A/N: Thank you everyone for all your love for the last chapter, I loved reading through your comments! This one is a transitional chapter before we meet Meerab and Murtasim at 23, 36 – where they'll get married, hehe. After that, we'll check in with them at different ages and wrap the story up in a few chapters. Hope y'all like this chapter! I know some of y'all don't enjoy MBK's POV, I get that but I love it,  feel free to skip the chapter!

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Under the moon's theatrical spotlight, Murtasimbakri, the goat with a penchant for drama, was lounging on Human Mom's balcony when she spotted Human Dad making a stealthy approach.

She perked up, her tail whipping back and forth. "What now? What did she forget in his car this time?" Murtasimbakri mused, her inner monologue dripping with sass.

Ever since she'd caught Human Mom and Dad in an intense session of what she could only describe as competitive face-licking, Murtasimbakri's life had spiraled into a romantic soap opera. Only, this one featured less backstabbing and more forgetfulness on Human Mom's part.

It appeared that such enthusiastic human "grooming" sessions led to a peculiar side effect: acute amnesia. Human Mom had turned into a magician of sorts, conjuring a never-ending array of items only to leave them behind in Human Dad's car as if casting breadcrumbs for him to follow back to her.

These episodes of forget-and-retrieve had transformed into their own bizarre ritual of courtship, leaving Murtasimbakri baffled. In the animal kingdom, such rituals were straightforward—headbutts, bleats, and a display of prowess were enough. Yet, here she observed an intricate dance of forgetfulness and return that had been going on for weeks, a human mating ritual filled with subtleties and nuances far beyond the straightforward affections of goats.

Each time Human Dad returned a forgotten treasure, it was as if he had won a grand prize, earning him a date with Human Mom. This routine seemed to thrill Human Mom to no end, her joy bubbling over like a poorly supervised goat with unrestricted access to the human-trapping-box.

The aftermath of these reunions was a sight to behold. Human Mom would return, floating on cloud nine, her happiness so contagious that even the stuffed animals seemed to smile wider. She'd hug Sher, the stuffed lion with the audacity to hog all the cuddles, her laughter ringing through the night like a melody. And then, turning to Murtasimbakri, she'd share that infectious joy with gentle strokes and whispered sweet nothings, as if Murtasimbakri hadn't been judging the whole charade from the sidelines.

Despite spending the entire day in Human Dad's company, they'd still end the night with hours-long phone calls, just as they did on days Human Dad did not visit. Human Mom had been on the phone with him just earlier, lamenting about her long day, and how much she missed him.

"And here he is again, summoned by the siren call of love," Murtasimbakri thought, as Human Dad crept towards the house.

Watching him, Murtasimbakri couldn't help but swoon a little herself. The dedication! The romance! It was enough to make her tail wag in spite of herself, her heart swelling with a mixture of envy and delight. "Ah, to be human and in love," she sighed from her front-row seat on the balcony.

As Human Dad approached, a single rose in his hand, Murtasimbakri could hardly contain her excitement. She bleated softly in greeting, and Human Dad responded with a shhhh as he grabbed the pipe to climb up.

As Human Dad, with a rose clutched in his mouth like a swashbuckling hero from Murtasimbakri's favorite movies, attempted to scale the wall, Murtasimbakri bleated out what she imagined to be encouraging words. "Bravo, brave Human Dad! Human Mom awaits!" she bleated happily.

Human Mom, upon hearing the commotion, emerged on the balcony, her laughter tinkling like the melodious soundtrack of a romantic scene, causing Murtasimbakri to wag her tail more vigorously, as if keeping beat with an unseen dholak.

"Khan Murtasim Khan, scaling pipes on a regular now, are we?" Human Mom teased, her eyes dancing with mirth. Murtasimbakri wondered if that is how Human Dad had been magically appearing in Human Mom's room for weeks, he was always just there when Human Mom let her out of her bathroom.

"Should I go back?" Human Dad grunted between breaths, his attempt at humor nearly costing him his grip.

"No, I missed you," Human Mom replied, her voice softening, a tender confession that floated down to where Murtasimbakri stood, oh, her human parents were the cutest!

Just as the moment seemed to reach its cinematic peak, the neighbor's dog, Tommy, a vigilant guardian against nocturnal trespassers, decided to make his presence known, barking furiously as if auditioning for the role of the antagonist in this love story.

"Intruder! Intruder! Handsome intruder scaling the walls!" The dog barked, his canine duty overtaking any sense of the romance.

Human Dad groaned as Human Mom started jumping nervously, "hurry up!" she said as Tommy kept barking.

Murtasimbakri, patience wearing thin, bleated a stern "Shut up, you walking megaphone!" hoping to silence the furry alarm and save the moment. "He's not an intruder, he's a lover! Have you never watched Romeo & Juliet, you uncultured hound!" she yelled, her bleats filled with frustration.

"Shhh, you're going to wake up the whole house!" Human Mom said to her, trying to push her inside the room.

Murtasimbakri scoffed, she was trying to help them! "He's allowed here, look at him, Tommy, does this handsome man look like an intruder to you? He has a rose in this mouth, not a crowbar" She bleated at Tommy.

Tommy barked back, "then why is sneaking in like that? Why not use the door?"

Murtasimbakri groaned, bleating loudly, as if she was a human love guru teaching a toddler, "Oh, you uncultured, bark-happy canine! It's about the gesture, the effort! Anyone can use the door, sneaking in is...it's poetic!" She explained, her frustration growing as she realized that explaining the nuances of human romance to a dog was perhaps her most challenging audience yet.

Tommy, the dog with a head tilt so pronounced it could signify deep thought or just a severe ear infection, paused his security alert system. "Huh?" he seemed to say, the canine equivalent of a blinking cursor, not quite ready to download the concept of romantic gestures.

Meanwhile, the scene had descended into what could only be described as a silent film comedy, sans the silence. Human Dad, gripping the pipe with the desperation of a man whose romantic plans were hanging by a thread (literally and figuratively), looked more like a burglar caught in the act than the dashing hero he aimed to be.

Human Mom, ever the supportive leading lady, leaned over the balcony with a mixture of concern. "Go back to the car, I'll open the backyard door later?" she offered as she reached down in a vain attempt to assist, her hands fluttering in the air like an ineffectual butterfly.

The house's lights flickered to life, illuminating the scene with the harshness of a spotlight on a stage, turning Human Dad's covert operation into the night's main spectacle. If neighbours peeked out through their curtains, they would witness a tableau vivant of domestic comedy: a man clinging to a pipe, a woman half-leaning out of a balcony, and a goat and dog debating the merits of romance below.

With a dramatic sigh that would have earned him accolades in any drama, Human Dad aborted the mission, tossing the rose up to the balcony where it landed at Human Mom's feet, a single, romantic gesture salvaged from the night's escapades.

As he made his comical retreat, Murtasimbakri turned to Tommy, "See what you've done? You've ruined the romance!"

Tommy, looking somewhat sheepish, responded, "Maybe next time he can bring a ladder. Less drama, more practical."

Murtasimbakri just bleated in exasperation, realizing that some audience members simply couldn't appreciate the depth of a good love story.

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Murtasimbakri Khan, perched regally in the backseat of the new moving metal beast her Human Dad fondly called a "Range Rover", observed her human family. The journey to the Human Chidiyaghar was underway, a mission to sway the Buddi Bandariya, the biggest thorn in the side of Human Mom and Human Dad's relationship.

It was more riveting than any soap opera she could binge-watch when she pressed the black and red button on Human Mom's remote. The suspense was so intense that she wanted to turn the lush seats into her personal chew toy—if only Human Dad hadn't slapped that muzzle on her.

Really, what was she seen as? Some uncultured, slobbering hound? A Tommy?

She lifted her head, visibly annoyed by the car's unusual silence. In the absence of Bipolar Lawman and Confused Aatma, her Human Mom and Dad would usually fill the air with chatter and laughter.

Oh, how Murtasimbakri cherished those moments when her human parents engaged in their delightful dance of flirtation. It was like watching a romantic show directed by nature itself. The way Human Mom would bat her eyelashes at Human Dad, and he'd puff up like a proud rooster, always sent her into a fit of giggles.

She remembered feeling a flutter in her stomach, similar to when she spotted a particularly lush patch of grass—pure excitement! This display of affection made her leap and prance around the back seat, embodying the essence of a love-struck goat witnessing the pinnacle of romance.

But now she was cramped, unable to prance around, sitting between Human Mom and Confused Aatma in the back. The car's atmosphere was thick with unsaid words and stolen glances between Human Mom and Human Dad, their love an open secret to everyone but themselves.

As Bipolar Lawman, no longer hindered by his aids, cleared his throat for what seemed like the hundredth time, a subtle dance of avoidance played out again. Human Dad's eyes, which had been glued to Human Mom's reflection in the rearview mirror, suddenly found interest in the road ahead, while Human Mom, her cheeks a soft shade of pink, pretended to be captivated by the world outside her window.

Murtasimbakri couldn't help but roll her eyes. If only Bipolar Lawman and Confused Aatma knew of the countless nights Human Mom and Human Dad spent curled up in bed together after Human Dad snuck into her room, whispering sweet nothings and engaging in occasional licks.

It was no secret to her.

Staring, it seemed, was amateur hour compared to their nocturnal escapades.

She wondered what Bipolar Lawman would think if he knew what happened when he and Confused Aatma left the house for a few days. Like clockwork, Human Dad would appear, whisking Human Mom away for dates filled with her favorite treat, golgappas.

Bipolar Lawman would have passed out from clearing his throat if he too caught sight of Human Mom and Human Dad sneaking around, especially when Human Dad pressed Human Mom against the side of the house to lick her until they were both breathing hard.

Yet, humans, with their complex emotions and social rituals, were blind.

Their naivety, blindness, and sheer lack of observation provided Murtasimbakri with a front-row seat to a love story that, despite its attempts at discretion, was as clear as day to anyone paying attention. Even Tommy, with his limited canine intellect, knew.

In the world according to Murtasimbakri Khan, the humans might have been the ones walking on two legs, but it was she who saw the world with clearer eyes.

The cycle continued, of Human Mom and Human Dad staring at each other through the mirror, then Bipolar Lawman clearing his throat, and them looking away.

All until Confused Aatma spoke, "let them be, Waqas."

Even with their own quirks, they showed a surprising depth of support for the love saga between Human Mom and Dad, unlike the Buddi Bandariya, whose opposition seemed as stubborn as a goat refusing to move from the middle of the road.

In the grand theatre of the Human Chidiyaghar, Murtasimbakri, ever the silent observer, watched as the drama of human emotions unfolded before her. Her keen goat senses, finely attuned to the nuances of human folly, found the proceedings both bewildering and immensely entertaining.

The scene was set with Buddi Bandariya expressing her vehement opposition to the union of Human Mom and Human Dad. Her words, filled with the weight of tradition and expectation, fell upon the ears of a determined Human Dad. His response, calm and unwavering, cut through the tension like a knife through butter. "I don't care, Meerab is the only woman I will marry," he declared, his voice echoing off the ancient walls of the haveli.

Oh, her Human Dad was like a hero of all tales!

Buddi Bandariya's incredulity was palpable. "My opinion means nothing?" she scoffed, her disbelief turning into a tirade about lost opportunities and unmet responsibilities. "You will not marry her, Murtasim. You've already lost such a good rishta in Asma. You're not living up to your responsibilities. You're a feudal lord, not just anyone."

Buddi Bandariya really needed a new Chidiyaghar.

It was Human Mom who spoke, her voice steady, yet tinged with a hint of sadness. "You've never liked me, you've made it very obvious throughout the years...even when I've tried to be what you want me to be, I've never understood why I threaten you so much. You don't care for me, fine, I am not worried about it anymore. But Murtasim is your son, don't you care for his happiness?" Her question hung in the air, unanswered, as the Buddi Bandariya remained silent.

Hopefully permanently silent.

Human Mom continued, with a voice louder and more determined than ever, confronting Buddi Bandariya and Ghaafil Gadhha, accusing them of pushing Human Dad into a life he never wanted. "He's telling you that he loves me. You've seen him struggle, rather than helping him, you and his uncle, who are supposed to care for him, pushed him into something he didn't want. When he found a way out, rather than supporting his happiness, you're more concerned about what he can do for you?" she declared, her words echoing off the walls.

Oh, this was better than any television scene she had seen!

Ghaafil Gadhha, a picture of cowardice, cowered in the background, his usual bluster nowhere to be seen.

Buddi Bandariya, ever the antagonist in Murtasimbakri's eyes, snapped back, "is that how you talk to your elders?"

In that moment, Murtasimbakri couldn't help but bleat disdainfully at Buddi Bandariya, her imagination vividly picturing the woman and her accomplice taking an involuntary leap off a steep cliff.

Human Mom, undeterred by the snap, retorted with a recount of the years of mistreatment she endured, her words sharp and cutting. "And have you reflected on how you've spoken to me all these years? How horrible you've made me feel? It was so bad that your own son thought it was necessary to keep me away from the Haveli and you...and you're the reason he'll leave, not me," she argued, her voice laden with the weight of suppressed emotions.

Murtasimbakri wailed alongside her Human Mom, mourning the pain inflicted upon her by the household's machinations.

"He's leaving because you told him to!" Buddi Bandariya, in a feeble attempt to deflect, yelled.

Human Mom clarified, "I didn't ask him to, he saw how toxic you've made this place. He's leaving for us, he's leaving for his happiness, which you clearly don't see because you're still standing there validating all his reasons for leaving because you've always made it clear that I don't belong here despite his wishes."

The room fell into a heavy silence, Buddi Bandariya rendered speechless, her usual retorts swallowed by the undeniable truth of Human Mom's words.

Human Mom, her voice trembling with emotion and years of pent-up frustration, turned her ire towards Ghaafil Gadhha, her words sharp and unforgiving. "And you, you've done nothing all these years," she lamented, her voice a crescendo of disappointment and resolve. "You told me that you're my father, plopped me here every summer, and then ignored me. I don't care anymore, and I didn't expect you to care for me or take a stand for me. But after your brother passed away, you were supposed to take care of things and help Murtasim. Where are you on most days? Why does Murtasim have to carry the burden of all of this alone? Where were you when he was struggling? When the villagers thought him too young and he needed you? Where were you when the Maliks started revolting? You say he's your heir, that you've seen him grown up and love him, but you abandoned him just like you abandoned me."

Murtasimbakri, in her corner, imagined Ghaafil Gadhha tumbling down a cliff, a fitting end, she mused, for his years of inaction.

As Human Mom's outburst continued, as if she was letting go of words she had held onto for years, laying bare the selfishness she perceived in those around her, Murtasimbakri couldn't help but think of creative mishaps for Buddi Bandariya too—perhaps a misstep into a pit or a sudden, unintended flight off a balcony – for she made her Human Mom cry.

"You're all so utterly selfish! Especially you two. I don't know how you managed to raise a man like Murtasim, who puts the needs of people who don't even deserve it before his. And for once in his life, he's standing here, asking you –" she pointed at the Buddi Bandariya "-to support something that makes him happy and you won't? So, your ego is more important than your son's happiness?" She cried out.

Each word from Human Mom painted a picture of a family torn by ego and neglect, and Murtasimbakri found herself oddly invested in the human drama, her goatish heart siding with Human Mom and Dad.

Buddi Bandariya said nothing, she just exited the room in silent defeat.

The air seemed to shift, leaving behind a heavy silence.

Human Mom's whispered realization, "She's never going to come around," felt like a somber note in an otherwise chaotic melody.

Murtasimbakri entertained quite the dramatic thoughts as the humans deliberated. Imagining the Buddi Bandariya's unfortunate tumble into a well brought a mischievous glint to her eyes.

However, plotting was interrupted as Ghaafil Gadhha sighed, lamenting how Human Dad's defiance had stirred the pot. "Bhabi is used to getting her way, this is the first time Murtasim hasn't done what she's asked, so she blames you for it," he said, earning himself a starring role in Murtasimbakri's daydream.

She wondered whether Ghaafil Gadhha's sighs might be more bearable if he were really, accidentally, nudged off a cliff.

Confused Aatma's resignation, "We can't just keep trying to convince her," was met with Murtasimbakri's silent nod, her agreement coming with visions of Ghaafil Gadhha lost in a maze, forever chased by an irate chicken.

Bipolar Lawman, ever the voice of caution, suggested a waiting game. "Give her until the case against Murtasim is dropped."

But Human Mom, impatient and hopeful, countered, "Baba, you know it will be dropped, so why-" only to be cut off.

"I will not have my daughter marrying someone who could be labelled a murder." Bipolar Lawman retorted, standing in the way of Human Mom and Human Dad's mating.

Murtasimbakri, listening, bleated her disapproval, clearly thinking he could use a good scare—perhaps finding his bed mysteriously relocated atop the roof. Murtasimbakri snapped her teeth in his direction. If only headbutts were a universally accepted form of argument resolution among humans.

The back-and-forth continued. "You know as well as we do that legal matters take time, Yusuf Ali promised it'd all be dropped, things have been changing, the Malik cousins are in jail and the case - "

"-has not been dropped yet, which means there is still a chance he could go to jail." Bipolar Lawman kept his stubborn stance.

Human Mom's exasperated sigh and Human Dad's resigned head shake were the only responses.

In this household, it seemed, drama was as much a staple as fodder was in Murtasimbakri's diet. And as the human saga unfolded, Murtasimbakri couldn't help but wonder if their lives wouldn't be significantly improved by adopting a goat's straightforward approach to problem-solving: when in doubt, headbutt.

It was all up to her.

Murtasimbakri, with the finesse of a seasoned spy, embarked on a covert mission, leaving the humans to their tiresome discussions. Her target, none other than the notorious Buddi Bandariya, stood unsuspectingly by the pool, a sitting duck for Murtasimbakri's cunning plan.

Creeping through the garden, Murtasimbakri employed the stealth of an elite ninja goat, her every step calculated to avoid detection. She approached her target with the precision of a predator, her shadow merging with the garden's foliage. Then, at the opportune moment, she unleashed her battle cry—a bleat so sudden and fierce it could have awakened the ancients—and charged with the might of a thousand goats.

The collision was epic, a spectacle of fur, fury, and flailing limbs as Buddi Bandariya's scream pierced the air, her body flailing in a cartoonish arc before splashing into the pool. The water erupted in a geyser of surprise and indignation, leaving Buddi Bandariya floundering amidst waves of her own creation.

Bipolar Lawman, spared by virtue of his contributions to Murtasimbakri's gastronomic happiness, stopped in his steps as he ran out, his earlier intentions of reprimand forgotten in the face of such hilarity. Meanwhile, Ghaafil Gadhha, in a rare moment of usefulness, scrambled to rescue Buddi Bandariya, his efforts as clumsy as they were earnest.

She charged again, sending the Ghaafil Gadhaa over the edge of the pool where he stood to try to help.

The aftermath was a scene of chaotic glee, with Human Mom attempting to scold a clearly self-satisfied Murtasimbakri. Despite her stern words, the corners of Human Mom's mouth betrayed her true feelings, curling into a reluctant smile. "You're a bad goat," she admonished, though the sparkle in her eyes spoke of pride in her rebellious charge.

In that moment, Murtasimbakri wasn't just any goat; she was a legend, a furry agent of chaos whose daring poolside assault would be whispered about in hushed tones by all who witnessed it.

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In the heart of a night cloaked in whispers and moonbeams, Murtasimbakri found herself tucked away in her cozy nook within Human Mom's room in the Human Chidiyaghar, chewing on blades of grass that she had managed to sneak in. The soft thud of footsteps drew her attention to the moonlit window. Her ears perked up as she caught sight of Human Dad, sneaking into Human Mom's room with the stealth of a cat on a mission.

"Murtasim!" Human Mom whispered sharply, a tone usually reserved for when Murtasimbakri decided the shoes in her closet were her personal buffet. "Everyone is in this house!"

Murtasimbakri had to admit, amidst her chewing on a particularly juicy blade of grass, that Human Dad indeed had guts. His casual shrug in response to Human Mom's alarm was something out of the human-trapping-box where she got to view countless lives. "So?" he said, his nonchalance battling the tension in the room, as if he were discussing the weather rather than their imminent discovery.

Human Mom's worry was palpable. "If they find you here, they'll - " she fretted, only to be cut off by Human Dad's cheeky interjection, "Get us married still." His grin seemed to light up the room, even in the dim moonlight, as if he had found an unguarded patch of four-leafed clovers.

Despite herself, Murtasimbakri felt a bubble of laughter building inside her. Human Mom's response, a mix of a swat and a hug, seemed to Murtasimbakri like the human equivalent of head-butting in affection.

"Come, I have a surprise for you," Human Dad whispered, his voice a soft melody in the silent night. Murtasimbakri's ears twitched in anticipation. Surprises from Human Dad often meant delightful treats for her too, perhaps more fresh bouquets of flowers to munch on or a new, intriguing scent to investigate.

However, Human Mom's concern seemed unshaken. "Murtasim, someone is going to see us," she warned as they moved toward the door.

Human Dad's assurance, however, was as solid as the ground under Murtasimbakri's hooves. "It doesn't matter, they all know we love each other," he professed, a declaration so heartfelt that Murtasimbakri found herself swooning.

"They'll keep us apart until the wedding happens," Human Mom voiced her fears, pulling him back with a gentle tug.

"No one can tell me to stay away from you, you're mine, forever," Human Dad's words made her jump in her spot.

Murtasimbakri couldn't help but admire the man's courage. It reminded her of the time she decided that Confused Aatma's bed was now hers, a declaration met with much less enthusiasm.

Human Mom's playful whack and her exasperated "you're impossible," only added to the charm of the moment.

Human Dad, armed with the logic of a seasoned goat outwitting a fence, had his defense ready. "Listen. If it wasn't for your Baba insisting that the case be dropped completely before we get married, we'd be married by now, and they all know it. So technically, the fact that I have to sneak you out of here is all their fault," he reasoned with the air of a philosopher, albeit one prone to midnight escapades.

Her admiration for Human Dad's cleverness was as boundless as her appetite for hay.

As they tiptoed like ninjas (if ninjas were prone to romantic gestures and wore slippers), Murtasimbakri couldn't help but follow, intrigued by the unfolding drama.

The rooftop terrace, usually a place of contemplative chewing, had been transformed into a scene so dazzling it could make a goat consider a career in interior design. Human Mom gasped, the terrace alight with fairy lights that twinkled like stars fallen to earth, and flowers that perfumed the night air. Amidst this wonderland lay a bale of hay, not just any hay, but the pièce de résistance for any goat with discerning taste.

Murtasimbakri's bleat of joy was a symphony, expressing more eloquence than words ever could. She danced around Human Dad's legs, a thank you wrapped in affection and the slight hope he'd drop a flower or two. Then, with the grace of a queen approaching her throne, she made her way to the bale, her feast awaiting. Tonight, she wasn't just any goat; she was Murtasimbakri, the goat of the hour, dining under the fairy lights, part of a tale of love, laughter, and the kind of mischief only a goat could truly appreciate.

As she chewed, Murtasimbakri found herself witnessing a display of human affection so intense, it was like watching a live performance of "Romeo and Juliet" without the tragedy—or the humans knowing she was there.

Every time Human Mom and Human Dad cuddled closer, pressing into each other's side and sharing secretive whispers and laughter, Murtasimbakri's heart did a little leap. "They are SO cute," she thought, her goat eyes almost rolling back in delight. The licks they shared, not just mere tastes but tokens of love, made her wonder if somewhere out there, there was a goat Romeo to her Juliet.

Recalling the last time she was up on the terrace, with Human Mom in tears, fearing the absence of Human Dad's love, only for him to find her, with the same love-laden gaze that would melt even the iciest of goat hearts, and carry her back to her room. Murtasimbakri had known it then, and the scene before her now was proof positive—love was always in the air, even if sometimes it took a nosedive into a pile of drama.

Unable to help herself, Murtasimbakri would occasionally turn away, her cheeks—if goats had cheeks that could blush—flushed with the intrusion of privacy.

Yet, curiosity and an innate love for love's sitcom pulled her gaze back, time and again, to the lovebirds.

Watching Human Dad play with Human Mom's hair, showering her with kisses that sparked giggles and an infectious warmth, Murtasimbakri couldn't resist.

She wiggled with glee, chewed her hay more enthusiastically, and thought, "Oh, how she loved love!" It was a cycle of peek-a-boo fueled by a goat's insatiable appetite for heartwarming human antics, proving that even a goat couldn't look away from true love's display.

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As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, Murtasimbakri watched with curiosity and excitement as Human Dad's visits to Karachi became more frequent.

The discussions between him and Human Mom often revolved around papers and pictures of a house they were building— it was to be Murtasimbakri's future kingdom.

Her ears perked up at the mention of the vast expanses of grass at the front and back of the house, a veritable buffet for her discerning palate. Human Dad's declaration that she would be the sole lawnmower he'd employ filled her with pride. Not only was the grass all hers, but she also landed her first job! She couldn't wait to tell her siblings of the enviable career she was about to embark upon!

One sunny afternoon, Human Dad joined her on the grass near her little house outside Human Mom's residence. He seemed different somehow, his movements jittery, his palms sweaty.

Her curiosity piqued, Murtasimbakri did what any self-respecting goat would do: she investigated. Her nose, a seasoned detector of all things intriguing (and potentially edible), led her to a mysterious bulge in Human Dad's pocket. Could it be? A hidden snack, perhaps? With the enthusiasm of a treasure hunter, she lunged for a taste.

Human Dad's laughter filled the air, a sound of amusement and mild panic, as he gently thwarted her culinary exploration and retrieved a small box from his pocket. To Murtasimbakri's dismay, the box seemed disappointingly inedible, a revelation that prompted a dramatic, goatly sigh.

However, her interest was piqued again when Human Dad revealed the box's contents—a sparkly object that screamed "NEW FOOD!" in her mind. Despite her attempts to taste this tantalizing new treat, Human Dad kept it just out of reach.

"You think she'll like it?" Human Dad inquired, clearly misunderstanding Murtasimbakri's interest. She pondered, how could she assess its appeal to Human Mom without a taste test? After all, the true worth of anything lay in its flavor, did it not?

Human Dad's laughter echoed through the air as he clarified, "It's not food, it's a ring!"

A ring? The human symbol of readiness to mate? This could only mean one thing: HER HUMAN PARENTS WERE GOING TO FINALLY MATE!

Murtasimbakri's excitement knew no bounds; she started hopping up and down, barely able to contain herself.

Human Dad shushed her gently, his voice tinged with nerves. "I didn't like anything at the store, so I got this one made for her. She likes round stuff, right? All her earrings and necklaces have round stones. I hope she'll like it...and say yes." His eyes sparkled with the same intensity as the custom-crafted ring he held, a testament to his dedication to detail and Human Mom's preferences for circular bling.

Murtasimbakri bleated in response, her way of assuring Human Dad that Human Mom was definitely going to say yes. After all, who could resist such a thoughtful, round, sparkly token of love that looked like the yummiest of food!

"She doesn't know it yet, but the case has been dropped, I told her parents we'd get married in the summer, Maa has agreed too, and the house is almost done, the interior and exterior, the kitchen, the bathrooms, all of it." he beamed with excitement that rivaled Murtasimbakri's enthusiasm for a fresh patch of grass.

"I thought it made sense to propose there...at our new beginning, don't you think so?" he mused, the ring now a secret between him and a goat with surprisingly discerning tastes.

Murtasimbakri, ever the supportive confidante, bleated her approval, a sound that in her mind translated to a resounding "Yes!"

"You know, sometimes I wonder if you really do understand everything," Human Dad chuckled, his gaze softening as he petted her.

Murtasimbakri, with the pride of a goat who had mastered the art of human observation, nudged him back.

Of course, she understood; she was no Tommy, she was a smart goat—humans were the ones who struggled with cross-species communication.

"You think she'll say yes?" he pondered aloud, uncertainty coloring his tone.

But before Murtasimbakri could offer another bleat of encouragement, Human Mom appeared, lemonade in hand, unwittingly stepping into a moment thick with anticipation.

"Yes to what?" Human Mom inquired, her curiosity piqued.

"To getting Murtasimbakri a boyfriend," Human Dad quipped, a sparkle of mischief in his eyes.

Murtasimbakri's reaction was as immediate as it was comical. She bleated with a fervor that shook her from hoof to head, her imagination galloping wilder than a goat on a mountain trail. Visions of a dashing caprine suitor filled her thoughts, a partner in crime to share in the endless escapades, the feasting on lush greens, and perhaps, in time, the pitter-patter of tiny hooves—a dreamy prospect that had her jumping with joy. Human Mom and Human Dad's children needed their own goats after all!

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A/N: Sooooooo, what was your favourite part? In the next chapter(s), we'll get the proposal, wedding, and wedding night. And then we'll see them with their kids over the years too!