tray in her hand.

Finding her dolled up was scarier than her being in her minion night suit half asleep. He blinked to confirm this was indeed his wife in the baby blue suit with baby pink dupatta. He looked at her and the tray, "Tum itni jaldi uth gayi", he yawned standing up streching his biceps, the tray in her hand started to rattle as her attention went to his thick muscles.

He had no shirt on, and in broad daylight, Mahjabeen saw how toned he was. Mahjabeen’s gaze lingered, tracing the contours of Murtasim’s well-defined muscles, each one a testament to his dedication. The morning light played across his skin, highlighting the sinewy strength of his arms and the firmness of his chest. Her breath hitched slightly as she took in the sight, so different from the man she was used to seeing in the soft glow of evening.

Murtasim’s lips curled into a knowing grin as he caught her wide-eyed admiration. “Caught you looking,” he teased, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the room.

Mahjabeen blinked, her mind scrambling to process his words. “What?” she managed to utter, her voice barely above a whisper.

He stepped closer, the distance between them shrinking with each deliberate step. Mahjabeen retreated instinctively, the tray in her hands becoming a flimsy barrier between them. Just as her back hit the wall and the tray threatened to slip, Murtasim’s hands were there, steady and warm, securing the tray and her fluttering heart.

“Aaj tumhe kya hua hai?” he whispered, his breath fanning her face, sending shivers down her spine.

She tried to focus on his eyes, but her gaze betrayed her, drawing her attention once again to the broad expanse of his chest. The proximity was overwhelming, the air charged with an intensity that was both thrilling and terrifying.

“Aaj… aaj main bas…” Mahjabeen stammered, her words trailing off as she struggled to regain her composure. The tray was no longer just a tray but a lifeline in the stormy sea that was Murtasim’s presence.

Murtasim’s grin widened, and he leaned in, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "Bas kya? Tum itni pareshan kyun ho?" Murtasim’s question hung in the air, almost tangible in its intensity.

Mahjabeen’s eyes darted away, seeking refuge in the mundane details of the room. “Main… main theek hoon,” she replied, her voice a mix of defiance and vulnerability.

Murtasim’s expression softened, and he stepped back, giving her space. “Agar tum kaho toh,” he said, his tone gentle, a stark contrast to the commanding presence he had just moments ago.

Mahjabeen took a deep breath, grateful for the reprieve. She straightened her back, adjusted the tray, and met his gaze squarely.

Murtasim noticed Mahjabeen's admiration for his physique, a devilish grin crept across his face, adding an edge of tension to the moment. Sensing her distraction, he playfully called for her attention, his voice a low murmur that sent shivers down her spine.

"What's going on with you today?" he whispered, his tone teasing yet filled with an undercurrent of desire. Mahjabeen, caught off guard by his proximity, took a step back, the tray trembling in her hands. Her breath hitched as she struggled to maintain her composure under his intense gaze.

Just before she could stumble, Murtasim swiftly closed the distance between them, his strong arms reaching out to steady her. The touch of his warm skin against hers sent a jolt of electricity through Mahjabeen, her heart pounding in her chest.

With a nervous laugh, Mahjabeen placed the tray on the table, her hands trembling ever so slightly. She tried to meet Murtasim's gaze, but her eyes kept drifting down to the sculpted muscles of his chest, exposed in the morning light.

"Why are you acting so differently today?" Murtasim's voice was filled with curiosity as he watched Mahjabeen's reaction. She took a shaky breath, trying to steady her nerves as she took a sip of her tea.

In a bold move, Mahjabeen finally spoke up, her voice barely above a whisper. "Can I take your picture?" she asked, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. Murtasim's grin widened, his eyes dancing with mischief.

"Why not?" he replied, his tone suggestive as he leaned in closer. "But what will you do with it?"

A surge of adrenaline coursed through Mahjabeen as she met Murtasim's gaze, her heart racing with anticipation. "I'll post it on Facebook," she said, her voice gaining confidence with each word. "So everyone can see how handsome my husband is."

Murtasim's laughter filled the room, a rich sound that made Mahjabeen's heart swell with warmth. "Well, in that case," he said, his voice husky with desire, "you better capture my best angles." With a wink, he motioned for her to follow him to the gym, leaving Mahjabeen feeling breathless with anticipation.

The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow on Murtasim's sculpted form. Mahjabeen stood there, her hands slightly trembling as she held the camera, capturing the man she had only dreamed could exist outside of silver screens. The muscles of his arms bunched and released with each repetition, a mesmerizing dance of strength and control. She found herself lost in the rhythm, the sound of the weights clinking a soundtrack to her admiration.

"Murtasim mai bhi tumhari tarah fit hosakti?" She found herself asking.

His laughter was a melody that danced through the air, "Of course, tum bilkul fit ho sakti ho," he said, his voice a mix of mirth and promise.

"Will you train me? Aaj se?" Mahjabeen's voice was a whisper, a mix of hope and excitement.

Murtasim's response was immediate, his nod accompanied by a smile. "Abhi se," he affirmed, and with a gentle hand on her back, he guided her to his room.

The gym clothes hung loosely on her, the fabric whispering against her skin with every movement. Murtasim's scent lingered on them, a comforting presence. He disappeared for a moment and returned with a pair of sports shoes from Neha's room. "Ghar jayenge toh tumhe shopping karaunga," he declared, his voice firm yet tender.

Mahjabeen's frown was quick, her practicality surfacing. "Kya zaroorat hai? Neha se kuch dinon ke liye jutey maang lungi."

But Murtasim wouldn't hear of it. "Tum meri biwi ho, you deserve new things, things that are your own." His words were not just a statement but a vow, a commitment to give her the world.

As she sat on the bed, struggling with the laces, a sense of inadequacy washed over her. At home, Adam had always been the one to tie them for her. Her fingers fumbled, the task seemingly monumental in that moment.

"Lau do," Murtasim's voice was soft, yet it carried the strength of mountains. He knelt before her, his hands skillfully taking over. The laces bowed to his touch, forming perfect loops and knots. Mahjabeen watched, getting different kinds of butterflies.

With her shoes now secure, Murtasim stood and offered her a hand up. "Chalo, let's begin," he said, his grin infectious. Mahjabeen's hand in his, she felt a surge of strength.

The sun had barely risen, but the day was already brimming with a new challenge for Mahjabeen. Clad in Murtasim's gym attire, she stood on the track, her breaths quick and shallow. The first lap had been nothing short of a battle, and she felt every muscle in her body protest.

"Nahi hoga mujhse, rehne do," she panted, her voice laced with defeat. "Tum fit ho, utna kaafi hai mere liye." She looked up at Murtasim, her eyes pleading for mercy.

Murtasim, however, was not one to let her give up so easily. He tilted his head, a playful challenge in his eyes. "Pakki baat hai?" he asked, his tone light yet encouraging.

She nodded vigorously, her breath still catching in her throat. "Haan, pakki baat," she managed to say between gasps.

Murtasim crouched down beside her, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Toh phir, aam waale ped par chadhne ka plan cancel?" he teased, referring to their earlier adventure.

Mahjabeen's eyes widened, and a spark of determination reignited within her. "Nahi, woh toh karna hi hai," she shot back, her competitive spirit suddenly flaring up.

Murtasim chuckled, standing up and offering her a hand. "Chalo, ek deal karte hain. Agar tum aaj pura session complete kar leti ho, toh main tumhe aam waale ped par chadhne me help karunga."

Mahjabeen's gaze shifted from Murtasim's outstretched hand to the track ahead. She knew it wasn't going to be easy, but the thought of climbing the mango tree was tempting.

"Thik hai, deal," she agreed, taking his hand and allowing him to pull her upright.

By the end of the session, Mahjabeen was exhausted but exhilarated. She had completed the workout, and now the mango tree awaited. As they walked towards it, Murtasim's arm around her shoulders, she couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. She had pushed through her limits and was tired, her muscles locked, and she fell down embarrassingly. Murtasim turned over and looked at her, "Mere per mai kuch hogaya hai."

He got down the tree and knelt towards her,  "pehli baar tha na aaj isliye dard hora... dheere dheere aadat hojayegi".

He knew this would happen. He would often get muscle cramps, so he had brought the spray with him. Rolling her tracks to the knees, he sprayed it on her leg, "Thanda thanda hai," she commented as he massaged it on her knees.

He was massaging her leg when she remembered her mother. What would she say if she found out Murtasim was massaging her leg.

"Tum na dabao," she said, trying to pull her leg out of his grasp. She didn't want to, but she had to.

"Mai dabadeta huna"

"Nahi ab dard nhi hai,"

"Mahjabeen itne jaldi khatam nhi hota hai, mujhe bhi cramps aa chuke hai pehle", looking at his eyes, she gave up her inhibitions and passed him other leg, "Phir ye wala bhi dabado".

He rolled his eyes and took her other leg. She sighed, "Bada accha dabate ho yaar, bachpan mai bhi kisiko dabate they kya"

Mahjabeen’s question caught Murtasim off-guard, and for a moment, he just stared at her. “Haan, bachpan mein Abbu ka hi pair dabata tha,” he said with a nostalgic smile. “Woh kehte the, ‘Dekhte hain tum kitna der pair dabasakte ho mera.’ Aur main wahaan subha tak baitha rehta tha.”

His smile faded a little as he continued, “Unse bohot pyaar karta tha, magar unke liye kuch kar nahi paaya. Unko aakhri baar galey lagakar maafi bhi nahi maang paaya.”

Mahjabeen’s frown deepened, her curiosity piqued. “Kis baat ki maafi?”

“Baba nahi chahte the ki main padhne jau… apni zid se gaya tha. Khudgarz ho gaya tha,” Murtasim confessed, a hint of regret in his voice.

Mahjabeen placed her hand on his cheek, her touch gentle. “Tum padhne ke liye gaye the?” she asked, her voice soft.

He nodded, and she had to stop herself from giggling. She had never seen anyone feel guilty for pursuing their education. “Allah, pehli baar maine kisi ko padhai ke liye guilty hote dekha hai,” she thought, her lips twitching with suppressed laughter.

Murtasim caught the look on her face and raised an eyebrow. “Kya hua? Tumhe mazak lag raha hai?”

“Nahi, nahi,” Mahjabeen quickly composed herself. “Bas, soch rahi thi ki tum kitne achhe ho. Padhai ke liye bhi itna sochte ho.”

Murtasim looked up from her leg, a mock frown on his face. "Haan, toh? Education is important, but so is family," he said, trying to sound serious but the twinkle in his eye gave him away.

"Tum nahi dabati thi apne Abbu ka pair? " Murtasim asked.

"Haan, par jab thak jaati thi toh Billu, hamara padosi ka kutta, ko apni jagah rakh deti thi. Abbu mazey mai ye sochte they bacchi ne puri raat pair dabaya aur agli subha mujhe inaam ki taur pe 100 rs miltey they"

Murtasim burst into laughter, imagining a dog giving a paw massage to Bakhtu. "Aur Billu ko kya milta tha?" he asked.

"Billu ko mai biscuit khareed kar deti thi aur main chupke se ice cream khane chali jati thi," Mahjabeen replied, joining in his laughter.

The moment was light and full of joy, the earlier tension dissolving into shared amusement. Murtasim looked at Mahjabeen, his heart swelling with affection for the woman who could turn even a simple story into something so delightful.

"Chalo, ab aapka pair theek hai, toh mango tree climbing competition shuru karein?" Murtasim suggested, helping her to her feet.

"Kaash meri jagah Billu rehta, aaram se jeet jaati mai", he rolled his eyes at her, holding back a smile.

"Billu nahi toh mai huna".

Mahjabeen blinked, the energy between them shifting palpably as he took her hand in his, bringing it gently to his lips. The wind played with her hair, casting it across her eyes, and he tenderly brushed it aside. Her eyes, wide and alarmed, met his, "Kya hua?" she asked, sensing a change in his demeanour.

His gaze was intense, his intentions clear as they locked onto her eyes. His hand moved to the back of her neck, "Tum itni pyaari ho," he murmured, caressing her soft cheek with the back of his hand. His brown eyes, deep and expressive, seemed to capture her every time. Her pink lips, that cute button nose, everything about her held his attention.

Her breath hitched as his dark brown eyes stayed on hers, "Meri aankhon mai dekho," he urged. She shook her head, a shy refusal on her lips, "Nahi dekhogi?" he teased.

"No," she whispered back, her cheeks blooming with a rosy tint. A smirk played on his lips as he leaned back, his hand resting against the mango tree, "Mera naam toh lo na."

She frowned slightly, "Murtasim?" she responded, unsure if that was what he wanted. She felt a twinge of disappointment when he stepped back, missing the warmth of his closeness, the comfort of his presence.  

"Tum choti si thi hum dono aam k ped pe baithe they jab tumne mera naam liya tha," she smiled at him, "Isliye naam lewana tha" her playfulness in the air, she pulled at his collar so that their eyes were just inches apart. he could see his reflection in hers. Mahjabeen could only see those dead pools and his nose. and she wondered why it looked so romantic in movies. Her nose was touching his, their breaths mingling when she parted her lips and whispered his name, "Murr.."she drawed out his name as if it was an enchantment, hypnotising him, as if casting a spell with those endless honey eyes of hers. "Tasim... ".    

She smiled her eyes twinkling proud of the effect she had on him, there was a glint in his eyes, she pulled away but before she could stand, he pulled her wrist so she fell back into his lap. they were on the grass under the mango tree. She felt softness on her cheek, and her eyes widened, Murtasim was kissing her cheek. his lips stayed there, a smirk on his lip. "Can you kiss me like that?"

The air was thick with the scent of mango blossoms as Murtasim's lips lingered on Mahjabeen's cheek, a touch so tender it was as if he was whispering a secret to her skin. Her heart fluttered like a caged bird, each beat echoing his name. The world around them seemed to pause, holding its breath as the moment unfolded.

His hand, still on her wrist, was a silent anchor in the storm of emotions that raged within her. Their bodies were close, so close that she could feel the warmth radiating from him, enveloping her in a cocoon of safety and desire. The feelings that coursed through her were a maelstrom, swirling with the intensity of a love that had been simmering just beneath the surface.

Her eyes, wide with a mixture of surprise and wonder, met his, and for a moment, time stood still. Her mouth hung open, a silent invitation, a silent plea. The tension between them was a living thing, a force that neither could deny nor ignore.

Murtasim's voice broke the silence, his words a soft caress against her ear. "Tumhe pata hai, jab bhi tum mera naam leti ho, toh mere dil ki dhadkan ruk jati hai," he confessed, his breath warm against her cheek.

Mahjabeen's cheeks flushed a deeper shade of rose, her breath catching in her throat. "Murtasim," she whispered back, her voice a melody that played upon the strings of his heart.

He smiled, "Aur jab tum muskurati ho, toh lagta hai jaise puri duniya mein bas tum hi ho ," he continued, his gaze locked with hers.

She lightly smacked his head, Murtasim frowned, what just happened.  He blinked and saw her running towards the tree, climbing it, "Tumhe lagta hai mujhe baaton mai phasakar jeet jaogey?"

He never had the thought but his instincts kicked in and he started to climb after her, she was blocking his way.

"Sabse uche waaley jhaad pe chadte hai"

He tried to stop her, "Mahjabeen jhaad tut jayega"

"Aur tum har jaogey", she thought he was playing with her and climbed higher. He could either follow her up or stay guard below the tree, but the chances were if she fell he could miss her. So he decided to follow her, "Mahjabeen patli waali par mat baitho".

"Kyuki tum waha nhi baith sakte?"

Was she on a suicide mission? He was frustrated as he held her hand, and what he feared happened as soon as she put her weight on it, the branch collapsed and she screamed hanging onto his hand. 

"Murtasim!!!! Haath mat chodna warna mai girjaungi", she was terrified, Murtasim's heart pounded in his chest as he held onto Mahjabeen's hand, her fingers gripping his tightly as she dangled precariously from the branch. He could feel the strain in his muscles as he fought to keep her from falling, his mind racing with the urgency of the moment.

"Mahjabeen, mai girne nahi dunga," he reassured her, his voice firm despite the fear that gnawed at him.

As Mahjabeen's fingers clung desperately to Murtasim's, her knuckles turned white with the intensity of her grip. Her breath came in short, panicked gasps, her chest rising and falling with each heartbeat as she dangled precariously from the branch. Her eyes, wide with terror, searched his face for reassurance. Was she going to die? Or worse she would live her life with a broken leg...

"Haath mat chodna chod diya toh mere haath per tuth jayenge aur langdi lulli hojaongi. Phupho ko toh mai aisehi nhi acchi lagti agar per tuth gaya toh ghar se nikaldengi woh".

He didn't whether to laugh, hold on or reassure her. "Mahjabeen mujhe hasao mat warna dono langde lulle hojayenge". 

"Phir toh jodi badi kamaal ki hogi ", she would have hi-fied him if they weren't in the middle of nowhere.

"Mahjabeen, abhi mat hasao! I can either hold you or my laugh" Murtasim called out, his voice tinged with urgency as he tried to imagine them on wheelchair which wasn't funny.

"Hum dono hi langde lulle hogaye toh ghar kaise jayenge issi ped k nichey aam khatey khatey mar jayenge..."Mahjabeen's eyes widened even further at the thought, her grip on Murtasim's hand tightening reflexively. "Kaash koi aur sa ped chadhte! Mai zindagi bhar aam nhi khaaskti" she exclaimed.

But as the branch creaked ominously beneath them, Murtasim knew that they couldn't afford to linger in their precarious position for much longer.

Murtasim's muscles tensed as he felt the weight of her body pulling against him, the strain evident in the flex of his arms as he fought to keep her aloft. His breaths were slow and measured, his heart pounding in his chest as he focused all his strength on maintaining their precarious balance.

With a trembling hand, Mahjabeen reached out to him, her fingers brushing against his chest before wrapping around his waist in a desperate embrace. She buried her face against his shoulder, seeking refuge in the warmth of his body as she clung to him with all her might.

Murtasim could feel the softness of her cheek against his skin, the warmth of her breath mingling with his own as they sat together on the swaying branch. His arms encircled her slender frame, holding her tightly against him as if he could shield her from the dangers that lurked below.

They sat there for a moment, catching their breath, the adrenaline of the near-miss still coursing through their veins. Murtasim looked at Mahjabeen, her eyes wide with shock, her cheeks flushed with color. In that moment, he realized just how much she meant to him, how he would do anything to keep her safe.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly, his voice tinged with concern as he brushed a stray strand of hair from her face.

She nodded, her eyes shining with gratitude as she leaned into him, seeking comfort in his arms. Although she was talking, the fear of dying or getting hurt had taken over a second ago. They stayed like that for a while, wrapped in each other's arms. Eventually, the tension of the moment dissipated, replaced by a sense of camaraderie and shared relief. Murtasim reached up to pluck a ripe mango from the tree, offering it to Mahjabeen with a smile.

"Let's eat," he said, his voice light with laughter as they settled back against the trunk of the tree, their legs swinging idly in the breeze. And as they bit into the sweet, succulent fruit, the taste of mango mingling with the taste of victory, Mahjabeen knew that he would always be there to catch whenever she fell.

____

Whenever I try to write an angsty part, it turns into fluff with these two. Help😶‍🌫️

One year to Filmoh ki tarah❤️

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