A/N: Thank you to all of you for all the love for the last chapter, I am glad you enjoyed the fluff! Now onto the wedding, rukhsati, and the most awaited moment, hehehe. Please not that this story is now rated mature starting from this chapter. See y'all on the other side after this super long chapter!

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As Murtasim took his seat on the dais in the lavish courtyard of the haveli, meticulously adjusting his sherwani and turban for what felt like the tenth time, Maryam couldn't seem to help but tease him. "You make a very handsome groom, bhai," she said, her words carrying a lightness that momentarily eased his nerves.

Despite her comforting words, Murtasim's gaze drifted toward the delicate curtain of flowers that divided the stage, separating him from where Meerab would soon be seated. The sheer thought of her walking towards the stage sent nervousness coursing through him. What was taking her so long?

Taking a deep breath, he looked around, taking in the floral décor that enveloped them. Every surface was adorned with an array of flowers, particularly the roses whose scent invariably reminded him of Meerab. The ambiance was a vivid representation of her, vibrant and full of life.

"I think he makes a very nervous groom," Areeb commented, catching Murtasim's foot tapping uncontrollably beneath the lavish setup.

Murtasim halted his tapping, a bit embarrassed. "I am not nervous," he muttered, more to convince himself than to inform his friends.

"It's not like Meerab is going to run away," Shahmeer chimed in nonchalantly, which unexpectedly made Murtasim's stomach drop. Even the mere thought, though absurd, jolted him. He shot Shahmeer a glare, which only prompted a round of snickers from their circle.

The Qazi, noticing the disturbance, sent a sharp glare their way, prompting an immediate hush over the group.

"Meerab looks gorgeous," Maryam continued, breaking the brief silence, her voice soft and reassuring. "And happy...the makeup artist had to tell her to stop smiling so she could do her makeup properly."

Hearing that, Murtasim couldn't help but grin. Knowing Meerab was happy, genuinely happy, was all he wanted.

"She also had to cover some suspicious-looking marks on her neck," Maryam added slyly, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

The comment sent another wave of laughter rippling through the group, much to the chagrin of the Qazi who cleared his throat loudly, a stern reminder of the decorum expected at such an occasion. The group promptly composed themselves, biting their lips to stifle any further outbursts.

Murtasim sighed, embarrassment colouring his expression as he sat waiting, each moment leading up to Meerab's entrance stretching infinitely.

It was Murtasimbakri who provided a dose of levity as needed. Clad in a cream kurta and skirt that matched the outfits he and Meerab were wearing, the tiny bells woven into her fur jingled melodically with each step she took. Murtasimbakri was an instant hit among the guests once again as she had been the whole wedding. Her tail wagged enthusiastically as she made her way toward the stage, stopping here and there for affectionate pats from the amused attendees.

However, her interest soon shifted towards the dais which she jumped onto, and then to the decorative floral curtain erected to separate the bride and groom. With an open mouth, she made a beeline for the flowers. "Oh no, not today," Murtasim quickly intervened, sweeping her up in his arms just before she could take a bite.

Murtasimbakri bleated in protest, wriggling in his grasp as he held her up to his eye level. "Meerab and I are getting married today, so you're going to behave, and I will give you all the flowers you want later," he negotiated firmly yet gently.

Acknowledging the deal, she bleated again, this time less in protest and more in acceptance, dancing slightly in his arms as he set her down carefully. Murtasim chuckled as she affectionately nuzzled his legs, her antics always managing to lighten his mood.

"Are you sure you can have your child out-of-wedlock at your wedding?" Shahmeer whispered jokingly to Murtasim, nodding towards the spirited goat.

Murtasim turned to him, "I'll just name her after you then, Shahmeerbakri?"

Shahmeer scoffed, feigning insult. "After all I've done for you," he quipped back. "Human child, you should name your human child after me," he clarified.

"You never specified earlier, so it is up to us what we do," Murtasim teased as Areeb and Maryam snickered.

Murtasimbakri, joining in the banter, bleated at Shahmeer and snapped her teeth playfully in his direction.

"I think she liked you at one point, and hates you now," Murtasim grinned, watching the interaction.

"She's so...human," Shahmeer muttered, half-annoyed, half-amused.

Areeb couldn't help but snicker, "oh, you don't know how odd she can be."

Meanwhile, Murtasimbakri, perhaps done with her moment in the spotlight, pranced over to Meerab's side of the dais. There, she settled by the bench, seemingly waiting for Meerab just as patiently—or perhaps impatiently—as Murtasim himself.

Moments later, the activity around him increased significantly, signaling the imminent arrival of Meerab. His mother and uncle joined him on his side of the stage, as Meerab's parents took their places on the opposite side. The air was thick with anticipation, the commotion of the guests and the shuffling of feet creating a palpable buzz that only heightened his nerves.

Murtasim's heart raced as he stood, adjusting his stance, the elegant florals and silks that adorned the dais suddenly insignificant compared to the thrill of seeing Meerab. Then, as if on cue, there she was—materializing at the entrance like a vision, commanding the air itself to still.

His breath caught in his throat, her presence so arresting it seemed to pause time itself.

Around her, there were undoubtedly others—friends, family, loved ones—but to Murtasim, they blurred into the background, leaving only Meerab in sharp, breathtaking focus. Dressed in a cream lehenga that mirrored his own attire, she was veiled, yet even the sheer fabric covering her face couldn't mask her ethereal beauty.

"Breathe," Areeb whispered beside him.

He took in a shaky breath, realizing that the light-headedness he felt was partly from the awe of seeing her and partly from literally forgetting to breathe.

Meerab's bridal attire, adorned with intricate gold and pearl work, shimmered under the lights, casting her in a celestial glow. The sheer dupatta veiled over her was dusted with embellishments that fluttered gently, each movement as graceful as the woman beneath.

The jewelry he had personally chosen for her adorned her with an elegance that seemed as innate to her as the smile that subtly played under her veil. No diamond or jewel could rival the warmth and love that radiated from her smile, a smile that held stories he could read, even from this distance.

Her hands, decorated with the deep dark henna she had obsessed over, were visible even from afar. She had insisted on keeping the henna on much longer than necessary, clinging to the old wives' tale that the darker the stain, the deeper his love for her.

Taking another deep breath, Murtasim allowed himself to bask in the depth of his emotions. "God, I love her, so much," he thought to himself, each second that brought her closer swelling his heart further. She was not just his soon-to-be wife; she was his promise, his tomorrow, his always.

As Meerab made her way toward the stage, his eyes met hers through the sheer fabric of her veil, a thousand unspoken words passed between them in that glance. Every struggle they had endured to reach this moment dissolved, reaffirming that every challenge was worth it for this singular exchange.

Memories painted themselves in vivid strokes in his mind. He saw her as she was when she first came to Hyderabad that first summer, her expression defiant, their heated arguments hanging palpably in the air. The image of her from the following summer flickered into his mind, an ethereal vision that had tested his resolve, her beauty washing over him, softening his defenses with its relentless tide.

With each year that passed, their encounters had woven themselves into his memory; she appeared before him in a kaleidoscope of colors, each outfit a testament to the changing seasons of their lives, some a reflection of the storm that once threatened to keep them apart.

There was a time when Murtasim had resigned himself to the belief that this day would never come, that the dream of seeing her as his bride was just that—a dream. But now, as Meerab walked toward him, it was as if the sun had burst through the clouds, her presence illuminating all the shadows of doubt that had once clouded his thoughts.

Tears, once strangers to his stoic demeanor, now traced freely down his cheeks, reflecting the emotions stirring within him. The past and present merged seamlessly as she drew closer.

As Meerab gracefully took her seat across from him, the delicate veil that framed her face and the curtain of flowers between them did little to hide the depth of emotion brimming in her eyes. The sheer fabric blurred none of the intensity of her gaze; if anything, it only accentuated it.

Murtasim, feeling the gravity of the ceremony bind him to the spot, sank onto the bench on his side of the stage. His gaze was steadfastly locked with hers, a silent promise that not even the slightest distraction could sever the connection they shared in that moment. The world around them seemed to pause, the air charged with the electricity.

Tears continued to brim in Murtasim's eyes, the weight of the moment pressed joyfully upon his chest. He mouthed a silent "I love you" across the small expanse that separated them, the words meant only for her.

Across from him, Meerab's eyes, already pools of unshed emotion, overflowed at his gesture. She nodded slightly, her lips forming the words "I love you" in return.

No sound was uttered, yet the message was as clear and as loud as if she had shouted.

The ceremony proceeded, and a red veil was gently placed over Meerab. Murtasim found it impossible to look away, his eyes tracing her every move, every subtle change in expression. The rest of the world—the rustle of fabrics, the soft footfalls of attendees, the ceremonial cadence of the Qazi's speech—faded into insignificance.

Then came the moment of profound stillness, the room holding its breath as Meerab was asked for her consent. Her response, "Qubool hai," rang out clear and resonant, filling the space around them.

She repeated it three times, loud and clear, and with each declaration, Murtasim's joy swelled.

As Murtasim awaited his turn, the weight of the moment settled over him. When asked, the words "qubool hai" left his lips as naturally as breath.

As the Qazi declared them husband and wife, the applause grew louder around them, enveloping the room in joyous celebration. Yet, for Murtasim, the world outside his immediate vicinity seemed to mute; his focus was on Meerab – finally his wife.

With a sense of urgency that betrayed his usual composure, Murtasim rose from his seat. His movements were swift as he reached out, his hands parting the delicate flower curtain that separated them throughout the ceremony. His fingers trembled slightly with anticipation as they moved to lift the veil concealing Meerab's face—his wife's face.

And there she was.

Meerab, the epitome of beauty, her presence so overwhelming that it momentarily stole Murtasim's breath.

Her eyes met his, and in them, he saw the reflection of his own emotions.

To his surprise, Murtasim found tears streaming down his cheeks again.

Meerab, too, was not immune to the emotional gravity of the moment; a soft sob escaped her as she beheld him.

Instinctively, Murtasim leaned forward, his hands gently cupping her face.

He placed a tender kiss on her forehead, kissing his wife for the first time.

Then, with utmost care, he brushed away the tears on her cheeks, no more tears.

Mirroring his actions, Meerab's hand rose to his face. Her touch was light as a feather, her fingers tenderly wiping away his tears as she cried even more.

Though their cheeks were wet, their smiles shone through the tears, radiant and full of the joy.

She was his wife now.

His wife.

That realization echoed through Murtasim's mind like a triumphant chorus, drowning out the hum of the world around them as they proceeded to sign the nikaahnama, making their union official.

"I love you," he whispered softly into her ear as he slipped a band onto her finger, snugly fitting it beneath the engagement ring he slid onto her finger once again.

His heart seemed to dance within his chest, a jubilant rhythm that crescendoed as Meerab, with grace that was all her own, slid a ring onto his finger, claiming him as hers in equal measure – she had insisted on it.

"Mine," she mouthed silently, her eyes gleaming with love.

He chuckled softly, his heart swelling with happiness. "Yours, forever," he affirmed.

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The rukhsati, which had begun as a series of poignant goodbyes and heartfelt photographs, quickly descended into outright chaos. Murtasim, who had been standing serenely by Meerab's side across from her tearful mother, found himself suddenly hoisted into the air.

For a moment, he was disoriented, the ground unexpectedly disappearing from beneath him.

"What the hell are you doing?" Murtasim snapped, as he realized Shahmeer and Zaki, grinning mischievously, were the culprits behind his abrupt elevation.

Before he could protest further, Rumi and Khirad swooped in, giggling like maniacs as they tugged his shoes off his feet. He sighed deeply, recognizing the age-old wedding prank unfolding at his expense.

"Seriously, this?" he asked, his tone irritated, as they dashed away with his shoes.

"Put me down this instant, I'll deal with you two later!" he snapped, the amusement of the surrounding crowd doing little to soothe his frustration, even his mother seemed amused.

As he was finally lowered back to the ground, he turned to find Meerab trying to stifle her giggles, her smile as wide as it was infectious.

His wife.

"YOU CAN'T LEAVE WITH MEERAB WITHOUT YOUR SHOES!" Rumi taunted from a safe distance, ensuring she was far enough to evade a quick pursuit.

In an unexpected twist, Murtasimbakri charged after Rumi, bleating loudly as if to rally the troops for a retrieval mission, her bells jingling madly. He knew he could only rely on her, her love for chewing his shoes likely behind her actions.

"Areeb, your vacation depends on your ability to get my shoes back," Murtasim declared, half-joking, half-serious, as Meerab's giggles filled the air.

With a nod, Areeb sprinted off after Rumi and Khirad, who had cleverly split up, each clutching one of Murtasim's shoes, turning the chase into a strategic game of tag. The guests were in stitches, laughter pealing through the venue as they watched.

Murtasim then fixed his gaze on Shahmeer, who was still chuckling at the unfolding spectacle. "If you want me to even entertain the idea of us naming our child after you and for me to forgive your part in this... get my shoe back," he threatened.

Shahmeer's laughter stopped immediately, his face growing serious as he took off in a sprint, calling out loudly, "RUMI YAAR COME BACK, NAHI TOH SHAHMEER AUR SHAHMEERA KA KYA HOGA?!" His voice echoed across the venue as he joined the chaotic pursuit.

Murtasim couldn't help but grin as he watched Areeb and Shahmeer sprint after Rumi and Khirad through the bustling crowd of wedding guests.

He was confident they'd retrieve his shoes; after all, he never lost.

Turning back to his wife, he caught Meerab rolling her eyes playfully at him.

"Always making others do your work," Meerab teased, her voice light and teasing.

"Of course, they do all the other things while I stare at my wife," he shot back with a broad grin, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

The people around them chuckled at the exchange, and Meerab looked away shyly, her cheeks tinged with a blush. Murtasim reveled in how perfect she was, especially in these unguarded moments.

Seizing the opportunity, he grabbed her hand, drawing her attention back to him.

Meerab's eyes widened in mock alarm as she attempted to pull her hand away, but he held on tighter.

"Shauhar hoon tumhara, haq hai mera," he whispered near her ear, asserting his rights as her husband in a tone half-teasing, half-serious.

She rolled her eyes again but her resistance melted into a smile, her affection for him clear.

Just then, Rumi and Khirad returned, breathless and empty-handed, yet curiously lacking any look of defeat. Murtasim's brows furrowed in confusion.

"Where are my shoes?" he asked.

"Hidden," Rumi replied with a mischievous grin, clearly enjoying the moment.

"Areeb and Shahmeer will find—" Murtasim started, but he stopped mid-sentence as he caught sight of the two would-be heroes returning, drenched from head to toe.

"They had a mishap," Khirad explained, barely containing her laughter. "You shouldn't run around pools."

"SHE TRIED TO MURDER ME!" Shahmeer bellowed as he approached, pointing an accusing finger at Khirad, water dripping from his clothes onto the floor.

Khirad merely shrugged, her innocence feigned so flawlessly it drew a burst of laughter from Meerab.

"I can just leave without my shoes," Murtasim declared, turning back to Rumi and Khirad, half-challenging, half-resigned to his fate.

They scoffed at his bluff and shook their heads in unison. "Paise nikalo," Khirad said firmly, invoking the customary demand for money if he wanted his shoes back—a tradition no amount of swimming or sprinting could circumvent.

Murtasim called out with a tone of urgency, "Bhaktu, chequebook!"

"Cash! What if the cheque bounces?" Rumi interjected immediately, her voice loud enough to draw chuckles from the surrounding crowd.

He turned to her, arching an eyebrow in mock offense. "Why would my cheque bounce?" he asked.

Meerab laughed, clearly amused.

"If it bounces, you have to bring Meerab back," Waqas chimed in from the side, his laughter mingling with others'.

"Baba!" Meerab scolded him playfully.

She would not be going back.

"How much is it going to cost me to stop this childishness?" he asked Rumi and Khirad, hoping to cut to the chase.

They shrugged nonchalantly, grinning cheekily. "How much ever you think Meerab is worth," they teased, obviously enjoying the moment.

He sighed again, recognizing the trap. They had planned this perfectly to squeeze him for all he was worth—at least, in terms of his shoes. But he was ready with his retort. "Meerab's worth more than all the money in the world, so I can't give you that," he declared confidently.

Meerab giggled, clearly delighted by his response, as laughter erupted around them.

"Smart move," his uncle laughed, giving him a hearty pat on the back, clearly approving of his quick thinking.

"10 lakh, donated to our NGO," Khirad suggested, pitching a new angle to the ongoing negotiation.

"Done," Murtasim agreed swiftly, his voice firm. He would have agreed to more.

"10 lakh?!" Rumi exclaimed, playfully whacking Khirad on the arm. "20 lakh," she countered immediately, trying to up the stakes.

"We already have a deal," Murtasim teased back, "now give me my shoes."

Just then, Meerab gasped, tugging at his hand. He looked down at her and followed her gaze, only to see a sight that brought an unexpected twist to the chaos.

Murtasimbakri was triumphantly trotting towards them with a pair of cream shoes in her mouth—his shoes! The goat seemed quite pleased with herself, dropping the shoes right in front of Murtasim and nudging them toward his feet. She bleated joyously, jumping around as if to celebrate her contribution to solving the shoe crisis.

Murtasim and Meerab burst out laughing at the absurdity and unexpected heroism of their goat.

"Who was supposed to take care of the goat?!" Rumi cried out.

"She has a name!" The words were uttered simultaneously by him and Meerab.

"We didn't plan for that," Khirad whined, watching helplessly as Murtasim slipped his slobbery shoes back on. The shoes were a bit worse for wear after their adventure in Murtasimbakri's mouth, but Murtasim didn't mind as he bent down to scoop up the mischievous goat, who was contentedly nuzzling his leg.

"Good girl," Murtasim praised her, scratching behind her ears affectionately.

Murtasimbakri responded with a pleased bleat, clearly enjoying the attention. Meerab joined in, petting their goat gently.

Turning back to the matter of the wedding games, Murtasim addressed his right-hand man. "Bhaktu, 20 lakh ka cheque likh do," he instructed, deciding to play along with the high stakes that had been set – for Meerab too worked at the same NGO.

Perhaps a donor would get to visit his wife at work and steal her away occasionally, it really was a part of a larger plan rather than a loss.

Rumi and Khirad squealed in delight at the mention of such a hefty sum.

Murtasim turned to his wife, finding her smiling warmly at him, her eyes sparkling with joy.

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"Murtasim!" Meerab squealed as Murtasim scooped her up in his arms and carried her through the threshold of their new home.

"Shhh, it's custom, remember," he reminded her with a chuckle, his voice echoing in the spacious entryway as she wrapped her arms tighter around his neck, recalling the last time he had done this, the day he proposed, and now months later, they were married.

She giggled as he theatrically stepped inside, pausing only to push the door closed with his foot. "Lock it, I don't trust our family or friends," he said, a mock-serious look on his face.

Chuckling, Meerab reached down and clicked both locks into place. Her squeal echoed through the foyer as he swung her around in a circle, her heels flying off and clattering on the tile, his own shoes kicked aside carelessly.

"Put me down now," she laughed, feeling the world spin slightly as he marched them towards the staircase, the lights of their carefully chosen fixtures bright and welcoming above them.

He shook his head, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "I am carrying you to bed," he declared with a wide grin.

She sighed and rested her head against his shoulder, feigning exhaustion. "Good, I am sleepy," she said, punctuating her statement with a theatrical yawn.

"You can't sleep!" he whined, his tone playful yet tinged with disappointment. Then, pausing, he asked seriously, "Seriously, are you that tired?"

She pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, her grin cheeky as she shrugged.

"Meerab," he sighed.

"Murtasim," she giggled in response to his feigned exasperation.

His grin widened, and there was a mischievous glint in his eyes that told her exactly what he was thinking. "It'll sound better when you moan it," he teased.

She whacked his arm lightly. "Murtasim!" she exclaimed, feeling her face flushing.

He chuckled, the sound warm and comforting as he continued up the stairs with her securely in his arms.

"We're going to fall," she warned him, her grip tightening around his neck.

"We won't," he assured her confidently, adjusting her slightly in his arms and playfully tossing her up a bit to make her scream.

"I am going to kill you!" she yelled, half-laughing, half-screaming.

"They did say women changed after marriage," he joked as he neared the top of the stairs, his steps steady despite the playful threat.

"I wanted to kill you many times even before we were married," she retorted, her tone playful yet pointed.

"And they say romance is dead," he teased as they reached the top of the stairs. "See, I didn't let you fall," he announced triumphantly, as if he had just performed a heroic feat.

"Put me down," she laughed, playfully swatting his arm, though she secretly enjoyed his antics – she wouldn't tell him just yet though.

"I am carrying you to our room," he declared with a tone of finality, his arms still securely around her.

"Our room," she whispered back, her heart swelling with joy at the simple declaration.

It wasn't just any room; it was theirs.

"And your closet," he teased.

She couldn't help but laugh, leaning into his touch and resting her head against his shoulder as he carried her across the threshold of their bedroom. The sight that greeted her made her gasp in surprise and delight.

The room was transformed from when she had last seen it. Off the large vaulted ceilings with exposed beams, garlands of red roses and twinkling fairy lights cascaded down, enveloping the room in a magical glow, as if they were in a forest with a thick rose canopy that was more concentrated above their bed.

Red flower petals were scattered everywhere, creating a path of vibrant color on the pristine floor, and tea lights flickered safely away from their path, casting soft, dancing shadows around the room. The main lights were off, but the room was bathed in a soft, romantic light that made everything look ethereal.

"Murtasim..." she trailed off, speechless. The room looked incredibly pretty, and she knew immediately that it had to be his doing. No one else had visited their home yet, his mother had thrown a huge tantrum about their insistence to go home from the rukhsati. This surprise had his touch written all over it.

He said nothing but walked them toward the bed, his steps slow and deliberate. Gently, he placed her down on the their bed.

She adjusted her lehenga as she sat, smiling up at him. "I am supposed to be veiled, no?" she teased, playfully trying to pull her veil over her face as brides traditionally did, laughing as he shook his head in amused exasperation.

Murtasim just looked at her, his breath leaving him in a whoosh, as if he was captivated by her. She arched her eyebrow at him as he sat down on the bed in front of her. He had taken off the turban he had been wearing earlier, his hair was a little messy, just the way she loved it. His beard, meticulously groomed, yet now a little longer, framed his strong jawline. The smile that was his lips was kind of smile that lit up his entire face, crinkling the corners of his eyes.

He made such a handsome groom.

"Meri biwi," he whispered reverently, his hand cradling her face, his thumb tracing her cheekbone.

She anticipated the kiss as he leaned in, and giggled, placing her palm between their lips, capturing his kiss on her hand instead.

"Meri muh dikhai?" she teased, invoking the traditional gift a husband gives his wife to see her face after the veil.

"I thought you just wanted me," Murtasim teased back, the laughter in his eyes matching the affection in his voice.

She rolled her eyes at his playful words, but inside, warmth spread through her chest.

He chuckled at her response and leaned in, placing a soft, lingering kiss on her forehead. Then he stood up, walked over to his nightstand, and opened the drawer. He returned with a deep red box and a matching envelope.

Meerab reached out her hand, eager and curious, but he playfully shook his head, signaling that patience was required. She sighed theatrically, her eyes locked on the Cartier box as he sat back down in front of her.

"Meri biwi ka haath please," he requested ceremoniously, reaching for her left hand. She placed it gently in his, a smile tugging at her lips as he kissed her hand before rolling up her sleeve. He opened the box, revealing a sleek gold bangle bracelet adorned with diamonds and a distinctive screw head between each pair of diamonds.

Her eyes widened as she noticed the engraving on the inside — their names and wedding date.

Murtasim carefully removed a small gold screwdriver from the box. "It's called the love bracelet," he explained as he deftly unscrewed it, the bracelet separating into two pieces.

She watched, mesmerized, as he placed the pieces around her wrist, holding them together, sliding the two screws into place, before using the screwdriver to secure the bracelet. "It's designed to be opened only with this screwdriver," he continued, his voice taking on a solemn note, "and to be put on by a loved one, someone who holds the key to your heart, as you do mine..." He carefully tightened each side, ensuring the bracelet fit her wrist perfectly.

Meerab looked down at the bracelet now adorning her wrist, the craftsmanship exquisite. The oval shape of the bracelet hugged the contours of her wrist, its snug fit a comforting weight. The diamonds sparkled, even in the soft lighting of the room.

"I love it," she whispered, her voice a breathless sound of awe. She couldn't help but lift her wrist, admiring how the diamonds sparkled with every movement, their brilliance a perfect contrast to the warm gold. "You know I hate—" she began, only to be interrupted as Murtasim finished her sentence with a knowing grin.

"Bangles because they're too big around your wrist but you can't size down because then they're too small around your hands, and that means they move too much," he recited, echoing her words from a conversation whispered into the darkness of her room on a night he had snuck in, one among the millions of words they had likely spoken to each other.

Her heart melted at his attentiveness. He had listened, truly listened, to her words, storing them away for this moment. "I love you," she whispered, the depth of her feelings for him enveloping the words.

"I love you too," he replied, his grin broadening as he pushed the red envelope toward her. "There's more."

Curiosity piqued, she reached for the envelope and pulled out a glossy card with the image of a red Range Rover on it, resembling Murtasim's own black Range Rover which he had recently acquired.

She arched an eyebrow in question, a little confused.

"Your car, it's in the garage," he said, his eyes twinkling, his love for cars shining through.

Meerab gasped, a hand flying to her mouth in shock as she registered that he had bought her a car. "You didn't!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide with astonishment.

"Of course I did," he assured her with an unabashed grin.

She laughed, feeling a mix of emotions from his grand gesture. "It's just the two of us," she pointed out, still grappling with the magnitude of the gift.

"I know, but what if I need to head to the village and you to work or somewhere in Karachi, you can't just wait for me all the time..." he reasoned, his voice filled with practical warmth.

"Are you saying you're no longer my chauffeur?" she teased, pouting for effect.

He chuckled at that, the sound rich and happy. "I always will be when I can... and I heard that Range Rovers are apparently super spacious and...safe for kids."

She nodded along, giggling at his foresight. "Thank you, I am sure our kids will love it just as much... when we have them," she teased.

"There's more," he grinned, his excitement palpable.

"Murtasim, you didn't have to—" she began, her heart already full to bursting.

"The next one is for me too," he interjected, his eyes shining with anticipation.

Curious, she pulled out another glossy card from the envelope. Her gaze flickered across dates and locations, and when she recognized France and Italy, her breath hitched. She looked up into Murtasim's eyes, shocked beyond belief, two of the destinations she had mentioned wanting to visit.

"There's apparently a bunch of these bridges where you can put a lock up together...they say it means your love lasts for a lifetime," he explained with a casual shrug that belied the romantic gesture it represented.

She laughed, a sound tinged with joy and disbelief. "We should go, just for the locks," she quipped, placing the card aside. And then a practical thought came to her, "but work..." she muttered, realizing the dates were just around the corner.

Murtasim grinned, "Khirad helped me, you're booked off work."

Overcome with affection for her husband, she cupped his face and drew him into a soft, grateful kiss. "Thank you," she murmured against his lips.

He hummed, a low, contented sound, following her lips when she pulled back slightly. "Where is my present?" he asked, his voice laced with playful curiosity.

Her eyes widened in momentary panic, she had left it in the car. "I forgot—"

He cut her off with a roguish grin. "Great, then you can be my present, and I can unwrap you."

She couldn't help but laugh, even as she playfully swatted his arm. "It's going to take a while to unwrap me; there's a million pins in my hair."

"I don't have to sneak out ever again, so we have time," he countered with a grin that reached his eyes.

"We're married," she whispered, the reality of their new life together settling around her like a soft, comforting blanket.

No more waiting, no more sneaking, no more solitude.

She could fall asleep next to him every night, and wake up next to him every day.

No one would stop them.

"We're married," she whispered again.

He nodded, a look of pure affection on his face. "You look like you just realized it."

She let out a light laugh, "Kind of."

"Meri biwi," he murmured fondly and leaned in for another kiss. They both laughed when her nath once again got in the way.

"This suits you," Murtasim commented as he delicately played with the ornate jewelry.

"It's so heavy," she whined playfully, her fingers working to unclasp it, allowing the nath to fall away from her face.

As she did, he squeezed her nose gently, eliciting a mock-protest from her. "Stop it!"

"You scrunched!" he defended his actions with a chuckle.

"That doesn't mean you have to squeeze it!" she protested, feigning annoyance.

"Yes, it does. That's your nose begging for a squeeze or a kiss," he said, his grin widening.

She glared at him as she started to unpin her dupatta, Murtasim joined in to assist, his fingers deftly and gently removing the pins one by one. When her dupatta fell away, he gathered the pins in his hand.

He accepted the maang tikka she took off next, placing it delicately in his lap.

"This would be easier with a mirror," Meerab muttered, wincing slightly as she tugged a little too hard at a stubborn hairpin.

"You're not allowed to move from here," Murtasim replied with a mock sternness.

Rolling her eyes with a smile that betrayed her amusement, Meerab stood and moved to the vanity, seeking the aid of her reflection. In the mirror, she caught sight of Murtasim pouting adorably on the bed as he began to unbutton the waistcoat he wore over his cream kurta, clearly muttering something under his breath.

"I thought you were going to help?" she teased, watching him in the mirror as she worked on releasing her hair from its styled confines.

Murtasim scrambled out of bed with a fluid grace that contradicted his earlier feigned petulance, making her giggle. Approaching her from behind, he reached around to help remove the remaining pins, his movements tender and attentive.

Meerab's hair cascaded down her back as the final pin was removed, and she let out a contented sigh, feeling the weight lifted from her scalp. Murtasim's hands brushed her hair over her shoulders, his touch sending a flutter of butterflies dancing through her stomach.

"You are so beautiful," he murmured, the words vibrating with sincerity.

His hands on her shoulders drew her gently back against his chest. There was a moment of quiet as they both looked into the mirror. The heat from Murtasim's body radiated through the fabric of her pishwas, the warmth anchoring her to the moment, to him.

The sensation of his breath against her neck, the steady beat of his heart against her back, and the softness of his hands as they traced the lines of her arms created an overwhelming sense of completeness. Meerab leaned back into him, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment as she savored the feeling of being so close.

Murtasim's fingers traced the ascent from Meerab's waist to her back, and then up to her neck, she felt each deliberate, slow movement like a gentle wave lapping at the shore of her skin. Each touch sent a cascade of shivers down her spine.

He deftly unhooked her necklaces one by one, the heavy pieces sliding over her skin, their coolness contrasting with the warmth of his fingers. As the pieces of jewelry relinquished their hold, they slipped down her chest, caught by her waiting hands before being set aside on the vanity.

When Murtasim leaned in to press a soft kiss to the back of her neck, Meerab's breath caught in her throat, a silent gasp escaping her lips. His hands ascended to her ears, and she could feel the delicate weight of her earrings being lifted away as he unscrewed the backs, his breath warming her earlobe in a gesture that felt both tender and possessive.

Meerab braced for the parting that didn't come; instead, Murtasim drew her even closer against him. His kisses continued their journey down her neck, igniting a trail of heat that her heart raced to match. His hands roamed across her waist, his fingertips drawing soothing circles over fabric that grounded her amidst the swirling tide of emotions.

Then, he paused to look at her, and she caught his gaze in the mirror.

It was an intense, consuming look that seemed to explore every feature of her face.

Her heart drummed a wild rhythm against her chest, and her skin rose in goosebumps at his touch, at the affection that laced his whispered words. "You're gorgeous," he said.

Meerab caught her reflection, she was a disheveled bride in the most beautiful way in that moment. She smiled at him through the mirror, a silent acknowledgment of his words and the emotions that swelled between them. His kiss, placed with such affection on her cheek, seemed to seal their silent conversation.

Murtasim's fingers then wandered to the neckline of her pishwas, the neckline deeper than most things she wore, tracing its edge before deftly beginning to unbutton the back. The tiny clicks of the unfastening buttons felt as loud as drumbeats in the hushed room, each one echoing the growing intensity of the moment.

It was like a dance of both remembrance and anticipation, her mind going back to a night just days ago when they had found themselves like this, his lips leaving a warm trail along her neck as he carefully pushed the sleeves of her top down, each movement unveiling her further.

In the reflection of the mirror, Meerab saw Murtasim's intense gaze locked on hers, his voice low and earnest as he spoke. "If you're tired, tell me to stop now," he said, his eyes searching hers for any sign of dissent.

She shook her head, her previous fatigue now replaced by a buzzing anticipation that vibrated through her every vein – she had waited far too long for him to give in to something as trivial as fatigue. Watching him, she noticed the visible gulp he took, his Adam's apple bobbing with a nervous excitement that mirrored her own feelings.

Then, his hands moved to the remaining buttons of her pishwas, deftly unbuttoning them down as far as they would go. She aided him, slipping the garment down her arms, and watched as it glided effortlessly down the silken lehenga underneath, leaving her in just that and a cream strapless bra that matched perfectly.

Murtasim's breath left him in a whoosh, a sound so close that she felt it by her ear. "You're so beautiful that I am lost for words," he murmured, his eyes roaming over her reflected image in the mirror, darkened with desire.

His left hand started at her waist and slowly glided upwards until it came to rest on her flat, bare stomach – his hand so large that it covered most of her skin. The warmth of his touch was electric, and Meerab shivered under his palm. Each touch seemed to resonate deeper within her than the last, and this time, she knew he wouldn't pull away. Her body screamed silently, begging for something more, something she found herself unable to verbalize yet felt intensely.

The touch of his fingers drawing circles on her skin sent waves of goosebumps across her body. She caught herself biting down on her lip as his gaze remained fixed on her, intense and unwavering.

Leaning in closer, Murtasim turned her face slightly to the side, away from the mirror, craning his head to meet her lips with his. Meerab sighed, tilting her face towards his more, welcoming the connection. As their lips met, Murtasim captured her mouth in a searing kiss. Their lips moved together with a purposeful intensity, his mouth pressing firmly against hers, coaxing her lips apart. The dance of their tongues was slow and deliberate, exploring and savoring each touch. As Murtasim deepened the kiss, Meerab responded passionately, her hands reaching up behind her to thread through his slightly disheveled hair, pulling him closer.

His fingers traced excruciatingly slow along her waist and up her back to her neck as they kissed, evoking a series of shivers. She felt herself melt into him, her gasps and sighs disappearing into the hollow of his mouth, fluttering against his lips like whispers.

Murtasim's tongue flicked out to lick her bottom lip as his fingers traced up her stomach, circling her belly button, bringing a smile to her face as he began to spell out letters on her skin once again.

His fingers moved up and then down and up again along the side of her stomach, tracing a M.

Then his finger moved from one side of her stomach to the other under her belly button, where she found herself to be extremely sensitive, tracing a U.

He ran his finger up beside her belly button, stopping at the top and circling it, before faintly moving his finger outwards in an R.

She giggled against his lips as he traced a simple T.

Not pulling away, he continued by tracing an A around her belly button again.

And then a S along the side of her stomach as he broke away, looking right at her, her neck still craned back to look at him, his gaze intense and full of affection.

The I he traced along her side, slowly.

And then M like he had the first one, completing his name.

"Murtasim," she whispered as his hands languidly glided up the side of her stomach, over her rib cage, and against the sides of her pert breasts. The sensation was electric, her body responding with an eager intensity to each contact.

He pressed his lips against hers again, capturing her mouth in a searing kiss. As their lips moved, a shiver ran through her, and she used the hand she had behind her, in his hair, to pull his head closer. His fingers moved along the contour of her covered breasts, this time through just the lace rather than layers, his touch electric.

His thumb moved over and around her nipples atop the fabric before he flicked the firming flesh, eliciting a moan that echoed his name, "Murtasim," between their lips.

He groaned in response against her mouth, his hands sliding down to her waist as he spun her around to face him, breaking their kiss. He then picked up her hand, placing a gentle kiss right over where the mehendi-wali had hidden his name.

"You found it," she pouted.

"Of course, I did," he smiled, his voice filled with desire.

Their eyes met, reverent and wide, as a silent communication seemed to flow between them.

Meerab saw the question in Murtasim's gaze, a tender inquiry made without words, waiting for her affirmation.

She nodded slightly, the gesture small but filled with meaning, melting into his body as their lips met again with urgency.

Caught up in the moment, Meerab barely noticed as Murtasim's arms wrapped securely around her. She didn't quite understand how he managed it, but suddenly she was being lifted from the ground, carried effortlessly towards their bed. The realization only dawned on her when he almost tripped over the hem of her lehenga. Their lips faltered, and they both tumbled onto the bed with a soft thump, Murtasim landing on top of her, his hands bracing on either side of her head to support his weight, ensuring he didn't crush her.

Meerab's wide eyes met his, and the absurdity of the moment caught up to them, bursting forth in shared laughter. "Sorry," he mumbled, his cheeks a little flushed—whether from their kisses or the embarrassment of the near-fall, she couldn't tell.

She just smiled up at him, shaking her head slightly to convey that there was nothing to apologize for. "I love you," she managed through her laughter, her hands moving to wrap around his shoulders and lock behind his neck, a gesture that drew him closer even as their laughter subsided into soft chuckles.

"I love you too, meri biwi," Murtasim murmured, his voice a soft rumble against her lips.

His words sparked a giggle from her, a sound that bubbled up effortlessly.

"What?" he asked, a playful glint in his eyes.

"Can I kiss you in bed now?" she teased, a sly reference to one of his rules, a rule that seemed almost amusingly obsolete now.

He chuckled, the sound rich and warm in the quiet of the room. Shifting slightly, he helped her move up the bed, settling on his knees to frame her body with his. Looking down at her with an expression that mingled affection with desire, he said, "You can do a lot more now."

Her cheeks flushed at his words, the directness making her heart skip a beat even as she laughed, a light, joyous sound that filled the room.

He groaned in response, a sound of mock exasperation that made her arch her eyebrow at him in question.

"You flush everywhere...and they jiggle when you laugh," he observed, his eyes flicking briefly to her chest.

She couldn't help but laugh again, this time swatting at him playfully. "Was that supposed to be romantic?" she chided, feigning annoyance but unable to keep the amusement from her voice.

Murtasim's action of picking up some of the rose petals that fell from the ceiling made a burst of laughter escape from Meerab. He scattered petals over her, their soft touch fluttering down like whispers against her skin. "Is that more romantic?" he teased, his eyes sparkling with mirth as he leaned in to kiss her once more, swallowing her giggles.

Meerab's hands instinctively clutched at his kurta as he hovered over her, the fabric gathering in her fists. The intensity of his kiss deepened, their breaths mingling, until he suddenly broke away to pull his kurta and undershirt over his head. However, his movements halted as the shirt stubbornly clung to his arms. Meerab watched, amusement lighting up her eyes as confusion painted his features, his struggle with the garment endearing.

She propped herself up, reaching over to guide his hands. "You haven't unbuttoned the cuffs," she pointed out, her fingers deftly moving under the fabric to release the buttons. They both chuckled as as she freed his other arm, leaving him gloriously shirtless.

"You're going to be the death of me one day," Murtasim muttered, his tone rather adoring.

"Hm?"

"You make me forget the simplest of things," he whispered, his lips brushing hers once more in a feather-light kiss.

As she pulled away, her laughter echoed softly in the room. "I think a bra might be too advanced for you then," she teased, her fingers dancing to the hooks of her bra, unclasping it herself. The garment slipped away, revealing more of her to his hungry eyes.

Murtasim groaned, a low "fuck" escaping him under his breath as he gazed at her, the sight apparently rendering him momentarily speechless. He drew back slightly, taking in the full view of her, his eyes tracing the contours of her newly revealed skin. His hand reached out, fingers trembling slightly as they touched the warm softness of her skin, tracing a path that made her shiver.

His eyes lifted to meet hers, a look of awe overtaking his features. "You're so utterly gorgeous," he whispered, reverence in his voice. He leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on her nose, eliciting a bright, affectionate smile from Meerab as he pulled back.

Her smile quickly morphed into a soft moan as he grasped her breasts with his hands, cupping and squeezing, seemingly fascinated. The contrast was stark and exhilarating—her soft skin against the roughness of his palms. As his thumbs flicked and pinched at her nipples, a deep groan escaped her, her back arching reflexively under his touch, pushing her closer to him.

"You make such pretty sounds," Murtasim murmured, his voice low and filled with appreciation. His words were punctuated by another pull at her nipple, eliciting a louder mewl from her. His approval was a groan, low and desirous, vibrating against her skin as her hands explored the breadth of his muscular arms, tracing the soft skin and hard muscle with a delicate touch that belied her escalating desire.

He guided her back down onto the bed, his body following, never breaking contact. The sensation of his weight settling over her sent a thrill through her, their bare skin melding with an electric shock as their upper bodies met. Her breasts pressed against his firm chest, the hard planes of his stomach aligning with hers, sending a cascade of butterflies fluttering wildly in her belly. Their lips met again in a kiss that was both a continuation and a deepening, exploring each other with an urgency that had been forbidden before.

As they kissed, both their fingers wandered, hers travelling over his soft skin and muscles, his igniting fires along every nerve ending in her body, making every part of her acutely sensitive to his touch. The way he made her feel was overwhelming, every brush of his skin against hers drawing shivers and soft noises from deep within her.

Breaking away from their kiss, they both gasped for air, breathless with need. Normally, this would be where he would stop, pulling back with a reluctance that was part agony, part necessity. But tonight was different. Tonight, there was no holding back. His hands continued their explorations, now more boldly over the rigid peaks of her breasts, his mouth following close behind.

He showered her neck with open-mouthed kisses, each one a delicate mixture of softness and suction, marking her. His attentiveness to her sounds, the quickening of her breath, guided him as his kisses ventured lower, tracing a path across her collarbone and circling her breasts.

With reverence, he cupped them, the warmth of his palms sending a jolt straight to her core. Drawing them gently towards his mouth, he paused, his hot breath teasing her skin just before making contact.

Her breath caught in her throat as Murtasim's mouth moved closer, his actions both gentle and assertive. The sensation of him suckling sent waves of pleasure coursing through her body, leaving her writhing beneath him in a haze of ecstasy as he moved from one to breast to the other, and back, and forth, and back, and forth.

Her soft whimpers seemed to fuel his desire, and he trailed kisses down her stomach, his tongue playfully circling her belly button before teasing along the waistband of her lehenga, his breath hot against her skin.

"Murtasim, please," Meerab found herself whispering, her voice laden with urgency and need. The intensity of her own desire surprised her.

She exhaled a deep sigh of relief as his fingers hooked into the waistband of her lehenga, sliding it down her legs. As he stood to let the fabric pool at the floor, his hands trembled slightly, betraying a hint of nervousness.

He groaned softly, his eyes roaming over her body laid bare before him sparing the lace that covered her heat. "So perfect," he muttered under his breath, admiration and awe lacing his voice as he stood at the foot of the bed, drinking in her appearance.

Meerab felt a momentary urge to cover herself, exposed under his intense gaze, but the admiration and desire in his eyes rooted her to the spot. She couldn't help but return his look, her eyes tracing the contours of his toned body, the softness of his skin contrasting with the defined muscles that tensed with each movement. Her gaze inevitably settled on the prominent bulge beneath his bottoms, and she swallowed hard, her body responding to the sight.

Instead of joining her in bed again, Murtasim leaned forward, his strong hand sliding under her back, lifting her with effortless strength. Meerab squealed slightly, surprised by the swift movement as she found herself sitting up on her knees at the edge of the bed, face-to-face with him. His lips captured hers again in a series of deep, breath-stealing kisses, each one more insistent than the last. The kisses were relentless, passionate, and all-consuming, taking her breath away and leaving her heart racing.

Meerab moved closer, wrapping her arms around him, their chests pressed together as his hands trailed around her back and up, tangling into her hair, pulling and moving her head to kiss her deeper.

He swallowed all her moans.

His hands felt like they were everywhere, igniting tiny fires across her skin, and every cell in her body seemed to cry out for more of his touch.

She pulled away, gasping for air, pressing her forehead into his shoulder as his hands trailed down her back, one of them wrapped around her stomach, fingers travelling side to side over the waistband of her panties, the heat and throbbing between her legs unbearable.

"May I?" he whispered softly, his breath tickling her ear. His voice was filled with such reverence and desire, it made her heart beat faster, her skin heating up at the mere anticipation of his next move.

She nodded quickly, her breathing already shallow.

His hand, warm and confident, slid past the waistband into her panties, making them both groan as his fingers encountered her wetness. The simple touch sent a shiver down her spine, her body reacting instinctively, pushing against his hand.

His fingers were careful and exploring, moving with curiosity. As they traced her slit, Meerab felt a rush of pleasure. She was surprised by how much heat one touch could generate, the sensation spreading like wildfire within her.

It took him a minute to find her clit, his fingers circling the nub gently, making her gasp.

"There?" he asked, his voice a husky murmur as he pressed a little more firmly.

A keen escaped her lips, her body tensing, her fingers gripping his shoulders. She nodded, her eyes fluttering closed as the pleasure intensified. She had tried it herself – after reading a couple of articles on what to expect due to her nerves, but it hadn't felt anything like what he made her feel.

He continued to explore her, his fingers slick with her arousal, moving in ways that made her gasp and moan. His thumb circled her clit, with just the right amount of pressure and speed, pushing her closer to the edge of something she didn't quite know.

"Look at me," he whispered, his voice was commanding yet gentle, pulling her back from the brink to focus on his face before her.

Opening her eyes, she met his gaze, intense and filled with an emotion that made her heart swell. He looked at her as though she was the most precious thing in the world, his eyes dark with desire but also sparkling with something deeper, more enduring.

"Beautiful," he murmured, his eyes locked on hers, the intensity of his gaze holding her in place even as his fingers continued their exploration

Meerab's breathing quickened, her chest heaving against his as she tried to maintain some semblance of control. But it was a losing battle. Each circle of his thumb, each press of his fingers, dismantled her defenses.

"Does this feel good?" he asked, his voice low and husky, as he looked into her eyes.

"Yes," she managed to gasp out, her voice a whisper of sound that barely rose above the rapid beating of her heart. The affirmation seemed to encourage him, his touch growing slightly more insistent.

Murtasim's eyes held Meerab's, an intensity glowing in them that sent shivers down her spine. She could see her own nervous excitement reflected in his gaze, as he slid one of his thick, long fingers inside her slowly, groaning as he did.

The sensation was immediate, electrifying, making Meerab gasp. The feel of him inside her was overwhelming, her inner walls instinctively trying to cling to his finger, craving more of him.

"So warm," Murtasim muttered, his voice rough with desire. He paused, his brow furrowing slightly with concern. "Tell me if it hurts," he said, his tone tender yet strained with his own arousal.

She shook her head quickly, biting her lip as he began to move his finger, slowly drawing it in and out of her. Like he was trying to learn what secrets she held inside as he watched her face closely.

It felt so good, the emptiness making her ache for more of him, her walls wanting to squeeze his fingers but not being able to.

"More," she found herself saying, a plea that was both a whisper and a cry.

Murtasim groaned, the sound so visceral that it made her toes curl. "Fuck, Meerab," he rasped out, his breath hitching as he slid another finger inside her. The fullness, the stretch—it was all-consuming.

She cried out his name, "Murtasim," as waves of pleasure coursed through her.

His fingers were unyielding, thick, and long, moving inside her in a way that left her mind blank, filled only with sensations and the repetitive chant of so good, yes, more as he captured her lips, kissing her while his fingers drove her insane.

As he added a third finger, her body tensed, a whimper escaping her, her nails digging into his shoulders. His fingers scissored within her, filling her in a way that was both pain and pure ecstasy, stretching her to the point of breaking, even with all the wetness that gushed between her legs.

The room was filled with the sounds of their mingled breaths and Meerab's soft cries.

He seemed to know exactly how to drive her wild, his fingers moving with a rhythm that was relentless, for what felt like hours, driving her absolutely mad. She wished she had begged for this sooner, she had deprived herself of this for months, she could have been -

Her thoughts broke off on a sob as he sped up. "Murtasimmm, please," she begged, her voice breaking as pleasure built up inside her, threatening to overflow.

Suddenly, he pulled his fingers out, leaving her bereft.

He gently pushed her back onto the bed, his movements swift as he tugged her panties away, discarding them with a decisive movement. There she was, laid bare under his gaze, her body still trembling from his touch, her breaths coming in short gasps, tears in her eyes, her need for him overwhelming.

Murtasim's eyes burned with a hunger that mirrored the wild, untamed rhythm of Meerab's own heartbeat. The air around them seemed to crackle with electricity as he looked down at her, his gaze intensely trailing down her body, fixing between her legs.

A deep, primal groan rumbled from his chest as he pushed his bottoms down, revealing himself fully to her. The sight of his erect length, thick and pulsing, drew a whimper from her lips.

Her eyes widened slightly, the reality of his size hitting her— a mix of intimidation and a visceral, undeniable desire. It was bigger, so much bigger than his fingers that had just been inside her, promising a stretch that both thrilled and scared her. Yet the fear was quickly overshadowed by an overwhelming need to have him inside her.

With an intensity in his eyes that she hadn't witnessed before, Murtasim wrapped his hand—the same one that had been exploring her just moments ago—around his cock, giving it a few tugs. The sight was so erotically charged that Meerab found herself whimpering again, her body responding with a rush of heat.

He then crawled over her, the heat from his body mingling with hers, turning the air between them thick with anticipation. His skin was hot against hers, burning yet so incredibly right. He settled his knees between her legs, his presence commanding and protective all at once.

Leaning forward, he captured her lips in a kiss so deep and consuming that Meerab felt like she was drowning in sensation, her senses overwhelmed by the taste of him, the feel of him.

"I need to be inside you," Murtasim groaned against her lips, his voice rough with desire. It was a plea, a declaration of need that echoed her own.

"Please," she found herself begging, her voice laced with urgency. Her body was ready, craving him. It had been for months, if not years.

Murtasim's hands then roamed up and down her legs, his touch coaxing her muscles to relax, encouraging her to open more fully to him. He positioned himself at her entrance, the head of his cock rubbing against her, sliding back and forth across her slick warmth. Every move he made drew a line of fire across her skin, making her tingle with anticipation.

The pressure built, a knot of need tightening in her stomach as she felt him at her entrance, teasing her, drawing out the moment until it was almost too much. Meerab let out a sound that was half-groan, half-moan, a raw noise that conveyed her impatience and desire.

"Please, Murtasim," she gasped, her hands reaching for him, pulling him closer. She needed him to quench the fire he had stoked within her, to fulfill the promise made by every one of his touches over the months.

His breath hitched sharply as he pushed into her, the tip of him sliding into her warmth, making her gasp from the sudden fullness. The stretching sensation overwhelmed her, his groans mingling with the air between them as he slid deeper, her body accommodating him more smoothly than she had anticipated, yet she felt stretched to her limits.

"Murtasim," she gasped out, the word a mix of panic and intense pleasure, her head falling to his broad shoulder. Her teeth found his skin, biting down as a reflex to the overwhelming sensations. Despite her rapid breathing, it felt insufficient; air seemed too scarce to draw in.

"Does it hurt a lot?" Murtasim's voice was rough, torn from deep within him, laced with concern. "I'll stop and—"

"No, don't," Meerab interrupted quickly, clenching her teeth and sucking in air sharply. "Just—need a moment."

Murtasim froze above her, his body tensing as he held perfectly still inside her, though she could feel his cock twitch, once, twice. The involuntary movement sent another rush of air escaping her lungs, her body responding instinctively by clamping down around him.

"Meerabbbb," he groaned, the sound pained as if she had wounded him.

She loved the way he groaned her name, by the sharp intake of breath as his eyes, wide and dark with desire, locked onto hers. Something primal within her stirred, wanting to elicit that reaction again. Focusing, she consciously clenched around him again, experimenting with her inner muscles.

"Fuck, Meerab," he groaned, the sound vibrating deep in his throat. The response his voice elicited sent a wave of heat rushing between her legs, igniting her desire further.

As if responding to an unspoken cue, Murtasim's lips found hers once more, kissing her deeply, urgently. His hips remained still, allowing her time to adjust. His lips, hot and demanding, found the delicate line of her neck, delivering open-mouthed kisses that drew soft gasps from her lips. His tongue flicked out, teasing the sensitive skin before descending to lavish attention on her breasts.

As Murtasim suckled her nipples, each pull echoed deep within her, sending shivers rippling through her body, wetness gushing between her legs. Meerab's fingers knotted in his hair, anchoring herself to him as waves of pleasure washed over her. The warmth of his touch, the pressure of him inside her, made her feel both stretched and filled in a way that was achingly delicious.

She rocked again him, helpless, wanting him deeper but feeling it was impossible with the way she could feel him in his throat.

"Move," Meerab whispered hoarsely, the edge of pain now replaced by an insistent pressure that begged for relief. She let her head fall back against the pillow, her grip on his hair loosening but still firm. Murtasim responded with a gentle roll of his hips, testing, teasing, drawing out the moment.

Meerab gasped, her breath catching in her throat as the sensation intensified.

"Okay?" Murtasim's voice was rough with concern, his breath warm against her ear.

Nodding, Meerab urged him on. "Move," she begged again, her voice thick with need.

Murtasim complied, his movements becoming more assured. The friction of his body against hers sent sparks of pleasure coursing through her veins. "You're so warm," he groaned, each thrust deepening, aligning perfectly to stoke the fire building within her.

A loud gasp left her as he rolled his hips again, her eyes rolling back, it suddenly felt so good.

"Should I stop?" he murmured, pausing to gauge her reaction.

"If you stop, I will kill you," she said, her tone serious enough to convey her urgency.

Encouraged, Murtasim resumed his movements, his rhythm now unyielding.

Meerab matched him, move for move, their bodies syncing in a dance they had never practiced yet somehow knew.

The drag of him inside her, the stretch and pull, made her keen with pleasure.

That delicate balance of pleasure and pressure swirled within her as Murtasim's movements became more confident, his hips rolling in a rhythm that seemed to draw deeper sighs from her with each pass. His every touch, every kiss planted along the sensitive trail of her skin, electrified the air between them.

Murtasim's gaze, intense and full of a heat that matched the flush spreading across her body, locked onto hers. His fingers, those adept, knowing appendages, traced the trembling contours of her waist and hips, mapping a path laden with shivers and soft moans that spilled forth uncontrollably.

"Tell me if it's too much," he murmured, the vibrations of his voice tickling her senses, making her writhe beneath him.

"It's perfect," Meerab managed to gasp out, her voice a breathy echo in the vast sea of sensations drowning her.

His movements grew bolder, each thrust punctuated by his deep groans that seemed to resonate within her.

His fingers found her clit again, sending a jolt through her entire body.

He adjusted his position, pulling back slightly only to press deeper into her, the sensation bordered on overwhelming.

"Oh. Oh—" she gasped out, the words dissolving into the heavy air between them.

"You feel so good," Murtasim murmured against her lips, his voice rough with desire. His movements were slow, almost reverent, but filled with a tension that promised more. His lips wandered across her face, pressing soft, breath-stealing kisses wherever they landed, his every thrust timed with an intimate press of his mouth.

"You can go faster," Meerab managed to breathe out, her voice a whisper of sound that was quickly swallowed by his deepening groans.

"Like this?" he responded, not waiting for her verbal cue as he adjusted his grip on her hips. His hands were firm, guiding her to meet each of his thrusts which now came with a controlled urgency. The change in rhythm drew a mewl from Meerab, her body responding instinctively to the increased pace.

She nodded.

"You take me so well," he groaned, his voice laced with both awe and pleasure. The words sent a thrill through her, her own arousal spiking at the praise. "Good?" Murtasim breathed out, his forehead pressed against hers, his breath hot against her skin.

"Yes, more," Meerab pleaded, her voice tinged with urgency. Her fingers gripped his shoulders, nails pressing into the muscle, marking him.

Meerab clenched her eyes shut, riding the waves of sensations that crashed over her.

Each of Murtasim's thrusts seemed to reach deeper somehow. Overcome by the intensity, she bit down on his lip in a sharp mix of pleasure and overwhelming sensation, drawing a groan from him that vibrated through them both.

Their bodies moved in a desperate rhythm, lost in the physical conversation that needed no words.

As Murtasim's pace grew wilder, so did the feelings coursing through Meerab, each thrust pushing her closer to a brink she both feared and longed for.

A warmth akin to fire raced through Meerab's body, each of his thrusts sending waves of heat coursing through her. His forehead rested gently against hers, his gaze never leaving her eyes. The air around them vibrated with the sounds of their union—the rhythmic slap of skin on skin, intertwined with their shared moans and heavy breaths.

She hadn't thought it'd be like this, this reality far exceeded the dreams that had trapped her in her mind, choosing unconsciousness over awakening.

She remembered that first dream of them together like this vividly, she had clung to it, thinking it'd never happen —laughing softly together as they undressed each other, sharing deep, starving kisses, feeling the gentle yet desperate touches. In her dreams, Murtasim's hands had been tender on her skin, just as her fingers had explored his with equal parts curiosity and ardor.

Now, as her hand found its way to his chest, resting over his racing heart, she felt the solid reality of his muscles, the powerful beat pulsing under her palm—a heartbeat she had once believed she'd only ever feel in dreams, was racing for her. Tears welled up in her eyes, not from pain, but from the overwhelming realization that this was no longer just a figment of her imagination.

Her dreams had come true.

And it was better than anything she could have imagined.

A sob left her then.

"What's wrong?" Murtasim's voice broke through her reverie, his movements slowing, concern painting his beautiful features.

She shook her head, emotion choking her voice as she spoke through her tears. "I love you," she cried out, her voice thick with emotion. "So, so much."

Understanding dawned on him, and he responded not with words but with a kiss imbued with all the depth of their shared years and the intensity of the moment. It was a deep, sealing kiss, their tears mingling.

Between kisses and thrusts, he whispered, "meri biwi" over and over again.

Meerab's arms instinctively wrapped tighter around him, pulling him closer into her embrace. The world outside seemed to blur into irrelevance as his thumb played with her swollen and sensitive clit.

His movements were precise—hard, fast circles that pushed her to the brink of her own sanity. Her entire being tensed, a breath caught in suspense, then released in a wave of fiery pleasure that radiated from their conjoined bodies outward.

Her walls clenched around him, desperate and rhythmic, as she gasped his name over and over again, her body never having experienced what she was right then, she felt like she had no control over herself.

Murtasim buried his face in the crook of her neck, his breath hot against her skin.

Her fingers dug into his back, marks of passion as she drew him ever closer. His hips jerked, not with faltering uncertainty but with an unstoppable force, his own climax building alongside hers as he groaned.

"Murtasim," she cried out as his movements became more erratic.

He responded in kind, his voice muffled against her neck, calling out her name in a breathy surrender.

She felt him pulse within her, the unmistakable twitch of his release mirroring the tumultuous spasms of her own body. Together, they crossed the threshold, his warmth flooding her as she shuddered beneath him, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.

The aftermath was quiet, save for their heavy, synchronized breathing.

The room, once electric with their cries, now hummed with a gentle silence.

Murtasim's lips moved softly against her neck and shoulder, each kiss a soothing balm on the heated skin.

Meerab's fingers found their way into his hair, scratching gently at his scalp, a gesture she knew he loved.

In the stillness that followed their intimate union, Meerab found herself grinning uncontrollably, her body alive with a pleasant buzz, her thoughts pleasantly foggy. The mystery of humanity's obsession with sex suddenly seemed not so mysterious at all.

Murtasim let out a long, contented sigh beside her minutes later, his voice trailing into a groan that vibrated with satisfaction. "That was..." he started, but words seemed to fail him as he slid out of her.

Meerab hummed, watching as he shifted to face her.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concern lacing his tone despite the smile tugging at his lips.

"Perfect," she assured him, nodding emphatically.

His response was to cup her face gently, his kisses soft and loving, interspersed with tender murmurs of "I love you."

"I love you too," she giggled in return, her laughter bubbling up as he wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug.

After a moment, she shifted slightly, feeling a natural urge pressing her. "I need to use the bathroom," she muttered.

Murtasim's hold tightened, and he made a playful, whining sound that she found utterly endearing.

"Murtasim," she laughed, gently prodding, "please."

He exhaled a playful sigh and rolled away, though he couldn't resist stealing another kiss. "Five minutes," he bargained.

"I need to shower," she announced, feeling a sticky sheen on her skin, the makeup sweating off her face, and her hair feeling hard from all the styling products.

"Haan, I'll be there in five minutes to shower with you," he responded with a mischievous grin.

The flush that rose on her cheeks was instant, showering together?

He chuckled at her reaction. "I can't believe you're blushing after all that," he teased.

She playfully swatted at his arm as she sat up, her eyes scanning for something to cover herself with. Spotting his kurta at the edge of the bed, she reached for it and slipped it over her head. The fabric fell around her in a comforting drape.

Murtasim groaned.

She turned to him, eyebrow arched in playful inquiry.

He just shook his head, a smirk playing on his lips as she stood up, her legs shaky from the sex, and perhaps the size of him.

Noticing her slight discomfort, she shot him a glare, which only made him press his lips together to stifle another laugh.

She walked to the bathroom with a bit of a limp. Just before she shut the door, she heard him chuckle again, the sound warm and fond, echoing lightly across the room.

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A/N: SOOOOOOO, WHAT DO Y'ALL THINK? Hehehehe. What was your favourite part of the chapter? And what are you looking forward to next?!