A/N: In the second chapter of the eight-part epilogue, we get to see a pregnant Meerab, and MeeraSim being all kinds of adorable. Hope y'all enjoy it, see you on the other side!

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Murtasim couldn't suppress a snicker as he stepped quietly into their bedroom, where the soft rustle of the curtains in the gentle breeze was the only sound disrupting the peace. There, curled up on their bed, was Meerab clasping a bag of chocolates to her chest, her lips murmuring unintelligible words in her sleep. Ever since their trip to Dubai for her 24th birthday, her cravings for sweets had intensified, where all she seemed to eat these days were just sweets.

His eyes lingered on the bed, where, amidst the soft pillows, lay the stuffed lion and cat they had won on their first date. Normally, the lion would be the one receiving her sleepy embrace in his absence, but today, it seemed the chocolates had won her favor. Murtasim's smile deepened at the sight, the warmth in his chest spreading at this small, endearing quirk.

Approaching the bed quietly, Murtasim reached out to gently pry the chocolate bag from Meerab's grasp, but she made a small, disgruntled noise and clutched it even tighter. The sound was so unexpectedly fierce for someone who was asleep that Murtasim had to bite back a burst of laughter. It seemed he wasn't permitted to take her snacks, even if she was more interested in holding them than eating them in her sleep.

Conceding to the silent declaration that the chocolates were to stay, Murtasim carefully picked up the plush lion and cat and placed them on the sofa by the bed. He then lay down opposite his wife, she was sleeping facing his side of the bed. These days, she often slept on her side rather than her back, but usually turned away from him, allowing him to curl up behind her and drape his arm around her, his hand resting protectively over her rounded belly.

It was rare to be able to watch her sleep, in that moment he was struck by how much she resembled a peaceful child, her head nestled into his pillow. He knew she found comfort there because it smelled of him; she had told him once that his scent made her feel safe. He understood perfectly—her own rose-scented perfume had the same effect on him, it was as grounding as it was intoxicating.

Lying there, observing her, Murtasim felt a deep sense of contentment. He cherished these quiet moments, the simple pleasure of watching her sleep, the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest, the soft parting of her lips as she breathed.

He always just observed, but when Meerab woke before him, he was greeted by the gentle touch of her fingers caressing his face, her hands playing with his hair. Her touch was light and filled with love, making him feel cherished, like he was the most precious thing in her world.

Each morning, as he opened his eyes to her loving gaze, his heart would skip a beat. The beauty of her sleepy, heartfelt smile filled him with an overwhelming sense of love and gratitude. In those quiet moments, as the world slowly awakened around them, Murtasim knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was the luckiest man alive to have her by his side.

He watched her then as she smiled in her sleep, a simple, unconscious curl of her lips that captivated him completely. God, he loved her smile. He reached out gently, letting his fingers trace the contours of her face, smiling himself when she sighed softly at his touch.

His wife.

The thought still sent a thrill through him.

His wife. The mother of his child.

Pregnancy had brought out an even softer, more affectionate side to Meerab. She blamed it on the hormones, claiming they were turning her into a sap, but he adored these changes. He loved seeing her pregnant, and now understood why so many men were fascinated by their pregnant wives. There was something profoundly touching about watching the woman you love carry and nurture your child; it was an experience so overwhelming that words barely did it justice.

The memory of hearing she was pregnant remained vivid in his mind, a moment so filled with euphoria that the details blurred into a haze of joy. He remembered kissing her tear-streaked face repeatedly, their shared tears not of sorrow but of unbridled happiness. They had longed for it—a family of their own.

Determined to keep her safe and happy, he might have gone a bit overboard with his protective instincts. He knew she found his overprotectiveness both annoying and endearing, but he couldn't rein it in. He had read that woman accidently walked into things, and had even suggested—half in jest—that she walk around with a pillow strapped to her stomach to avoid any harm.

It had been turned down with a very cute glare, and he had been whacked when he called her Meerabilli.

And while the idea of her wearing a bulletproof vest in public wasn't an outrageous ask either, she had declined with a glare.

He may have hired extra security to follow her discreetly, blending into the surroundings. She hadn't found out yet, and if she did, he'd deal with her wrath and sleep on the couch for exactly two hours before she found him and insisted that he come back to bed – whining about how she couldn't sleep without him.

He had quickly learned to relinquish control over certain topics though, especially after she gave him that look—the one that said she might actually murder him if he suggested one more "helpful" dietary tip from those parenting books he had been devouring.

Watching over her had become his second nature, observing every change, every new curve with a sense of wonder and deep affection. As her bump appeared and gradually became more prominent, his obsession only deepened. It was mesmerizing to watch the transformation, and he found himself repeatedly shocked and delightfully surprised whenever she wore tighter clothing that showcased her bump, highlighting the beautiful changes.

His attraction to Meerab had always been strong, but seeing her pregnant sent it into overdrive. There were moments he felt so overwhelmed by his feelings that he (gently) tackled her to the bed, expressing his love in the most physical of ways. His wife, it seemed, experienced a similar increase in attraction towards him. They couldn't keep their hands off each other, and it was a wonderful problem to have.

Amidst this whirlwind of mutual desire and affection, they began preparing for the arrival of their daughter. Setting up the nursery themselves, Murtasim felt as if he was floating on cloud nine. Their baby was developing perfectly, Meerab was both happy and healthy, and everyone important in their lives shared their joy. The nursery they were putting together was shaping up to be perfect—a cozy, welcoming space that would soon be filled with the soft coos and cries of their daughter.

Murtasim gently placed his hand on Meerab's bump then.

A soft whisper of "hi" escaped his lips as he felt a strong kick in response.

He smiled, a deep, heartfelt smile, as he rubbed Meerab's belly.

Meerab often remarked that the baby kicked the hardest when he spoke, a fact that filled Murtasim with an indescribable mix of pride and tenderness. He couldn't wait for the day when their daughter would join them in the world outside, curling up between them during nap times instead of him just resting his hand on Meerab's belly.

Murtasim watched Meerab as she shifted slightly, burrowing further into the pillows. A soft sigh escaped her lips, murmuring his name in a way that made his heart dance in his chest. "Murtasim."

The sound of his name, whispered with such affection and a hint of sleep-induced contentment, never failed to make him grin. It was her unique way of saying it—no one else could ever make it sound quite so special.

Watching her, a tender smile played on her lips, and he couldn't help let his eyes trace the lines of her face with adoration.

"Is there something on my face?" Meerab mumbled, her eyes fluttering open slightly as she yawned. The sleepy haze still clung to her, making her words slow and her movements languid.

"Nope, you're just so beautiful that I can't stop staring," he replied, his voice low and filled with warmth.

She snorted at his comment, her eyes closing again. "Don't be cheesy when I am still half asleep," she mumbled, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards in a faint, amused smile.

"Is there a reason you're cuddling a bag of chocolates, meri jaan?" he asked, his curiosity piqued by the sight of the chocolate bag she clutched against her chest.

Meerab opened her eyes slowly, her gaze clouded with sleep as she looked down and noticed the bag of chocolates. "My husband was late for our scheduled afternoon nap and the chocolates were the only other nauseatingly sweet thing available," she quipped, her voice thick with sarcasm yet affectionate, a hint of a smile playing on her lips even as she teased him.

"I got held up in a phone call," he explained, reaching out to gently take the bag from her and placing it behind him on the side table.

She scooted closer to him, her movements careful as she tried to curl into his body, her protruding stomach making it a challenging but endearing endeavor. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, tucking her head under his chin. "I am going to hug you so tightly as soon as this belly is out of the way," she whispered into his neck, her breath warm against his skin.

He chuckled softly, feeling the vibrations of his laughter through her body against his. "Sounds like a plan," he whispered back, his voice a soft murmur in the quiet room.

"I love you but don't eat my chocolates or I'll hurt you...I counted them," she mumbled into his neck, her voice drifting off as sleep reclaimed her.

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In the midst of Shahmer's bustling yet simple nikaah and baarat, Murtasim was caught in a tender exchange with Meerab.

The soft whisper of her voice, "more rasmalai," gently tugged him away from the sea of conversations and laughter surrounding them.

He turned to her, one eyebrow arching playfully as his gaze shifted from the three empty bowls on their table back to her expectant face.

She met his teasing look with a pout, pushing her bottom lip out in a way that immediately commandeered his full attention. His breath caught in his throat for a moment as he looked at her - she was stunning, her hair falling in soft waves, her makeup enhancing her natural beauty with a warm glow.

"Your daughter wants it," Meerab claimed, her hand tenderly rubbing her belly beneath the folds of her mustard anarkali. The rich fabric, adorned with intricate embroidery, seemed to flow around her like a river of gold, and Murtasim was once again awed by how beautiful his wife looked in everything.

"Shahmeer is going to call her Shahmeera forever if we finish all the dessert at his wedding, meri jaan," Murtasim teased her, a sparkle of humor in his eyes.

Her eyes narrowed, feigning annoyance, "Fine, I'll get it myself," she huffed.

His chuckle was deep, "I'll get it for you, jalebi with ice-cream as well?" The offer of her suddenly favourite combination hung in the air between them.

Her eyes widened in surprise, "They have jalebi?"

He nodded.

With a swift, playful motion, she whacked his arm, "and you didn't tell me sooner?"

He laughed again, "You didn't ask."

"Murtasim Shahnawaz Khan!" she hissed.

"Ji, Mrs. Khan?" he responded with an exaggerated formality.

She rolled her eyes at him, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips, "Go, your baby demands it."

With a loving laugh, Murtasim leaned in and pressed a kiss to her beautifully rounded stomach, murmuring affectionately, "You wait right here, abbu will go get you more food."

As he straightened up, ready to fulfill the sweet whims of his wife and daughter, Meerab's hand shot out, capturing his.

She pressed it firmly to her belly.

"She kicked," Meerab announced, her grin wide and joyful.

Murtasim grinned as he felt the tiny movements again. "It really must be her that wants the desserts then," he teased his wide.

Meerab nodded, the picture of innocence, as Murtasim stood up, ready to navigate the wedding crowd in the pursuit of rasmalai and jalebi, for his wife and their soon-to-be-born daughter.

Murtasim returned from the dessert table, the bowls of rasmalai and jalebi with ice-cream carefully balanced in his hands. He could already imagine the glee in Meerab's eyes, the way her face would light up at the sight. His focus was solely on her as he walked towards their table, his world narrowing to the love of his life.

As he neared their table, he noticed the sudden shift in Meerab's expression. Her eyes, usually so full of warmth and humor, flickered with a trace of panic as they met his.

Curious and slightly amused by her distress, Murtasim's gaze drifted upward to the couple that had approached their table.

A groan escaped him before he could stop it—Asma and Aslam stood there, the very same Asma that had been engaged to him and to whom Meerab had made certain... declarations to get her to run away with Aslam. The truth was about to see the light of day.

"This is my husband...Murtasim," Meerab introduced, her voice tinged with a feigned casualness as he placed the desserts down.

Asma's eyes were as wide as the bowls of sweets in his hands. The silence stretched just a moment too long before she blurted out, "But you were marrying the doctor...were you forced to marry him?"

Murtasim's eyebrows rose to his hairline, she had told her she would marry Zaki?

"N-nahi, I wouldn't say I was forced," Meerab stumbled over the words, her eyes darting between Asma and him, while Aslam looked on, confused.

"But you said he was the last person you would ever marry!" Asma pressed, her confusion clear as day.

"Acha?" Murtasim couldn't help the scoff that slipped out, the edges of his mouth twitching in amusement. He slid into the seat beside Meerab, his interest thoroughly piqued. It seemed he was about to learn what she had told Asma back then, it seemed like it had been eons ago, but Meerab never told her exactly how she managed to convince Asma to run away.

"I didn't say that..." Meerab protested weakly, shaking her head in denial.

Asma leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "you said he was an absolute tyrant, not capable of love...a man-whore." The last word was said so softly it was almost lost in the noise of the wedding hall.

Murtasim couldn't hold back his reaction. "I see," he said dryly, his character had been assassinated to that degree.

He spooned a bite of the rasmalai into his mouth, all while fixing his gaze on Meerab, stealing her dessert. Her glare was potent, and she made a half-hearted attempt to reclaim her bowl of sweets. But then, as if remembering the conversation at hand, she looked away, nervously clearing her throat.

"Did I say that..." she chuckled, the sound more nervous than mirthful.

Asma's nod was firm, almost vigorous.

"I – people change." Meerab's shrug was nonchalant, but the slight flush creeping up her neck betrayed her.

Asma, clearly still skeptical, leaned in closer. "Did he force you to..." she began, but the sentence hung unfinished, laden with unspoken implications.

Murtasim cleared his throat, capturing Asma's attention with a slight gesture. "We lied to you... I love Meerab, always have, always will, she loves me too," he confessed.

Asma's eyes widened in shock, flicking to Meerab for confirmation. "You lied?" she asked, almost incredulous.

Meerab gave a sheepish nod, her cheeks tinged with the soft hue of embarrassment.

"You love him?" Asma pressed further.

Another nod from Meerab, accompanied by a hesitant, apologetic "Sorry?"

The situation, ripe for drama, took a lighter turn as Asma unexpectedly burst into laughter. "I should be angry, right?"

"You married the love of your life too due to our lie, so no?" Meerab pointed out.

"Haan, and Meerab married a tyrant manwhore incapable of love," Murtasim chimed in, unable to resist teasing her, she would be paying for that later.

Meerab turned to him, her pout deepening. "I didn't mean that," she whispered, the words barely escaping her lips.

"Acha?" Murtasim responded, helping himself to another spoonful of her rasmalai, it really was the best way to get back at her these days.

He caught the subtle twitch of her nose, a sure sign of her growing urge to chastise him for pilfering her dessert—a reaction undoubtedly held back by the current confession playing out.

"I am sure you're not," Asma laughed off, then her curiosity piqued. "Congratulations on the baby, how far along are you?"

"7-and-a-half months," Meerab shared, her voice warm with the love of a soon-to-be mother.

"Do you know if it's a boy or girl?" Asma inquired, leaning in with interest.

"Girl," Murtasim replied with a sense of pride that could inflate the entire room.

Meerab sighed. "I really am sorry for lying to you... but everyone won this way," she said, her gaze shifting to Aslam, including him in their circle of serendipity.

"Shahmeer was in on it too?" Aslam asked, a touch of humor in his tone.

Meerab's nod confirmed his suspicion.

Aslam laughed, the sound hearty and genuine. "That asshole," he said with affectionate exasperation. "I knew it was suspicious he was being so helpful for nothing in exchange."

"He didn't make you promise to name your firstborn after him?" Murtasim quipped, joining in the laughter that now bubbled freely among them.

Aslam's laughter continued, "No."

Shahmeer's voice boomed cheerily from behind them. "Oh look, all my favorite people at one table!" His timing was impeccable.

As Shahmeer approached, Meerab quickly reclaimed the bowl of rasmalai, giving Murtasim a pouty look and a silent, apologetic mouthing of "sorry" before she dug in.

Murtasim couldn't help but chuckle, his heart melting a little more with every pout she gave.

After exchanging greetings with Asma and Aslam, Shahmeer turned his attention to Murtasim, who seized the opportunity to tease the groom. "Nervous still?" he asked, an amused glint in his eye.

"Nahi, I've been ready. Watch my father-in-law though, I don't trust him to not run away with Shibra," Shahmeer replied with an earnest seriousness that belied the joyful occasion.

Meerab couldn't hold back a snicker at the comment. "On it," she said, still holding the rasmalai protectively.

Shahmeer's gaze then shifted to Meerab's stomach. "How's Shahmeera today?" he inquired with a hint of mischief.

At the mention of the name, Murtasim let out a sigh, while Meerab rolled her eyes—a silent exchange that spoke volumes about their opinion on the moniker.

"Shahmeera?" Aslam echoed, his confusion evident.

"Shahmeera Khan, their daughter, my god-daughter," Shahmeer declared with a proud lift of his chin, as if the name was already set in stone.

"We're not naming her that," Murtasim sighed.

"After ALL I've done for you," Shahmeer mock-protested, a dramatic hand to his chest.

"What have you done for them, Shahmeer?" Aslam probed.

Shahmeer faltered. "I – uh – nothing, nothing at all. HAHA. Small world isn't it, all of us here, together, HAPPY with how things turned out," he laughed, a bit too loudly, before quickly excusing himself. "I think Sukhi is looking for me, see you."

His hasty retreat was nearly a sprint, leaving the group in a fit of laughter. 

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A/N: So, what do you think? What was your favourite part of this chapter? Hehe.

In the next chapter, we'll meet Meerab and Murtasim at 25, 28 - with a baby Meesam!