A/N: Oh hi! I am glad so many of you enjoyed the last chapter! I always love writing Murtasimbakri's POV so much, and your reactions are hilarious. But now we're back to Meerab's POV for some revelations and tons of fluff! See you on the other side!

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Meerab's awakening was gentle, the sound of the door unlocking and Murtasimbakri's little hooves clicking against the floor softly breaking the silence of the early morning. Her eyelids fluttered open, and for a moment, she needed to gather her bearings. As her gaze settled on Murtasim, her breath hitched, her heart suddenly quickening with the rush of memories from the previous night.

Despite the short hours of sleep, a profound sense of peace enveloped her despite her racing heart, a rarity in her often-tumultuous thoughts. She lay there, absorbing the tranquility, her mind unusually quiet, almost serene. The room, bathed in the soft light of dawn, seemed to echo her inner calm.

Her eyes lingered on Murtasim, the man who had finally bared his soul to her, uncovering every thought and feeling she had yearned to hear. He loved her. That much resonated in the silent space between them. He had stayed by her side through the night, just as she had requested, choosing the hard floor over the comfort of her bed.

His proximity, a tender balance of closeness and respect, was strangely comforting, yet it stirred a mix of emotions within her. She remembered their past closeness, how natural it had felt to wake up entwined with him, even though handcuffs had been the reason. Now, in their newfound freedom, Murtasim's self-imposed boundary was both reassuring and puzzling.

Meerab's mind drifted back to the kiss that had haunted her for so long, a moment that had once made her question the nature of his affection. After he had labeled that kiss a mistake, she had grappled with the fear that his attraction to her, the one that had led to the kiss, might have been purely physical, devoid of the deeper emotional roots tht had characterized her own feelings.

It had been one of the thoughts that gnawed at her, creating a chasm of uncertainty and pain. Now, as she observed his careful distance, she saw it as a deliberate choice, a testament to his genuine feelings that went beyond mere physical attraction.

This man, who had access to every luxury and convenience, had deliberately chosen discomfort for her sake. His decision to respect the boundaries of their evolving relationship, to be there but not overstep, resonated with her in a way that healed the doubts and misunderstandings of their past. It was as though Murtasim was showing her, in the most humble and genuine way, the depth and sincerity of his love – a love she had always hoped for but never dared to believe could be.

A newfound boldness took hold of Meerab as she reached out, her fingers brushing his face gently. She swept his hair away from his forehead, her touch more confident than ever before. The hesitancy that once clouded her actions, especially when she had found him sleeping beside her in the hospital, had vanished. There was a new rightness in the gesture, a permission granted silently through his vulnerabilities laid bare the night before.

Her touch lingered, tracing the contours of his cheeks with a delicate caress. As she did, he stirred, a soft sigh escaping him as he slowly opened his eyes, moving his head so his chin rested against the mattress rather than his cheek. The sight that greeted her was endearingly vulnerable—a sleepy Murtasim, his eyes half-lidded, exuding an almost childlike innocence. A smile slowly crept across his face, a simple, heartfelt expression that made Meerab's heart flutter.

"Good morning," he murmured, his voice a whisper that held the warmth of a thousand sunrises.

"Good morning," she replied, her voice equally soft, a smile playing on her lips. In that quiet morning hour, with sunlight filtering through the curtains, everything felt right.

Murtasim looked like he was going to say something, but their brief exchange was interrupted by the distinct sound of hooves clacking and the soft hum of her father's wheelchair.

Panic seized Meerab as her eyes flew to the door, it was ajar, exposing them to any passerby's curious gaze.

In a frenzied rush of panic and desperation, Meerab's actions were a whirlwind of swift, deliberate movements, her heart hammered against her chest, a symphony of dread and urgency.

"Hide!" The word was a sharp command, laced with fear, as Meerab sprang from the bed. Her eyes, wide with alarm, darted to the door again as Murtasim scrambled to get up, hissing a little as he straightened out, his body likely stiff from sitting on the floor.

Time seemed to slow and hasten all at once as Meerab lunged towards Murtasim, her hands urgently pressing against his shoulders, propelling him towards the closet yet again. Murtasim, caught off guard, stumbled backwards, guided by Meerab's insistent shoves. Her hands were firm on his shoulders, steering him like a ship navigating tumultuous seas. She felt the fabric of his kurta under her fingers, the tense muscles beneath betraying his own spike of adrenaline.

As Murtasim finally ducked into the closet, and closed the door, Meerab's breaths came in sharp, quick gasps. She could hear the ticking of the clock, each second thunderous in the silence of the room. She slid across the floor, her feet barely touching the ground, every muscle in her body coiled tight with tension.

Reaching the door just as her father's wheelchair came into view, Meerab's mind raced. Murtasimbakri, ever the curious accomplice, stood to the side, her little hooves a tell-tale sign of potential chaos – she would rat them out if she could. In one fluid motion, Meerab scooped up the goat, her arms wrapping around the animal's body, securing her before she could bolt towards the closet and reveal their secret.

Meerab's voice, when she greeted her father, was a nervous flutter, a stark contrast to her usual calm demeanor. "Good morning!" She managed to muster, hoping her tone masked the chaos that had just ensued. "How are you feeling?" The question about her father's well-being was a lifeline, a desperate grasp at normalcy in the whirlpool of panic she was drowning in.

"Better," he replied with a small, knowing smile. The look in his eyes unsettled her, suggesting an awareness she wasn't prepared to confront.

"Did you eat yet?" she asked, desperate to steer the conversation away from any perilous grounds.

He nodded, "Yes, Anila and I had breakfast before she left. You slept in today."

Meerab let out a nervous giggle, "No work today," she said, a great excuse given it was a Saturday.

"Your goat is especially hyper this morning," her father observed, casting a glance at Murtasimbakri who was still eyeing the room with a peculiar interest while bleating.

Inside, her mind screamed for Murtasimbakri to remain silent, to not betray the man hiding just a few feet away. She felt the weight of her father's gaze, a knowing look that sent shivers down her spine.

"I think she licked up sugar or something," Meerab replied hastily, her mind racing with the need to get her father out of her room and Murtasim safely out of her closet. "I'll take her outside soon."

"I see. I thought she wanted to show me something," her father remarked, his tone laced with an unspoken understanding that made Meerab's heart pound. Was he aware? Did he suspect anything?

"Maybe she just missed having you home," Meerab shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "I'm going to freshen up. Do you want me to take you back to your room?" she offered, seeking any excuse to end their conversation.

He shook his head. "I'll manage."

Meerab nodded, her heart pounding as she watched him start to roll away. The hallway seemed to stretch endlessly, each turn of his wheelchair echoing in the stillness of the morning, and then he abruptly stopped.

"By the way, Meerab..." His voice, casual yet firm, sent her stomach sinking.

"Hmmm?" The hum left her, a feeble attempt to mask the nervous tremor that had taken hold.

"You should have breakfast in my room...bring Murtasim too, I need to talk to both of you." The nonchalance in his tone was unnerving.

In that instant, Murtasimbakri, who had been nestled comfortably in Meerab's arms, slipped out of her arms and dropped to the floor, her arms giving out. The goat let out a startled bleat, mirroring the scream that erupted silently in Meerab's mind.

Her thoughts raced in turmoil.

Had he seen Murtasim?

Was this a bluff?

Did she call him out on it and pretend like Murtasim wasn't there?

Or did he know?

Then, like a seasoned lawyer laying out evidence, her father's voice cut through her panic, his eyes flickering over her face. His observations were precise and damning. "I can see down the road where he parked last night before sneaking in. His shoes are by your bed, there's a blanket on the floor, and his shawl is on the sofa...and your room smells like him."

Of course, he would have noticed. Despite the fog of painkillers, nothing escaped his observant eyes.

"I – I can explain." Meerab's words stumbled out of her, her voice barely a whisper.

A cold wave of dread washed over her. Fear gripped her heart, squeezing it tight. This was catastrophic. In their society, the implications of a man in her room were grave, scandalous., it was worse than committing murder. Her mind spun with the possible consequences, each more disastrous than the last.

"I am sure you can, 10 minutes, Meerab." Her father's ultimatum was delivered with a finality that left no room for argument. He then disappeared, leaving a trail of panic in his wake.

He would kill Murtasim! The thought sent a shiver down her spine.

Meerab's heart raced as panic gripped her. This was not the way she had envisioned revealing her...relationship with Murtasim to her parents. She hadn't actually gotten that far, but she hadn't imagined this.

She dashed back into her room, her steps echoing her frantic heartbeat. Swiftly, she flung open her closet door and slipped inside, closing it behind her, as if it was her new sanctuary, one she wouldn't leave. The closet was dim, lit only by a small, round window at the top, casting a faint glow on Murtasim's face.

"He knows!" she whispered sharply, her voice laced with nervous energy.

Murtasim, still appearing somewhat sleepy, raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Your father?" His voice was low, his eyes widening as he grasped the gravity of the situation.

She nodded vigorously, her words tumbling out in a rush. "He knows...he saw your shoes, your shawl. I think he saw you when you parked your car down the road and walked here...his window overlooks that spot!" Panic surged through her, her breaths coming in short, quick gasps as if the air in the closet was thinning.

"Meerab, shhh," Murtasim's voice was a soothing balm as he stepped closer, his hands gently cupping her face. "Take a deep breath."

She complied, inhaling deeply, feeling a slight calm settle over her.

"It's okay, we'll tell him."

She shook her head, her eyes wide with fear. "Tell him what? That I was supposed to be getting engaged in a few days to another man, but gave him the ring back, and on the same night, you spent the night in my room?! That's the worst thing we could do! He'd rather I commit murder. HE'S GOING TO KILL YOU!" The words hissed from her lips, each syllable sharp with terror.

Murtasim shook his head, his grip on her face firm yet gentle. "Shhh, Meerab. He won't. Think about it. If he was going to make a big deal out of it, he would have said something when he saw me parking the car and coming to your room, and not leaving...he let me stay the night."

Her eyes searched his, looking for assurance in his calm demeanor, as the reality of his words slowly sank in.

Meerab inhaled deeply, feeling the air fill her lungs, steadying her racing heart. Murtasim's logic had a grounding effect on her swirling thoughts. Her father had known, yet he had chosen not to intervene, not to cause a scene. This realization brought a flicker of hope, but her nerves still jittered like a tightly wound spring.

"I am scared," she admitted, her voice a whisper of vulnerability.

"Don't be," Murtasim responded softly, his fingers gently sweeping her hair behind her ears. His touch was tender, reassuring. "I am here with you, we'll deal with it, together, okay?"

She nodded, finding solace in his presence and words, in the steadfastness he always seemed to embody, it was something she thought she had lost, but here he was again, standing by her.

He leaned in, his lips gently brushing her forehead, leaving a whisper of a kiss. "I love you," he murmured, and those three words resonated within her, echoing in the chambers of her heart. She yearned to echo them back, to profess her love as she had rehearsed countless times alone, but the words clung to her tongue, unspoken. Her love for this beautifully flawed man, who had inadvertently led them both through a labyrinth of pain, was undeniable but so was all they had gone through.

Yet, she couldn't push him away. Closing the distance between them, Meerab stepped into his embrace, burying her face in the warmth of his chest. Her arms encircled him, clinging to the solid reality of his presence. For a moment, she sought refuge in the simplicity of the hug, a brief respite from the chaos that awaited them outside this closet.

As Murtasim's arms enveloped her, a sense of security washed over her. His hand traced soothing patterns down her back, a silent reassurance that reverberated through her. His heart pounded against her ear, a rapid rhythm that oddly soothed her frayed nerves. In that embrace, encased in the circle of his arms, the world outside, with all its uncertainties and fears, momentarily faded away.

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Meerab's heart was racing as Murtasim's knuckles rapped against the wood of her father's bedroom door. She could feel the tension emanating from him, a subtle undercurrent beneath his composed exterior. His grip on her hand was firm, unyielding, yet it brought her an unexpected sense of calm amidst the storm of emotions swirling inside her.

"Come in," came her father's voice from inside the room.

Murtasim pushed the door open, stepping into the room with Meerab in tow. The sight that greeted them was not what Meerab had braced herself for. Instead of an irate father ready to unleash his fury, they found him seated calmly, a book in his hand, with a tray of breakfast and tea laid out on the table. It was a scene of domestic tranquility that felt oddly dissonant with the chaos of their emotions.

Murtasim greeted her father with a collected demeanor that belied the intensity of his grip on Meerab's hand. Her father's gaze shifted momentarily to their intertwined fingers, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken words hanging in the air.

"You're not going to apologize?" her father asked, an eyebrow arching inquisitively at Murtasim.

"I haven't done anything that I would need to apologize for," Murtasim responded, his voice carrying a quiet confidence that Meerab had come to associate with him.

"You spent the night in my daughter's room, you're holding her hand...may I remind you that she's betrothed to marry someone else...as are you," her father pointed out, his voice steady but layered with an undercurrent of sternness.

Instead of responding directly to the accusation, Murtasim posed his own question. "You saw me last night, why didn't you try to stop me?" His inquiry was direct, challenging even, yet there was a curious calmness to his tone. It was as if he was inviting a conversation rather than bracing for a confrontation.

The weight of her father's sigh seemed to fill the room, a tangible presence that brought a hush over the tense atmosphere. "Oddly, it's because I trust you, Murtasim. As much as I trust Meerab," he said, his voice tinged with resignation. There was an underlying tone of disappointment, a father's hope that his children would have managed their affairs more wisely. "Although I expected better of you two... I was hoping you two would figure out whatever it is that is going on between you, and has been for a while." His words carried the weight of someone who had seen much, understood more.

Meerab felt her heart skip a beat at her father's acknowledgment. "You knew?" The words slipped out, her voice a mix of shock and disbelief. She had always prided herself on keeping her emotions under wraps, especially those concerning Murtasim.

"I make a living out of being observant, beta," her father responded, a trace of wry humor in his tone. "How was I not supposed to notice the way you two gravitate towards each other?" His keen eyes had picked up on the subtleties that they had thought were hidden.

The room fell into a thoughtful silence, with both Meerab and Murtasim caught off-guard by her father's perceptiveness.

"Sit," her father commanded gently, yet firmly. "Even though I am not yelling and making a scene, you two owe me an explanation."

Murtasim stepped forward, his posture embodying the quiet strength that Meerab had always admired. "I love Meerab," he declared, his voice clear and resolute. There was no hesitation, no faltering; it was a simple statement of fact, delivered with unwavering certainty.

Meerab's gaze flickered to Murtasim, noting the steadfast look in his eyes as he faced her father. It wasn't just a confession of love; it was an assertion, bold and unapologetic.

Her father, ever the inquisitor, probed further. "And you were quiet the whole time we looked for suitors because?"

"It's a long story," Murtasim replied, a hint of weariness in his voice, acknowledging the complexity of their journey.

Turning his attention to Meerab, her father's gaze was inquisitive yet gentle. "And you love him?" He asked, seeking confirmation from her.

She nodded, her affirmation silent but powerful. She could feel the tension release from Murtasim beside her, a subtle acknowledgment of the significance of her unspoken admission.

"And you agreed to marry someone else because...?" Her father's question hung in the air, demanding an explanation.

"It's a part of the long story," Meerab murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I only found out yesterday...that he loves me." Her admission laid bare the uncertainties and confusions that had plagued her.

Her father's eyes moved between them, reading the unspoken language of their interactions, trying to piece together the story that had unfolded in the shadows of their lives. His words surprised her, "Sit and talk then...Salma Bhabhi and Anwar aren't going to be on your side with this, not after everything, so someone should be."

Meerab's eyes welled up with tears as her father's words offered unexpected support. She had braced herself for rebuke, for disapproval, but instead found an ally in the man who had recently rekindled his role as her protector. It was a realization that struck deep, reminding her that beneath the layers of past mistakes and pain, there was a father who cared. This was the man who had recently risked everything for her, truly her father in more than just name despite how things had been in their relationship for the past few years.

She allowed Murtasim to guide her to the couch. As they sat side by side, Murtasim began to recount the events and decisions that had shaped their tumultuous journey, his words echoing the confessions of the previous night. This time, however, his tone was more factual, less charged with emotion, but no less sincere. As he spoke, Meerab felt a sense of calm wash over her, her mind processing and understanding the logic behind his actions.

Her father's face betrayed a hint of being overwhelmed as he listened to Murtasim's account. He turned to Meerab with a look of perplexity. "And you let him push you away? That's not like the Meerab I know," he remarked, his voice tinged with both surprise and a hint of the fatherly pride he had always had in her strength.

Meerab could only offer a shrug in response, her voice a whisper of vulnerability. "I thought he didn't love me...or at least that he didn't want to love me." Her admission was a raw exposure of the heartache she had carried, a wound that had only just begun to heal.

"I see...so the rishtas?" Her father probed further, his lawyer's mind seeking to understand every facet of the situation.

"A bit of wanting him to react and do something, and...not wanting to be alone," Meerab confessed, her voice barely audible. It was a truth she had scarcely admitted to herself, let alone to others.

Her father's expression softened, the hard lines of his lawyer's persona giving way to the more tender aspect of a father's concern. His voice broke the silence again, bearing the weight of resolution. "I'll talk to the Baigs," he declared, his tone steady but laden with the gravity of the situation.

"I already told Zaki," Meerab interjected, her voice barely above a whisper. "He was here last night too." The admission hung in the air, thick with unspoken implications.

Her father exhaled a heavy sigh, a gesture of understanding. He removed his glasses, rubbing his eyes as if to clear away the weariness of the unfolding drama. "Your mother is not going to agree to this, Murtasim...she has her heart set on Yusuf Ali's family," he said, a note of concern in his voice.

Murtasim's response was firm, unwavering. "I don't care, I love Meerab, and now that I can, I will marry her, and no one else." His declaration resonated in the room, a testament to his resolve.

Her father voiced a concern that lingered in the air. "Meerab won't be accepted into that house with open arms," he muttered, a reflection of how well he knew the dynamics within the Khan family. "Your mother hasn't had anything good to say about Meerab in years...and considering that you told me that she blames Meerab for what has unfolded in the village, I don't think that's going to change."

Murtasim's reply was equally steadfast. "We won't be living there...when...if Meerab agrees to marry me, we'll live on the outskirts of Karachi, so Meerab can work, and I can take care of the village and other things," he explained, his words so clear, as if he had spent a lot of time thinking about it.

Her father's gaze lingered on Murtasim, studying him intently, searching for sincerity. "You'll leave the Haveli for Meerab?" he asked, the question heavy with implications.

Murtasim nodded without hesitation. "We both know that Meerab won't be happy there, and I want nothing more than for her to be happy," he affirmed, his eyes never leaving her father's.

Meerab watched this exchange, her heart swelling relief. To hear Murtasim reiterate his commitment to her happiness in front of her father cemented the depth of his feelings.

Her father nodded, a gesture of acceptance and support. "All right, I'll try to do what I can to convince Salma Bhabi and Anwar, but even if they don't agree, you have my blessing," he conceded, offering them a lifeline amidst the storm.

Tears welled up in Meerab's eyes, a mix of gratitude and relief spilling over. "Thank you," she managed to say, her voice choked with emotion.

Her father shook his head gently, a soft smile gracing his lips. "You seem like you again, the fire is back in your eyes," he whispered, acknowledging the resurgence of the Meerab that had gotten lost somewhere along the way.

Meerab's smile was tentative but genuine, a sign of rekindled hope. Perhaps her father had been more observant than she had realized.

Turning back to Murtasim, her father offered a final piece of support. "I hope it works, whatever it is that you're thinking...but if you need help, let me know," he said.

Murtasim's nod was one of gratitude and respect, acknowledging the support that had seemed so improbable just moments ago.

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"No," Meerab whispered urgently, her fingers wrapping around Murtasim's hand, holding him back with a gentle but firm grip as he made to step off the porch and head towards his car after breakfast.

He turned towards her, an eyebrow arching inquisitively, silently questioning her sudden reluctance to let him go.

"Baba can see from his room as soon as you step out," she explained in a hushed tone, her eyes darting towards the side of the house that would be visible as soon as he stepped off the porch. At her feet, Murtasimbakri, their ever-present companion, wound around her legs.

Murtasim's response was a smile, but not just any smile.

It was a smirk, laced with a newfound mischief, a smile that was unfamiliar yet thrilling to Meerab.

His eyes sparkled with playful intent, in a way they never had before, sending her heart into a flutter. This smile, this expression, was uncharted territory, and it made her palms sweat with a mixture of nerves and excitement.

"And what do you not want him to see?" Murtasim teased, his voice a gentle probe. There was a lightness in his tone that Meerab hadn't heard before, a carefree joy that was infectious.

"N-nothing, go," she stammered, her attempt to sound casual betrayed by the quickened pace of her heartbeat. She gave him a gentle push, hoping he wouldn't notice the turmoil he'd stirred within her.

But Murtasim didn't budge. Instead, he stepped closer, diminishing the space between them. "No, I don't want to now," he declared, a playful defiance in his tone.

His proximity was doing things to her, things she couldn't quite articulate. Her heart raced, beating a frantic rhythm that echoed in her ears. Every instinct in her body screamed to step away from this unfamiliar chaos, but as she attempted to create distance, Murtasim followed. He moved in closer, his gaze locked onto hers, his hand, which she had initially grabbed to pull him back, now tightened around hers, refusing to let go.

In his eyes, there was an intensity that made her feel like he would devour her if given the chance. It was a look that stirred something deep within her.

"Aise kyun dekh rahe ho mujhe?" she managed to ask, her voice carrying a slight quiver as she backed away. But every step she took was matched by his advance.

He arched an eyebrow, closing the distance between them with a predatory ease. "Kyun? Dekh nahi sakta?" His words were a soft challenge, a whisper that hung heavily in the air between them.

Meerab felt her heart stutter in response, his proximity overwhelming her senses. "Nahi," she said, though it sounded more like a question than a statement. She was unaccustomed to this version of Murtasim – the Murtasim she knew was always quiet and aloof for the most part, unless they were arguing, but this... teasing side of him that seemed to relish the effect he was having on her was new.

He smiled, a smirk that pulled at one corner of his mouth, his eyes never leaving hers. It was then she realized - this was flirting. He had never done this before. All their previous close encounters were filled with arguments and intensity of a different kind – this was uncharted territory.

"Saaf-saaf kaho naa, ki iss tarah meri aankhon mein nahi dekha jaata," he whispered, stepping closer still.

Meerab tried to retreat, but Murtasimbakri, ever the unpredictable element, nudged her from behind, sending her stumbling into Murtasim's arms.

"M-Murtasim," she stuttered, her eyes wide with surprise as she crashed into him. The closeness overwhelmed her, filled her with a sense of vulnerability she hadn't known before. His proximity wasn't new – they had been this close during arguments, and during that kiss – a thought that made her eyes flicker to his lips, remembering their softness against hers.

"Meerab," he echoed her, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine. His lips moved temptingly as he spoke her name, and his hand, still entwined with hers, moved behind her, winding both of their arms back. He pulled her closer, her breath hitching at the sudden intimacy. Her world narrowed down to the space between them, to the feel of his body against hers, to the warmth radiating from his skin, and it drove her mad.

"Tum jaa rahe the..." Meerab's words trailed off, a reminder to herself as much as to him. Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions and sensations, struggling to process the rapid shift to this tender, electrifying intimacy. She had asked for time, but her heart seemed to be ignoring the request, drawn irresistibly to the man before her.

Murtasim hummed in response, a sound that vibrated through the small space between them. "Tumhe chod kar jaane ka mann nahi hai..." His voice was low and rich, filled with a sincerity that tugged at her heartstrings.

A smile involuntarily blossomed on her face, reflecting the warmth spreading through her at his words. Deep down, she knew she didn't want him to leave either, but her mind warred with the notion, wary of the risks they had already taken.

"Phir se rukne ke liye nahi kahoge?" He whispered, his breath caressing her skin, sending shivers down her spine.

She shook her head, a silent acknowledgement of their precarious situation. The fear of discovery, of scandal, still lingered in the back of her mind, her father had reacted well, but she wasn't sure he would continue to if they pushed his buttons in any way. The temptation to ask Murtasim to stay was almost overwhelming, but she feared the intensity of their emotions, the uncharted territory they were navigating.

He sighed, a sound of reluctant acceptance, and brought his other hand up to cup her face. His thumb traced the line of her cheek, a gentle, grounding touch that sent her heart racing. His warmth seemed to seep into her skin, a comforting, familiar sensation that made her feel both vulnerable and cherished. "I'll pick you up in a few hours?" He asked, his voice quiet, and his lips too close.

She could only nod, words failing her as her entire being seemed to focus on the points where they connected. His touch was a balm, soothing yet igniting a fire within her, a juxtaposition of feelings that left her both elated and utterly disarmed.

Murtasim leaned in, and the proximity sent a shockwave of excitement through Meerab, her breath hitching in anticipation as he got closer. "M-Murtasim." His name escaped her lips in a half-whisper, half-gasp, as her mind raced with the thought that he was about to kiss her. Her heart pounded in her chest, a rapid drumbeat echoing the intensity of the moment.

But instead of meeting her lips, he veered slightly, his lips brushing gently against her cheek. The soft touch was like a brush of fire, igniting a flurry of sensations that cascaded through her. His kiss, feather-light and fleeting, left her skin tingling, her mind reeling. It was an unexpected yet electrifying gesture, sending her thoughts into a whirlwind of disbelief and longing.

As he pulled away, Meerab found herself momentarily lost in the depth of his eyes, a myriad of emotions swirling within her. She watched, almost in a daze, as he took a step back, creating a distance that felt too vast all of a sudden. "I'll be back soon to pick you up," he said, his voice carrying the weight of a promise, his lips still pulled up in a smirk.

In a moment of panic and confusion, she blurted out, "I won't come!" The words tumbled out without thought, a desperate attempt to regain some control over the tumultuous emotions he had stirred within her.

He responded with a snicker, his amusement clear. "We'll see," he said, the confidence in his tone belying the playful challenge in his words. Then he turned and walked away, heading out the gate and down the road to his car with a casual grace that belied the intensity of the encounter.

As Meerab watched him disappear, her stomach continued to flip, a mixture of nerves and excitement churning within her. A spontaneous giggle bubbled up, a sound of joy and disbelief at the sudden turn their relationship had taken. A sense of peace, unfamiliar but welcome, washed over her. Somehow, she knew, despite the uncertainty and the chaos, things would be okay.

Her attention was abruptly caught by a bleat from Murtasimbakri, the mischievous goat that had unwittingly played a role in their saga. Falling to her knees, Meerab cupped the goat's face, a fond smile on her lips. "You missy are trouble," she said, her voice filled with affectionate reprimand.

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As Meerab stood in front of her closet, a sense of frustration washed over her. "I have nothing to wear!" she exclaimed, half-whining to Murtasimbakri, who was perched on the sofa, watching her with an almost human-like attentiveness. For the goat, this was an unusual spectacle, but for Meerab, it felt like a familiar scene, reminiscent of her flurry of emotions at the start of summer when she had turned her room upside down because she was off to see Murtasim...and planning to confess her feelings to him.

Dressing up had always been a personal affair for Meerab, a way to express herself. Yet, as time passed, she found herself inadvertently dressing for Murtasim as well. She enjoyed the way his gaze lingered on her a little longer when she wore certain colors or styles. There was something thrilling about capturing his attention, knowing she was the one drawing his admiring looks.

When the suitor visited, she had deliberately chosen outfits in colors she knew Murtasim favored on her. It had been a tactical move then, a subtle provocation to elicit some reaction from him. But now, the situation had evolved, tinged with a newfound sincerity.

"Red?" she asked Murtasimbakri, holding up a lace crimson red suit that she hadn't worn yet. Deep down, she knew that Murtasim's eyes often strayed the longest when she was adorned in red. Murtasimbakri responded with an enthusiastic bleat, which Meerab interpreted as a seal of approval.

Taking the outfit, Meerab dashed to the bathroom to prepare. Her preparation was meticulous, a ritual of self-care and anticipation. She spent extra time showering and then curling her hair into perfect waves, applying makeup that highlighted her natural beauty, before finally slipping into the crimson suit.

The suit itself was a masterpiece of craftsmanship. The deep crimson fabric was adorned with elaborate embroidery, the intricate patterns resembling vines elegantly climbing an ancient wall. The dupatta, trimmed with fine lace, draped over her shoulders gracefully, its rich color shimmering under the light, reminiscent of a cascading waterfall of rubies. The kurta, tailored to accentuate her form, complemented the overall ensemble, enhancing her elegance.

As she gazed at her reflection, a mix of giddiness and apprehension fluttered in her heart. The vibrant crimson of her outfit seemed to echo the liveliness returning to her eyes, which had lost their habitual sadness. Her lips, now more prone to curve into a gentle smile, added a softness to her demeanor.

However, as she gazed at her own image, a flicker of apprehension danced in her eyes. Was she letting go of her reservations too easily? Was she allowing herself to be swept away in the moment without fully addressing the past? These thoughts swirled in her mind, but they were gently pushed aside by the memory of Murtasim's firm grip on her hand in front of her father. She remembered the unwavering conviction in his voice when he declared his love for her, not just once but several times, with a clarity that left no room for doubt.

"Let yourself be happy," she whispered to her reflection, a soft but firm reminder to embrace the joy she was feeling. It was a decision to focus on the present, to allow herself the happiness she deserved.

Her contemplation was interrupted by the playful antics of Murtasimbakri, who was prancing around the room with an infectious energy. Meerab's attention shifted to choosing her footwear - a pair of elegant silver flat sandals that complemented her outfit perfectly. She also selected a red bag that seamlessly blended with her attire, adding a cohesive touch to her ensemble.

Glancing at her phone, Meerab noted the time – it was almost 1 pm. Murtasim would be arriving soon, as he had promised. She recalled how he had confidently told her father he would pick her up, not seeking permission but merely informing him, even though her father had nodded. "Chalo, he's likely almost here!" she said to Murtasimbakri.

Meerab descended the stairs gracefully, her movements fluid and light, almost as if she was floating. Murtasimbakri followed closely behind, her little hooves clicking rhythmically against the floor. Despite knowing that her meeting with Murtasim wasn't exactly a date, her stomach was aflutter with butterflies, a feeling reminiscent of the days when the mere thought of seeing him sent waves of anticipation through her.

She gathered the essentials for Murtasimbakri - a water bottle, a bowl, and some apples, packing them with a care that mirrored her own bubbling excitement. The excitement was not just about seeing Murtasim but also about the prospect of spending time together, even if it was under the guise of discussing important matters. They had to figure out how to handle the situation with Asma, he had promised to tell her more.

The sound of the doorbell sent a jolt through her, and she found herself rushing to the door with an eagerness she barely recognized in herself. Swinging the door open, she was met with Murtasim's gaze, which widened in apparent surprise and admiration as he took in her appearance.

His eyes traveled over her form, lingering just a moment longer than necessary, before finally settling on her face.

He exhaled deeply, as though her presence had momentarily taken his breath away. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice carrying a warmth and sincerity that sent a pleasant shiver down her spine. The compliment, so direct and heartfelt, was new to her ears. Murtasim had always had a way of making her feel seen with his lingering gazes, but hearing the words spoken aloud was somehow better.

In turn, Meerab couldn't help but notice how strikingly handsome Murtasim looked. The white kurta-pajama he wore was complemented by a beige waistcoat that seemed to accentuate his strong, broad shoulders and well-built arms. She suddenly had a newfound appreciation for waistcoats, it lent an air of sophistication to his attire, framing his physique in a way that drew her eyes to his form.

Before she could say anything, Murtasim's gaze shifted over Meerab's shoulder, she instinctively knew that her mother had arrived. The sound of her mother's footsteps resonated through the hallway, a familiar presence that had always been a part of her life. Meerab hadn't spoken to her mother about Murtasim, but it appeared her father had paved the way, for her mother's greeting was devoid of surprise. Instead, there was a curious glint in her eyes as they darted between Meerab and Murtasim, a silent acknowledgment of the changing dynamics.

"I'll have her back by 8," Murtasim announced confidently, addressing her mother with a respect that was palpable. Meerab watched as her mother nodded, her gaze lingering on Murtasim with an unreadable expression. In that moment, Murtasim effortlessly took the bag she had stocked with Murtasimbakri's things from Meerab's hand, a small act of care that didn't go unnoticed, a smile growing on her mother's face.

Murtasimbakri, ever the enthusiastic companion, darted past them, a blur of excitement and energy.

"Bye Mama," Meerab called out, a hint of newfound confidence in her voice as she followed Murtasim out.

Once outside, with the sound of the closing door marking their departure, a giggle bubbled up from within her. She glanced up at Murtasim.

"What?" Murtasim inquired, already looking at her, his attention completely hers.

"This is all a little unexpected," she admitted, her voice light with a hint of wonder. Her father's surprisingly calm reaction, her mother's acceptance, and Murtasim's bold request to take her out – it all felt surreal, like a dream she hadn't dared to imagine, almost like a movie. Yet here it was, unfolding before her eyes.

"A little," he chuckled in agreement, his laughter infectious. There was a lightness in his demeanor, a sense of ease that she had never seen in him, she found it incredibly endearing. He led her to his larger Toyota car rather than the black Mercedes they had occupied the previous night. Murtasimbakri, ever aware of her place, stood eagerly by the backdoor, jumping, her antics brought a smile to Meerab's face.

It also made Murtasim laugh, a pleasant light and carefree sound that echoed as he opened the backdoor for Murtasimbakri. With a practiced ease, he placed the goat and the bag inside, his movements gentle and considerate. Meerab watched, a smile tugging at her lips at the familiarity of the scene. He then turned to her, his actions shifting from playful to chivalrous as he opened the car door for her.

Meerab's breath hitched in surprise when her eyes fell upon the unexpected sight inside the car. A huge bouquet of red flowers, their petals a deep, vibrant hue, sat elegantly on the seat. Alongside it, a long red velvet box rested, its presence adding to the air of mystery. The flowers' scent wafted towards her, a splendid blend of sweet and spicy aromas, reminiscent of a blooming garden in the peak of summer. The bouquet was substantial, the weight of at least four dozen flowers evident as she picked them up to sniff, their fragrance enveloping her in a cloud of floral delight. No one had ever gotten her flowers before, not even a single rose, much less a whole bouquet.

"Perfect," Murtasim whispered, his gaze intently fixed on her, capturing every flicker of emotion that crossed her face.

He reached out to grab the red velvet box, motioning for her to sit in the car, Meerab complied, but not before her curiosity got the better of her. With her legs still dangling outside, she arched an eyebrow at him, her eyes flicking to the box in his hand. Was it a gift for her? Her heart skipped a beat at the thought.

"You weren't wearing your anklets," Murtasim remarked, an observation that made her heart flutter.

Her surprise must have been evident, for he continued, "the ones you wore at the village."

Meerab nodded, a hint of sadness touching her voice as she responded, "I lost them." She had woken up in the hospital without them, a loss that had pained her more than she cared to admit.

"I know," he said softly, his voice carrying a tenderness that made her heart swell. He reached into the pocket of his waistcoat and pulled out a single anklet. It was unmistakably hers, the same one she had cherished in the village.

"You had it all this time?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Murtasim nodded.

He had held onto her anklet, a simple trinket she had picked up in the village, not even crafted of silver. Yet, to Murtasim, it seemed to be a precious keepsake.

Meerab reached out, her fingers itching to touch her anklet, but Murtasim gently pulled it away. "This one is mine," he stated, a hint of possessiveness in his tone. "I couldn't find the other one, so I got you these. They're pretty similar," he explained as he opened the red velvet box.

Inside lay a pair of silver anklets, their design strikingly reminiscent of the one he held in his hand. A wave of emotions washed over Meerab, tears brimming in her eyes at the thoughtfulness behind his gesture. He had noticed her bare ankles, remembered the lost anklet, and now, he had replaced them with something even more precious.

"May I?" Murtasim's voice, soft yet laden with an unspoken intensity, broke through her reverie. He held one of the anklets up, seeking her permission.

Meerab simply nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. As she watched Murtasim kneel before her, a wave of anticipation washed over her. Her heart raced, each beat echoing the excitement that tingled through her veins. The scene unfolding before her eyes took her back to a moment in the past, a time when he had gently slipped shoes onto her feet. Now, here he was again, but it was different, charged with a connection that ran deeper than ever before.

Lifting the hem of her bottoms just enough, she revealed her ankles, her skin suddenly feeling more sensitive under his gaze.

Murtasim's fingers, warm and steady, gently grazed her skin as he reached for her ankle. The simple contact of his skin against hers sent an electric charge through her body, igniting a fire within her that she hadn't fully acknowledged until this moment. His touch was tender yet deliberate, each brush of his fingers sending ripples of warmth coursing through her.

As he clasped the anklets around her ankles, his fingers lingered just a moment longer than necessary, tracing the delicate curves of her bones. The touch was maddeningly light, yet filled with an intensity that left her breathless. Every nerve ending seemed to come alive under his touch, her skin burning where he had traced his fingers.

The anklets, once fastened, emitted a soft, melodic chime with each subtle movement of her leg, a sound that seemed to resonate with the heightened tension between them.

Murtasim's eyes remained fixed on her, filled with an emotion that was hard to define – a mix of adoration, desire, and something profoundly deeper. Meerab found herself lost in those eyes, the world around them fading into insignificance.

"Try them for me," he urged gently, breaking the silence.

She moved her legs, the anklets chiming melodically with her motion. A giggle escaped her lips, the sound light and carefree.

"I love them, thank you," Meerab expressed her gratitude, her voice sincere.

For a brief moment, Murtasim looked as if he would reach out to touch her face, his hand hovering in the air. But then, as if catching himself, he simply offered her a smile, one that conveyed more than words ever could. He helped her adjust herself in the car, ensuring her suit and dupatta were neatly tucked in before he closed the door. All the while, Murtasimbakri hopped into the backseat.

As the door clicked shut, Meerab was enveloped in a sense of contentment and anticipation. Her smile was irrepressible as she moved her feet, delighting in the sound of the new anklets and clutching the bouquet of flowers. She tried to compose herself when Murtasim got into the car, but her smile remained bright as she toyed with the flowers.

"I realized that I don't know what your favorite flowers are," Murtasim admitted as he started the car.

"I don't think I have one," Meerab replied, turning to find him watching her intently.

"We'll find out then," he said, nodding.

Meerab chuckled, "Why? Are you going to buy me a flower shop?"

"If you want one," he offered, his smile matching hers.

"Drive," she said, feeling overwhelmed by the moment, somehow, she felt like he would if she asked him to.

Murtasim extended his hand to her. Despite her fluttering stomach, Meerab placed her hand in his. Their hands remained intertwined over the gear shift as he navigated the car.

"Why'd you say it like that?" Meerab asked after a while, her voice tinged with curiosity.

He hummed, signaling for her to elaborate.

"When you said you didn't know what my favorite flowers are...like it was the exception," she elaborated, her gaze fixed on him.

"I know a lot about you," Murtasim replied as he drove, his eyes focused on the road ahead.

"Like?" she prompted, genuinely intrigued, he had never asked her what she liked or tried to find out about her to her knowledge.

Murtasim smiled, "Well, for starters, your favorite color is yellow, like the sun, even though you wear red more often." His observation made Meerab blush, if only he knew that the reason she wore red more was because of him.

He continued, "You prefer chai when you're sad or tired, but you opt for coffee loaded with cream and sugar when you're happy."

Did she? She pondered his words, realizing there might be truth to it, she hadn't had creamy and sugary coffee in a long time.

"And you have a peculiar craving for pizza if you haven't had it for a few days. You always order it with mushrooms, chicken, peppers, and extra cheese. But never olives," he added. Meerab wondered if she had ordered pizza in front of him that often.

"Your favorite dessert seems to be a tie between shahi tukda and cake," he noted, "but chocolate cake wins."

Murtasim glanced at her briefly, "You dance more and hum when you eat those. It's hard to miss." He chuckled.

"What else?" She whispered, needing to know more.

Murtasim's voice softened as he continued. "You always tie your hair up when you're concentrating on something important, and you have this little frown that appears on your forehead. It's quite adorable." He chuckled lightly, squeezing her hand.

"You laugh differently when you're genuinely happy, it's more free and unguarded."

Murtasim's voice grew softer, "you have this habit of biting your lower lip when you're nervous or deep in thought," he said, his voice fond. "And when you find something truly funny, your nose scrunches up slightly – it's incredibly endearing."

"When you disagree with something but choose not to argue, you have this particular way of pursing your lips and nodding, as if to say 'I'll let this go, for now.'"

"You prefer sitting with your legs tucked under you, but only if you're comfortable where you are."

He paused, a smile playing on his lips. "You're also particular about the books you read. You prefer physical books over e-books and always use a ribbon as a bookmark, never folding the page corners." Murtasim continued, his voice filled with warmth and affection. "You always read the last page of a new book first, it seems to help you decide if it's worth the journey."

"You love rainy days, not for the rain itself – because you hate being cold - but for the sound it makes, especially on the roof, you find where the sound is the loudest and curl up to read. It seems to bring you peace," he continued, his gaze momentarily flickering over to her.

"When you're truly excited, your hands gesture more when you talk. It's as if your joy can't be contained," he said, his voice tender.

"And when you're content, really content, you have this habit of swaying slightly where you stand, as if there's music only you can hear."

Tears filled Meerab's eyes as she listened, realizing how closely he had been watching her all this time. All the while, she thought he didn't want to love someone like her.

Meerab gazed at Murtasim, unable to look away. "How did you find all of that out without even giving me a hint?" she asked, her voice tinged with wonder. She had always felt he saw right through her, but his awareness of even her smallest habits was astonishing.

"I don't know, I thought I made it too obvious...but maybe I only looked when I knew you were looking away," Murtasim muttered, almost to himself.

She understood that feeling all too well, as she often did the same. "Murtasim," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

He hummed in response, encouraging her to continue.

"Thank you," she said, the words carrying the weight of her gratitude and affection.

Murtasim glanced over at her, a hint of confusion in his expression.

"For loving me," she clarified, her whisper conveying her heartfelt appreciation.

His smile was gentle and sincere. "I told you, you're so easy to love, Meerab." His words were simple, yet they resonated deeply within her, filling her with a warmth that only his love could bring.

Her mind wandered back to their conversation about her habit of reading the last page of a book first. In a soft whisper, she asked Murtasim, "What do you think is on the last page of our book?"

He sighed, a sound filled with hope and longing. "The two of us, old and grey, sitting in a garden filled with your favorite flowers, surrounded by our family, including our great-grandkids," he replied, his voice imbued with a hopeful vision of their future together.

She could almost picture it.

Then, with a gentle inquisitiveness, he asked, "Is that worth the journey then?"

Her response was a heartfelt whisper, "It is." The simplicity of her words carried the weight of her commitment and hope for their shared future.

Before she could say more, the air was suddenly filled with an unexpected sound. From the backseat came a loud bleat, quickly followed by a chorus of bleats, each one more enthusiastic than the last. It was Murtasimbakri seemingly crying out in happiness.

Caught off guard by the absurdity and timing of Murtasimbakri's outburst, Meerab and Murtasim couldn't help but glance at each other. Their eyes met, and in that instant, a spark of shared amusement flickered between them. The seriousness of their conversation dissolved into laughter, a joyful, unbridled laughter that filled the car. 

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A/N: Tadaaaaa! So what do we think? What was your favourite part? In the next chapter, we finally learn what Shahmeer told Murtasim, what do you think it's going to be? Hehehe.