Meerab's breath hitched in her throat as Murtasim steered the car through the wrought iron gates, the familiar crunch of gravel under tires marking their entrance into a transformed realm. Her eyes widened, her pulse quickening at the sight before her - the house, their house, stood completed, a sight she hadn't prepared herself to witness today.

The last time she had been here, the structure was a skeleton of ambitions and dreams, surrounded by the chaos of construction. Now, it was as if someone had breathed life into the very bricks and mortar, the driveway smooth and welcoming, the mud of weeks past a distant memory. The landscaping was no longer sketches on paper but lush, vibrant greenery that framed the house beautifully.

Meerab couldn't peel her eyes away from the spectacle before her. The house sparkled like a gem under the sun. As the car came to a gentle stop in the newly paved driveway, she turned to Murtasim, her eyes wide with astonishment and delight. "I thought it was going to take another few months?" she echoed her surprise.

"I might have expedited some things," he admitted with a proud grin that spread across his face.

"Murtasim!" she exclaimed, unable to contain her joy. The sight of their house, nearing completion far sooner than expected, felt like a tangible manifestation of their future together. It was a future she had dared to dream of but had hardly believed would come to fruition so vividly, so beautifully.

As she took in the grandeur of their new home, Meerab felt a profound connection to the place. The house stood as the perfect counterpoint to the Khan Haveli, embracing the two-storied modern design that had caught her eye during the planning phase, a stark contrast to the traditional haveli. Yet, it somehow captured the essence of a home that was welcoming and warm, with the white stucco walls, kissed by the sun, complemented the earthy tones of the natural stone.

The entrance was an invitation in itself, an imposing door framed by glass panels that teased the secrets of the interior. The upper story, a parade of windows, each one a promise of rooms bathed in light and warmth. This house was warm and filled with light, a far cry from the cold, imposing structures Meerab had known. It promised freedom, a space where dreams could unfold and take flight.

The lush lawns that stretched out before them whispered of days spent under the sun, of laughter and joy, of a life filled with moments both big and small. It was more than just a house; it was a foundation upon which they would build their dreams.

As Meerab's gaze lingered on the house that Murtasim had brought to life for them, she felt a profound sense of belonging. Meerab's heart swelled to the point of overflow, tears brimming in her eyes as she took in the carefully prepared flower beds in the front yard, spaces eagerly awaiting the burst of color from flowers Murtasim had promised would be there.

"Itna bura hai?" Murtasim's voice broke through her reverie, laced with playful teasing as he caught sight of her emotional state.

The floodgates opened as she turned to him, a laugh that sounded suspiciously like a sob escaped her as she shook her head, unable to find the words to express the depth of her feelings. "I love it," she managed to say, her voice thick.

Murtasim's response was immediate and tender. He stretched his arm across the console, his hand gently cradling her face, his fingers delicately wiping away the tears that traced her cheeks. "Me too," he whispered, his voice a soft echo of her emotional tumult. "Wait until you see the inside."

Her heart leapt at his words. "It's done too?" she asked, barely able to contain the surprise in her voice.

He nodded, a proud smile tugging at his lips. "Of course, the only thing missing is furniture."

"Is this why you've been so busy lately?" she inquired, her heart swelling with gratitude and love for the man beside her.

He nodded.

"How many more workers did this take?" Meerab inquired, her mind racing back to her last visit to the property, the memory of unfinished rooms, construction supplies and materials, and unattended details vivid in her mind. The acceleration of progress, from that image to the reality before her, was staggering.

A look of mild exhaustion passing over his face as he admitted to the effort it took. "A lot," he sighed before smiling. "Sit right there for a second," he instructed, a spark of excitement in his eyes.

As Murtasim leaped out of the car and hastened to her side, Meerab's laughter bubbled up, a light, infectious sound that filled the air. Watching him move with such eagerness, she couldn't help but notice how exceptionally handsome he looked that day. His beard was neatly trimmed, framing his strong jawline, and his hair fell just right, giving him an effortlessly charming look. The tailored black suit he wore clung to him in all the right places, accentuating his physique, making her heart skip a beat at the sight of him. He was much too handsome for her heart to react to him normally.

He opened her door with a flourish, extending his hand to help her out.

"Thank you," she said, her voice tinged with warmth.

Her laughter echoed again as he closed the door and playfully pressed her up against it, their faces mere inches apart. He never missed an opportunity to do exactly that when no one was around.

"Is this why you have the car washed every day?" She teased, feeling the cool metal of the door against her back through the fabric of her saree.

He nodded, a mischievous glint in his eye. "I can't ruin all these pretty clothes you wear for me," he retorted, his voice low and teasing.

She rolled her eyes in response, though the gesture was more playful than exasperated. "I wear them for myself," she countered, though they both knew the truth was more nuanced. Indeed, she dressed for herself, but his preferences always played a role in her selections.

"Acha?" He teased further, his hand moving to twist her arm gently behind her back, drawing her closer until their bodies were pressed together in a seamless embrace. "So, you didn't wear this saree for me?" His whisper was soft, a mere breath against her skin, barely audible over the rapid beat of her heart.

The saree she wore was a shimmering gold fabric that her friend mother had insisted made her look like a goddess. It was chosen with Murtasim in mind, a fact she couldn't deny even as she attempted to maintain the pretense of indifference.

"Nahi," she teased, her attempt at escape half-hearted.

The proximity to him, the intensity of his gaze, it all made her question her resolve. Her eyes involuntarily dropped to his lips, a wave of anticipation washing over her. Memories of what usually happened in the moments she was pressed up against a car - kisses that left her breathless and clinging to him for support - flickered through her mind.

"Hmmm, jhoot," Murtasim whispered, his breath warm against her skin as he leaned closer, his nose brushing lightly against her neck. "You smell so good," he groaned, the sound vibrating against her, sending shivers down her spine.

"Why do you think that?" Meerab managed to get out, her voice a whisper, challenging his first assertion even as her body responded to his proximity.

He pulled back slightly, enough to meet her gaze, his grin both knowing and tender. "You watch for my reaction when I see you, and you blush very prettily the whole time," he observed, his voice soft.

She couldn't deny it; his observation was spot on. The moment he had laid eyes on her that evening, his breath had seemed to catch, his expression one of awe and delight, as if she were the only person in the world. It had made her heart swell, her cheeks flushing with warmth.

As she pondered his words, he placed a soft kiss on her cheek, a gentle caress that made her blush deepen. Instinctively, her free hand found its way to his chest, fingers playing with the third button of his shirt, teasing the fabric, noting the two top buttons he had left undone. "Do you not?" she asked, her voice a mix of innocence and daring.

She reveled in the sensation of his breath hitching at her touch, proof of the electric tension that crackled between them. They had danced this dance for months, a tantalizing push and pull of desire and restraint.

"Hmm?" he hummed in response, his voice low, a question and an invitation all in one.

"Dress up for me?" she pressed, her voice barely above a whisper, the challenge clear in her eyes.

His response was a groan, sending a wave of triumph through her. Her giggle, light and teasing, was cut short as his lips found hers, pulling her into a kiss.

The kiss was intense, enthusiastic without being rushed, as if he sought to claim her very soul with his lips. His mouth moved against hers with a hunger that left no room for thought.

Murtasim's hand, still holding hers behind her back, brought her even closer, their bodies pressed so tightly there was no space for anything but the heat that radiated between them. His other hand cradled the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair, deepening the kiss until the world around them faded away. It was as if he intended to swallow her whole, to merge their very beings with this kiss, leaving her breathless, her heart pounding against the hand on his chest.

As Murtasim reluctantly pulled away, Meerab couldn't hold back a moan, a sound that seemed to resonate within him, prompting a groan. "I missed kissing you," he confessed, his voice a murmur of longing before he captured her lips once more in a kiss.

Meerab kissed him back with a depth that belied her longing. It was true, her father had become an ever-present shadow these days, hovering with a concern that, while perhaps exaggerated, wasn't entirely unfounded. The intensity of their connection, the magnetic pull between them, was something even her father seemed to fear could lead them astray if left unchecked.

When they finally broke apart, both gasping for air, Murtasim looked into her eyes, his thumb gently caressing her bottom lip, a gesture as familiar as it was tender. "Let's go," he whispered as he began to lead her towards the house.

Meerab allowed herself to be pulled along, but she couldn't suppress a squeal of surprise and delight when he suddenly lifted her into his arms, bridal style. Her arms instinctively wrapped around his shoulders. "Murtasim!" she gasped.

"You're going into our house for the first time. I have to do this," he teased, his voice bubbling with happiness.

"I've been inside a million times," she protested playfully, remembering the countless decisions and selections she had made, from the floors to the cabinet colors to the fixtures. Yet, as she looked into his eyes, sparkling with joy and anticipation, she knew this moment was different.

"Not when it's done and all clean, and is actually a home," he countered, his steps confident as he carried her across the threshold, her laughter echoing through the empty spaces of their future home.

"Welcome home," he whispered, his voice carrying a weight of emotion as he set her down gently.

As Meerab took in her surroundings, the reality of their new beginning struck her. The warm white walls, the rich hardwood floors, the sunlight streaming through the large black-framed windows, all combined to create an atmosphere of sheer happiness. There wasn't a single dark corner; the entire space was bathed in light, instilling a sense of peace and calm. Through the windows, she could see the lush greenery surrounding their home, a sight that brought a smile to her face.

Turning to Murtasim, she found herself overwhelmed by the enormity of the moment. "It's...perfect," she managed to say, her voice soft, her heart full.

"It's ours," he smiled back, his expression one of sheer contentment and love.

Meerab's emotions were a whirlwind of laughter and tears, the joy of the moment mingling with a sense of overwhelming gratitude. As Murtasim tenderly wiped away her tears, his smile was a warm, encouraging her to explore.

Her feet led her towards the expanse of their soon-to-be living room, the empty space echoed with potential, its vastness promising countless memories. But it was the sight of the kitchen that truly took her breath away. The dual islands they had painstakingly planned stood at the heart of the room, surrounded by light wood-washed cabinets and ceilings that contrasted beautifully with the pristine white countertops. The warmth and welcoming aura of the space were exactly as she had envisioned, but what truly stunned her were the black appliances and hardware that adorned the room.

"I thought they were on backorder, no one could find them!" she exclaimed, turning to Murtasim with wide eyes, marveling at the sleek stove and faucets that they had both agreed would be perfect but had seemed impossible to procure.

Murtasim's shrug was casual, too casual, and Meerab knew instinctively that he had gone above and beyond to fulfill her wish, despite her assurances that silver appliances would suffice.

Overcome with affection, she ran back to him and launched herself into his arms, her embrace a physical manifestation of her love and appreciation. "Thank you," she said, squeezing him tightly, the words muffled against his shoulder. Pulling back slightly, she locked eyes with him, whispering, "I love you," her heart swelling with emotion.

His response, "I love you too, meri Meerab," was accompanied by his smile and the familiar crinkling of his eyes.

"Let's go see the rest!" She squealed but he shook his head.

His next words gave her pause. "You're going to go see the rest on your own...I'll be waiting," he said, gently pushing her hair behind her ears, his demeanor changing slightly, sparking curiosity within her.

"Why?" she asked, confusion lacing her voice, her mind racing with questions.

"No questions please, just go, there's little notes for you throughout the house," he urged, his voice soft yet firm, leaving no room for argument.

Meerab bit back a smile, her thoughts drifting to the small box she had noticed in his pocket, the one that Murtasimbakri seemed inexplicably attracted to. She had kept her knowledge of its existence to herself, but now, the anticipation of what was coming sent a flutter of excitement through her.

With a nod, she acquiesced, her stomach a whirlwind of butterflies.

"Start at the stairs," he whispered, his lips pressing a tender kiss to her forehead.

Letting her go, Murtasim stepped back, his gaze following her steps.

Meerab couldn't help but marvel at the transformation of the space as she retraced her steps towards the door, her eyes drawn to the elegance of the staircase that seemed to anchor the house in both design and purpose. Her heart skipped with a joyous thump as she spotted a piece of pretty green-colored paper, taped delicately to the staircase wall, accompanied by a single red tulip—a touch so quintessentially Murtasim in its thoughtfulness.

With a soft giggle, she carefully removed the note, her fingers tracing over the neat handwriting that was unmistakably his. The words on the paper drew her into a whirlwind of memories and emotions: When you were 18, I was 21, you came to live with us that summer for the first time. In my head I thought I had inherited another musibat. It felt like the universe had played a prank, that at any moment, the Khan Haveli would have a plaque outside that said 'Meerab's Palace'.

The laughter that bubbled up from within her was uncontrollable, echoing through the empty rooms as she remembered how their lives had collided in those days, filled with chaos.

Continuing to read, she was transported back to those days of endless bickering. I thought I hated your presence, but if I am honest, I think I hated how much you affected me, even then, especially when you walked around the garden in shorts, and fought with me over every little thing. Her giggles softened into a fond smile, the memories of their squabbles now sweet in their recollection.

Years later, we're almost 23 and I am 26 – and it seems like everything has changed, yet some things never will. Maybe this house could be 'Meerab's Palace', where we spend our lives bickering away like we always do.

"Meerab and Murtasim Khan," she whispered to herself, her heart swelling with a sense of rightness. That was what she envisioned for the placard outside their home—a proclamation of their shared life.

The smile that adorned Meerab's face as she ascended the stairs was one of pure, unadulterated joy, a physical manifestation of the love and anticipation that coursed through her. She eagerly searched for the next note, her steps quickening as she approached the nook by the huge window. This part of the house, with its expansive space and floods of natural light, had always puzzled her, a blank canvas awaiting inspiration.

There, attached to the wall and nestled beside a single, beautiful red rose, was another note, this one paired with an envelope. With hands trembling slightly from excitement, she carefully opened the envelope to discover three weathered tickets inside. A gasp escaped her lips as she recognized them immediately—tickets to the cricket match she had once rebelliously attended with Maryam. The date and the teams on the tickets brought a rush of memories.

As her eyes eagerly devoured the words on the note, a soft giggle escaped her. When you were 19 and I was 22, you drove me absolutely insane when you snuck away to the cricket match alone with Maryam. I had come back to take you there, because as much as I pretended otherwise, I always had a hard time saying no to you, and it's only gotten worse. The memory of that day, of her stealthy escape and the worry it must have caused, now seemed endearingly foolish.

That was the summer things started changing I think, that summer perhaps was the first time we had a conversation that didn't end in a fight... and it was the summer I found myself admiring you, you've always been the prettiest woman I've seen...but it took me that long to admit it to myself...and now I wonder how I was blind for so long. The words struck a chord within her, stirring a warmth that spread from her heart to the tips of her fingers and toes. That summer had been a turning point for her as well, the season when the line between irritation and affection had blurred, when she found herself stealing glances at him, her heart racing for reasons she couldn't then articulate.

Blushing at the memory and Murtasim's admission, Meerab held the note and the tickets close to her chest.

Her steps led her instinctively toward the master bedroom. It was to be their room, a sanctuary where Murtasim no longer needed the cover of night and the secrecy of sneaking through windows to be with her. The anticipation caused her cheeks to flush.

Approaching the window, her heart skipped a beat at the sight of the note, elegantly accompanied by a red dahlia. She gently removed the note, her smile widening as she unfolded it.

When you were 20, I was 23, and hopelessly falling in love with you. That summer will always be my favourite, I knew that summer started horribly for you, and I didn't make things easy for you at first. But it was the summer I realized how much your happiness matters to me, and how much I love your smile. It was the first time I saw a different side of you, and I realized that I did not in fact hate the loud, vibrant, opinionated Meerab you were. I missed her - even though she could be a musibat - and wanted to do all I could to bring her back. Tears welled up in Meerab's eyes as she recalled that challenging summer, a time darkened by her struggles with depression, yet ultimately illuminated by Murtasim's unwavering support and affection.

Continuing to read, she found herself giggling despite the tears.

I teased you on purpose, just to see that fire I had fallen in love with in your eyes. That road trip we took – where everything went wrong – was one I spent in agony trying to deal with my feelings for you, and having you so close, my heart, body and brain all fighting against each other. For how could I have feelings for you – you were supposed to be the musibat I inherited.

The memory of their chaotic road trip, filled with mishaps yet underscored by an undeniable connection, brought a sense of nostalgia and warmth.

But there you were, and I couldn't look away from you, so beautiful, so ethereal, so mesmerizing. And handcuffed to me.

The recollection of their forced proximity, and the care Murtasim had shown her—carrying her when her feet hurt, tenderly looking after her—had cracked open her heart to him, making it impossible not to fall deeply in love.

That was the first time I called you my wife, to that shady motel owner, it sounded so right even then.

As Meerab read, her smile broadened even as tears streamed down her face.

My heart hurt for you that summer, like your pain was mine, and I spent that whole summer trying to make you smile, because the warmth that came with seeing you happy beat any other feeling in the world. I thought I was going mad picking out a goat for you, but the laugh you let out when she cuddled you, the happiness on your face was worth it...I didn't even hate that you named her after me. I want to be what I was to you that summer for the rest of our lives, to be the person who stays by your side in the good times and the bad, who gives you a reason to smile.

Sniffling, Meerab whispered to the empty room, to the memories surrounding her, "you already do." The words on the page blurred through her tears, but the message was clear and etched deeply within her heart. Murtasim had become her anchor, her joy, and her home.

Meerab's heart was light as she wandered through the expansive master bedroom towards the bathroom that she had fallen in love with as it took shape, its luxury and comfort a far cry from the motel they had ended up at that summer. Her eyes caught the next note, taped elegantly to the mirror, an orchid keeping it company, its delicate beauty a silent witness to the words written by Murtasim. She smiled softly, plucking the note from its resting place.

When you were 21, I was 24, and an idiot. I had convinced myself that I couldn't possibly be with you. Not because of you, but what that would mean for your life, a life with all the things you seemed to hate. I am sorry for how distant I was that summer, I thought I was protecting us, but as it turns out, maybe I wasn't that smart at 24.

She let out a giggle at his admission. Indeed, he hadn't been. That summer had been one of hidden plans and quiet revolutions, with Murtasim unaware of the changes she had been brewing under his very nose.

But as much as I tried to hold back, I couldn't, you've always been the sun in my universe, drawing me in with your warmth, compelling me to orbit around you, utterly captivated by your light.

Taking a deep breath, Meerab let the memories of that summer wash over her as she continued her journey through the house. The lavish closets yielded no notes, but another room held the next piece of their story. It was a room that held the promise of future laughter and footsteps, Murtasim had playfully named all the other rooms as child # x on the blueprints, teasing her about needing more than six rooms while she whacked him.

In the room that had been labelled child # 1, another note awaited her, this time accompanied by a simple daisy.

When you were 22, I was 25 – the world seemed to be against us. I know I don't have to tell you how horrible that summer and the following months were, you lived them with me. I don't think I can ever apologize enough for hurting you like I did. I know there were a hundred different ways we could've handled what happened...but hindsight is always 20/20. I wanted nothing more than to run away with you that year, I prayed for miracles that never seemed to happen. I hated myself, I had always wanted to be the reason behind your smile, but I was the reason behind your tears. I am sorry. I'll spend our whole lives apologizing. But I promise that I'll never be the reason for your tears again. I like to think that everyone's life has a bit of sadness in it and we've lived our fair share of it, that from now on, our lives will only be filled with happiness.

The words struck Meerab to her core, a poignant reminder of the pain and the healing that had filled the previous year. Tears pooled in her eyes, not from sorrow, but from the overwhelming sense of love and forgiveness.

Meerab's heart danced with anticipation as she roamed through the house, the trail of notes like breadcrumbs. The discovery of a new note, one she hadn't seen on her way up, nestled beside a lush peony at the top of the stairs, brought a fresh wave of excitement. Its message was simple yet thrilling: meet me in the backyard.

With no hesitation, she found herself rushing down the stairs, the sound of her anklets chiming in the air, a melodic testament to her hurried steps.

Clutching the collection of flowers and notes, she made her way toward the back of the house. Pushing open the glass doors, she stepped into the vast expanse of their backyard. The sight of the pool and expansive yard sparked a flush of memories, particularly Murtasim's words about their future children playing in this very space. The perimeter of the yard, lined with empty flower beds eagerly awaiting seeds, made her smile.

The sun had dipped lower, casting a golden hue over the scene, Meerab's eyes were drawn to the setup by the pool. A single table for two, set upon a dais and sheltered by a makeshift gazebo adorned with a cascade of flowers and fairy lights, created a scene straight from a dream. And there, under the soft glow of the setting sun and the twinkling lights, stood Murtasim, his gaze fixed on her as she approached.

Her pace slowed as she neared him, an arch of her eyebrow betraying her curiosity yet acknowledging the significance of the moment. Despite the playful question in her gaze, her heart knew the answer.

Murtasim's smile was a mix of anticipation and nerves. "You found all of them," he remarked, his eyes momentarily flickering to the flowers and notes in her hand.

With a nod, Meerab responded, setting the flowers and notes on the table, "I seem to be missing one though." Her words were light, teasing.

He arched an eyebrow in response.

The air between them was thick with anticipation, a gentle prelude to the moment they both sensed was imminent. "Of now, when we're turning 23 and 26," Meerab said softly, her voice laced with affection as she stepped into the circle of Murtasim's arms, her heart skipping a beat. She knew the start of the speech that was to come; she had accidentally overheard him practicing it, his voice filled with nerves, directed at their unsuspecting pet goat, when he thought she wasn't around.

Murtasim's response was a smile that lit up his face, a clear sign of his love and the excitement. He took her hands in his, his grip warm and reassuring, and cleared his throat, ready to share his heart. "Now that we're 23 and 26, I am smarter."

She couldn't help but laugh at that.

Murtasim grinned before continuing, "I know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you by my side. I want it all. I want forever. I want to grow old with you. I want to build a life with you here, to make this house into a home, filled with memories, happiness, love, and...our children. I want to make it to the last page of our book with you, when we're old and grey, sitting somewhere here, surrounded by our children and grandchildren, with your favourite flowers blooming all around us. I know it won't be all sunshine and rainbows, that like with all stories, ours will have ups and downs, but I promise you I'll love you through all of them, for the rest of my life."

Tears streamed down Meerab's cheeks, each word from Murtasim weaving deeper into her heart as she nodded. He reached up to wipe away her tears, his touch gentle, his eyes shining with emotion. "I'll try my best to make sure that any tears you cry are happy tears," he whispered, a vow made in the soft twilight.

"I know," she whispered back, her voice choked with emotion, as she nuzzled against his hand, seeking the warmth and reassurance of his touch.

Then, with a tenderness that enveloped her heart, he placed a kiss on her forehead. Stepping back, he took her left hand in his and knelt before her, love shining in his eyes. "Will you marry me, meri Meerab?" he asked, his voice a blend of hope and certainty.

Giggles broke through her tears, the weight of the moment lifting in a bubble of joy. "Meri musibat," she teased, echoing the playful term he had written down.

He laughed, the sound mingling with the soft evening air. "Puri zindagi ke liye meri musibat banogi?" he asked, his laughter mixing with his tears.

But she was already nodding, her heart full, her voice steady despite the tears. "I'll be your musibat for the rest of our lives," she declared, her commitment unwavering.

With laughter and tears marking this unforgettable moment, Murtasim pulled out the ring and slid it onto her finger. It fit perfectly. It had to, for a while he had been wrapping straw wrappers around her finger every time they went out, ripping them to the perfect size while speaking with her, like she wouldn't notice.

With her heart brimming with joy, Meerab clasped her hand around his, encouraging him to rise from his knelt position. Her laughter rang clear in the evening air as he wobbled slightly, the imbalance drawing him closer until his arm wrapped around her for support. The proximity, the warmth of his body against hers, and the elevation provided by her heels made it all too natural for her to lean in for a kiss. "I love you, Murtasim," she whispered, her words a soft breath against his lips.

His response was a contented sigh, the happiness in his voice palpable as he echoed her sentiment, "I love you, meri musibat." The words, once a jab, now held within it layers of affection.

Pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, Meerab's laughter was a melody of her happiness. "Yours for a lifetime now," she teased, her eyes sparkling with emotion and the promise of endless tomorrows together.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," he replied.

"I love you." She whispered again.

Murtasim's gaze, intense and filled with unspoken desire, locked with hers.

Without breaking eye contact, Murtasim leaned in, his hands finding her waist, pulling her closer with a gentle but insistent pressure. Meerab's breath hitched, anticipation tingling across her skin as the distance between them dwindled to nothing. As their lips met, the world seemed to narrow down to the point of their contact, everything else fading into insignificance.

The kiss was a careful exploration at first, lips pressing softly, tentatively against each other, as if relearning the landscape they knew so well. But the initial gentleness quickly gave way to a deeper urgency. Murtasim's lips moved against Meerab's, parting slightly as he coaxed her mouth open, deepening the kiss. Meerab responded in kind, her hands sliding up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer.

Amidst the intensity, Murtasim's breathy whispers broke through, a tender litany of "meri Meerab" breathed against her lips with each pause for air, each word laced with love.

Murtasim's hand moved from her waist to the small of her back, pressing her body firmly against his, leaving no space between them. The heat that sparked with their initial touch ignited into an all-consuming flame, each kiss stoking the fire higher.

Breath became a scarce commodity, each gasp for air intermingled with the press of lips.

Then, as if carried on the edge of realization, Murtasim's voice, huskier now, edged with emotion, murmured into the dwindling space between them, "meri biwi." The words, so full of promise and future, so laden with the depth of his commitment, broke the spell.

Meerab pulled back, her eyes wide, suddenly hyper-aware of the weight of his words, the depth of their meaning resonating through her.

Murtasim chuckled at her reaction, teasing, "don't like it as much as meri musibat?"

She giggled, the sound light. "Meri musibat se meri Meerab se meri biwi, uske baad kya?" she asked, her heart swelling as he drew her closer, their foreheads pressed together in a moment of intimacy.

"Hmmmm, mere bachon ki maa?" He teased.

She shook her head, laughing, "I don' like that."

"Hmmm, meri jaan?" he whispered, the words a soft caress against her soul.

She grinned, teasing him further, "Abhi se jaan nahi hoon tumhari jaan?"

He chuckled, his affirmation immediate and sincere. "Of course, koi shak, meri jaan?"

Shaking her head, still smiling, she basked in the warmth of his love.

"Meri jaan ko bhook lagi hai?" he asked, the shift in conversation both sudden and endearing.

Laughing, Meerab playfully whacked his arm. "Stop," she protested, her laughter a melody in the evening air.

"Acha phir, meri musibat ko bhook lagi hai?" he persisted, his tone playful.

"Murtasim!" she laughed again.

"Yaar, seriously, I am so hungry, I was so nervous that I didn't eat much," he admitted, his pout making him look irresistibly adorable.

She leaned in, stealing a quick kiss on his lips. "Why? I wasn't going to say no," she giggled, her heart light.

He sighed, the sound laden with relief and a hint of vulnerability. "I know, I just wanted it to be perfect for you."

Grinning, Meerab felt her heart expand. "It was perfect, and I'll have all those letters and flowers to keep with me forever."

He pouted slightly, a playful objection on his lips. "The flowers will die."

Shaking her head, Meerab shared a secret she had learnt just weeks ago. "I saw this video where people preserve their wedding flowers, so I can do that, there's even a place near my house that does it!"

"You want them forever?" he asked, his voice soft.

Nodding, she affirmed, "I love them."

"Did you narrow down your favourite yet?" His question was gentle, curious.

She shook her head. "I like all of them."

"I guess we'll plant all of them then," he said, leaning in, he kissed her nose.

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As Murtasim pulled up in front of the Ahmed House, a shared sense of reluctance enveloped the car. Turning to Meerab, they both sighed. "I can't wait until I don't have to take you back home at the end of the night," he confessed, the engine now silent, the longing in his voice mirrored the look in her eyes. He lifted her hand to his lips, kissing it gently.

"Me too," she sighed, her smile bright and unwavering, so wide it threatened to split her face.

"Doesn't your face hurt?" he teased, his finger lightly touching the soft dimple that appeared with her smiles, as elusive as it was enchanting.

She responded with a giggle, shaking her head, her joy infectious.

"If you keep smiling at me, I won't be able to leave," he half-joked, half-whined, caught in the pull of her happiness.

Her grin only widened at his words, prompting him to chuckle. "That makes you look deranged," he remarked, the humor in his voice belying the fondness in his gaze.

She responded with an eye roll and a playful whack to his arm, the mock indignation in her action only drawing a deeper laugh from him.

"Chalo, I'll hand you back over to your parents, and get my daily dose of glares in," he sighed, the thought of facing her father's protective scrutiny a familiar end to their evenings.

Meerab snickered, a sound that tugged at his heartstrings. "Baba is not that bad," she defended, her loyalty to her father endearing.

"He glares at me like I've..." he trailed off, the unspoken words hanging between them.

"Like you've what?" she prodded, her eyebrow arched in feigned innocence, her eyes twinkling with mischief and a hint of challenge as they met his.

The little minx knew exactly what he meant.

In the dimly lit interior of the car, Murtasim closed the distance between them, his movements deliberate as he pulled Meerab closer. The warmth from her body, the faint scent of her perfume, and the anticipation in her widened eyes drew him in like a moth to flame. Their faces were now merely inches apart, the space between them charged with a palpable tension, filled with unspoken promises and desires.

Murtasim couldn't help but revel in the effect he had on Meerab, her eyes widening with every word he whispered, the distance between them charged with unspoken desires. "Like I've done all of the things I want to do with you, all the things your eyes beg for when I kiss you," he murmured, his thumb tracing her bottom lip, sending a shiver through her.

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, as he watched her reaction, savoring the moment.

"Murtasim," the sound of his name on her lips, raspy and laden with emotion, struck a chord deep within him, stirring a desire that was becoming increasingly difficult to tame.

"You'll be the death of me," he sighed, the intensity of the moment overwhelming him as he reluctantly pulled away, stepping out of the car for a brief respite from her intoxicating presence.

As he opened the door for her, Murtasim was acutely aware of the possibility of her father's watchful eyes, it was the only thing stopping him from giving in to the urge to pull her close and kiss her senseless. Meerab's knowing giggle and the mischievous sparkle in her eyes only fueled his desire, her expression playfully challenging him.

"Don't push me right now, Meerab," he whispered, a warning edged with desire, aware of the thin line they were treading under her father's vigilant gaze.

The sight of the ring on her finger, intensified his longing, she was one step closer to being his wife.

Meerab's laughter broke through his reverie, her hand finding his as she spoke. "Chalo, we can share the good news so they can start preparing," she said, her voice a mix of excitement and affection.

He couldn't resist teasing her, pulling back on her hand slightly. "Itni jaldi hai?" he asked, his voice laced with humor.

Her eye roll was playful, her patience with his teasing wearing thin.

"Kyun?" he continued, unable to resist pushing her buttons a little more.

Her response was swift and laden with a promise of her own. "Shut up or I won't let you do all the things you want to do to me," she warned, her smile pointed, a playful threat that sparked a laugh from him.

"Meerabilli," he teased, flicking her nose with his finger lightly.

Her glare only deepened before she darted towards the front door, her laughter trailing behind her. Murtasim followed, they rang the bell, standing side by side.

Murtasim leaned in, his voice low, stirring the air with anticipation. "You won't be able to resist all the things I want to do to you," he muttered, a promise veiled in his tone.

Before Meerab could respond, the front door swung open, revealing her mother with a welcoming smile. "Right on time, as always," she greeted Murtasim, her warmth evident.

From the living room, Waqas's voice carried, tinged with severity, "With always just a minute to spare." Murtasim remembered Meerab's cautionary tales that he never heeded, in her father's book, on-time was fifteen minutes early.

"We have some news to share," Murtasim announced to Anila, the excitement barely contained in his voice.

Anila's smile deepened, her eyes flicking down to Meerab's hand, already aware of the news that brought him to her doorstep tonight. She nodded, stepping aside to let them into the warmth of the house.

Murtasim greeted Waqas, who looked up from his book with a nod and followed it with a pointed glance at his watch which Murtasim ignored.

Settling down, the air thick with anticipation, Meerab couldn't contain her excitement. "Murtasim proposed!" she beamed, her hand extended, the ring sparkling under the room's light.

"Finally," Waqas exhaled, his sigh a mixture of relief and resignation, while Anila's grin widened, her eyes fixed on the ring.

Meerab's pout was immediate. "Baba!" The protest was light, playful.

Waqas defended his reaction. "He asked for permission ages ago, I can say finally."

The revelation had Meerab arching an eyebrow in Murtasim's direction, a silent question he promised to answer later, his smile conspiratorial.

"I was just waiting for the house to be ready... and you were the one that said you wouldn't let me marry her until the case was dropped," Murtasim retorted, his gaze locked with Waqas', a challenge wrapped in respect.

"So, the case is dropped, the house is ready, Bhabhi Begum is reluctantly ready, and you two are ready..." Waqas trailed off.

"Waqas." Anila's reprimand was gentle but firm, redirecting the conversation. "Are you happy?" she asked Meerab, her maternal concern touching.

Meerab's nod, accompanied by a radiant smile, melted Murtasim's heart. She looked as if she was the embodiment of joy itself, her happiness illuminating the room.

"Murtasim said he wants to be married before the summer ends, is that okay with you?" Anila inquired, her voice holding a note of practicality amidst the celebration.

Meerab's agreement was swift, confident. "Two months is more than enough to put together a wedding."

Murtasim, secretly believing a week would suffice, but he nodded in agreement.

"Show me the ring," Anila said with a warm smile, extending her hand towards Meerab, who eagerly complied, showcasing it.

Anila's nod of approval was as much a blessing as it was a recognition of the thought Murtasim had put into choosing it. "It's perfect for you," she directed at her daughter, but her eyes lingered on Murtasim with an unspoken gratitude.

"Sara Bi, mithai lao," Anila called out, turning towards the kitchen, setting in motion the traditional celebration of good news.

Murtasim couldn't help but observe Waqas, noticing a genuine smile break through. Murtasim arched an eyebrow at him, a silent question hanging between them.

"Beti ka baap hoon," Waqas shrugged, a simple yet profound declaration of his role and feelings towards the entire affair.

Laughing, Murtasim nodded in understanding. Internally, he admitted he would guard his own daughter just as fiercely. He thought Waqas was too lenient, all things considered, a thought that made him chuckle internally.

As they shared mithai and engaged in light-hearted conversation, Murtasim sent another quick text to Areeb.

"Apna aur meri biwi ka khayal rakhna," he quipped as he stood up, preparing to leave, prompting laughter from Anila and an affectionate exclamation from Meerab, "Murtasim!" Her tone was scolding yet filled with love.

Waqas rolled his eyes at Murtasim's remark but couldn't hide the smile that tugged at his lips.

Making his way out, a routine now familiar after months of visits, Murtasim knew the family would linger downstairs, offering him a perfect window. Silently, he scaled the pipe to Meerab's balcony, now an expert. Finding the door conveniently open, he slipped inside, shedding his shoes and jacket, unbuttoning and rolling up his sleeves before making himself comfortable on her bed, propping pillows against the headboard, enveloped in the darkness of her room.

The distant sound of chatter and laughter reached him, Meerab's laughter distinguishable among the voices, a sound that filled him with warmth. There, in the quiet of her room, he waited, a smile playing on his lips, content in the knowledge that soon he could spend the whole day with her without the need for stealth or separation.

The gentle sound of Meerab's anklets was the only giveaway of her approach; the absence of the click-clack of her heels against the floor suggested she had taken them off. As the door swung open, her silhouette framed by the hallway light for a brief moment before she closed the door, Murtasim had to stifle a chuckle, watching as she squealed in delight, jumping slightly, her hand reflexively going up to flick on the light.

There she stood, mesmerized by the ring on her finger, a huge smile on her face, a sight that filled him with a sense of pride and affection. "Itni achi lagi?" he muttered, barely containing his amusement.

Her reaction was instantaneous—a loud gasp, her wide eyes snapping towards him. "Murtasim!" she squeaked, clearly surprised by his unplanned presence.

"Any louder and your Baba will come running up," he teased.

"Your car?!" she exclaimed, dashing towards the balcony door for a quick reconnaissance, only to find the driveway empty.

"Areeb took it," Murtasim revealed with a grin, relaxing further into the bed, a clear indication of his intention to stay. "I didn't want to leave today," he added, watching her process his plan.

Her laughter filled the room, a sound he found endlessly endearing. "I am surprised Murtasimbakri didn't give you away," she teased, their notoriously nosy pet goat always managed to derail his plans.

"I gave her a huge bale of hay when I picked you up earlier. She's probably still busy," he quipped back, the image of the goat distracted by her feast amusing him as he patted the bed beside him, inviting Meerab to join.

"I have to go change," she announced, gesturing towards the bathroom, her practical side momentarily taking over.

He simply nodded, giving her the space she needed. "Go."

Her concern flickered back to him, her gaze sweeping over his attire. "Are you comfortable in that?" she inquired, her eyes lingering on his clothes.

"I can take them off if you want," he teased, hands moving to the buttons of his shirt in a mock gesture of undressing.

"No!" The word burst from her, her eyes widening in shock and perhaps a hint of curiosity, eliciting a hearty laugh from him.

"Go change," he urged again, his voice laced with amusement, watching as she quickly retreated into the bathroom.

"You better keep your clothes on!" She said before she closed the door.

Murtasim chuckled as he lay on Meerab's bed, his gaze fixed on the ceiling, a determined effort in place to steer his thoughts away from the dangerously enticing path they wanted to take as she disappeared. Tonight was different; he usually made his visits after she was ready for bed. But now, she was mere steps away, in the midst of her nightly rituals.

His brain, unbidden and unrelenting, whispered tantalizing thoughts. She's in there naked.

"No," he muttered aloud, a feeble attempt to silence the unwelcome yet arousing images flooding his mind.

The whispers grew more vivid, more insistent. Naked, in the nude, changing into those huge kurtas...the ones she doesn't wear a bra under.

"No, Murtasim," he whispered to himself, trying desperately to focus on anything else. "3.1415926535897932384626433832795...5...5 –" He grasped for the digits of Pi, anything to distract his thoughts from the path they were determined to tread.

But his brain was relentless, painting pictures he found impossible to ignore. Her skin is probably soft everywhere, his brain murmured, seducing him with thoughts he fought hard to resist.

"Five, five, what comes after five?" he groaned, the numbers losing their battle against the imagery in his mind.

The sound of water from the bathroom was his undoing. Is she showering? Imagine the water running down her body –

"No! No! No!" The protest was torn from him as his imagination assaulted him with visions of Meerab, naked, the water tracing paths along her skin, mirroring that rain-soaked night that had etched itself in his memory. The way the droplets had adorned her skin, sliding off slowly, had him wondering, yearning...

"Pi! Pi is...3.1415926535897932384626433832795...5...5 –... Fuck." His whispered curse was a concession to the futility of his efforts, the images unrelenting, water droplets trailing down her perfect body in his mind's eye.

His thoughts took an even more heated turn. Her skin is probably going to flush if the water is hot, just like her face does...but everywhere.

"No, no, no. Stop Murtasim." His whisper-yell was to himself as much as to the rebellious part of his body that was reacting all too viscerally to his vivid imagination. "Think of something else."

But his brain, now fully a traitor to his attempts at self-control, didn't relent. Sex with Meerab.

"No, not right now, we can't," he hissed, frustration and desire mingling as he addressed his stirring erection in his lap.

In a bid for control, Murtasim moved hastily to the balcony door, opening it slightly, craving the night's cool air as a balm for his heated thoughts. "Just take deep breaths, Murtasim Khan, you're better than this," he coached himself, inhaling deeply, trying to ground himself in the reality of the cool breeze rather than the heat of his imagination.

Yet, his mind betrayed him again, prodding with a whisper, what kind of sounds would she make as you –

"NO!" He couldn't help but groan out loud, a desperate plea for respite.

Undeterred, his thoughts veered further into forbidden territory. Will she bite her lip and hold back the sounds or let herself go?

"Great question for when we're home in bed alone and not here," he whispered back, a feeble attempt to postpone these tormenting thoughts.

But his brain was relentless. What if she is in the bed too?

"Pi. Pi. I know pi," he clung to the distraction desperately. "2.141 – wait it's 3! Pi. Pi. Pi is 3.1415926535897932384626433832795...what comes after 5?"

It was futile. The discomfort in his slacks was becoming unbearable, a physical testament to his turmoil. He adjusted himself while lamenting his choice of attire, wishing for the looser confines of a shalwar. His erection really had no business to act up right then, it had been taken care of in the morning in the shower, to curb exactly what was happening right then, a preventive measure.

Internally chastising himself, "Bad thought. Bad thought. Bad thought," Murtasim sighed, trying to steer clear of the morning's fantasies that had featured Meerab's soft hands around him, and her pretty mouth licking and sucking the life out of him. They were now his undoing, as images of Meerab, too vivid and enticing, flooded his mind.

"Distract yourself again," he muttered, desperate to quell the throbbing that his body seemed intent on focusing on.

He drew in another slow, deep breath, attempting to calm the storm within.

Yet, his brain mocked his efforts, suggesting, Slow and deep sounds good –

Shaking his head, he forced himself to focus on anything but the carnal images taunting him. Numbers had failed him, now, he focused on words. "The wheels on the bus go 'round and 'round. 'Round and 'round, 'round and 'round. The wheels on the bus go 'round and 'round. All day long. The horn on the bus goes beep-beep-beep. Beep-beep-beep, beep-beep-beep. The horn on the bus goes beep-beep-beep. All day long."

Why that song became his mantra, he couldn't say.

But then his tormented musings changed to imagining a future where she would sing that song to their kids.

That was a better line of thought!

The idea of them, him and Meerab, singing nursery rhymes to little ones who mirrored her beauty was infinitely comforting.

He pictured their children with Meerab's cheeks, her infectious giggle, her nose, her smile, and her expressive, large eyes.

They'd undoubtedly be the cutest babies in the world, a thought that brought a genuine smile to his face.

Lost in this pleasant daydream, he barely registered Meerab's voice until she spoke, pulling him back to the present. "Why are you standing there?" she asked, emerging from the bathroom in a loose white kurta and shalwar, embodying simplicity and elegance.

Caught off guard and struggling to mask his earlier turmoil, he managed, "No reason," as she made her way to the bed, inviting him back to the cozy spot he had vacated.

Lying down, he consciously angled his body away from her, an attempt to maintain some semblance of control. Yet, when she curled up against him, resting her head on his shoulder and placing a hand on his chest, every thought seemed to melt away. He looked down at the ring on her finger and lifted her hand to kiss it gently.

She giggled, a sound that warmed his heart. "I love it," she confessed, her voice filled with happiness. "I always wanted a ring like this."

Grinning, he responded, "I hoped that was the case."

Her curiosity piqued, she asked, "How'd you guess?" It was true; she had never mentioned her preferences explicitly.

"Everything you like to wear has round diamonds or stones like this, earrings, necklaces, even bracelets," he observed.

Turning to face him, her chin resting on his chest, Meerab looked up at him, a small pout on her face. "You noticed?"

He smiled, gently pushing her hair behind her ear, the intimacy of the gesture underscoring his words. "I've been obsessed with you for years, remember?" he teased, his voice soft.

Meerab's giggle was like music to Murtasim's ears, especially as she leaned in to press a kiss to his lips, breaking their rule with delightful defiance.

"You're not allowed to do that in bed," he reminded her, though his tone carried no real reprimand, merely an echo of their ongoing jest, it was much too dangerous.

"Why?" she teased, punctuating her question with another quick peck on his lips, her mischievousness shining through, she knew exactly why.

"Meerab," he groaned, the sound mixed with frustration and a deep-seated affection, as she continued to look temptingly beautiful in her simplicity, makeup-free and utterly herself.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his words a bare truth in the dim light of her room.

"You say that all the time," she countered.

"Because you are," he affirmed, sealing his statement with a gentle kiss on her nose.

"You kissed me!" she protested, though the twinkle in her eyes belied any real objection.

He laughed, the sound light and carefree. "On your nose," he clarified, watching as she rolled her eyes but nonetheless curled closer into his embrace.

"We'll be married in two months," she whispered, her voice carrying a note of excitement, of dreams soon to become reality.

He nodded. "Then you can kiss me in bed," he teased back, drawing laughter from her.

Her laughter faded into a contemplative sigh. "There's so much to do, wedding shopping, shopping for the house, planning all the events... let's run away? Like Asma?"

His snicker was his immediate response. "What's the point now?"

"Murtasim," she whined, the sound pulling at his heartstrings, making him want to give her the world and then some.

"I want to do this all properly, I don't want to miss out on any of it," he whispered back.

"You sound like you have a binder about your dream wedding that you've been working on since you were a child," she teased, her voice light.

He snickered, teasing her right back. "That's awfully specific, should I get up and look in your room?"

"I don't have one!" she protested, her denial coming a tad too quickly, a fact that didn't escape his notice.

"Ooh, defensive," he teased further, loving the way she reacted, especially when she resorted to playful whacks in response.

As the night wore on, they talked about their wedding, delving into details, sharing dreams and laughter until Meerab's eyes began to droop with sleep. Yet, even on the edge of dreams, their conversation continued, her animated sentences growing into little mumbled words until she fell asleep.

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A/N: So what do you think? What was your favourite part? We'll be landing at their wedding next!

If you were wondering what their home looks like in my head, you can check it out here: https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/185CKiSkxmKPMitLwAuTjakY5607Acn-1?usp=sharing