A/N: Welcome to the last chapter of Meri Musibat. It's been a ride -- when I started this story I never thought so many people would love it as much as y'all have. I remember waking up to hundreds and sometimes even over a thousand notifications after dropping a chapter - which was wild. I have loved reading all your theories, comments, reactions, and jokes throughout, and have been super touched by the response. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for all the love, hope you enjoy the last chapter!

(P.S. Thank you to Nikki (vxrglow) and Mayi (ginrosehar) for helping make Murtasim's luscious beard white/grey for the header!)

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Meerab sat amidst the vibrant blooms of a garden at its peak.

Roses in deep reds, vibrant yellows, and delicate pinks swayed in the breeze, while lush hydrangeas in whites and purples added depth to the landscape.

The garden hummed with the sounds of laughter and joy, blending harmoniously with the rustling leaves and the sweet, pervasive fragrance of the flowers. Guests of all ages mingled around her, from the tender youth of babies cradled in their mothers' arms to the seasoned smiles of those in their seventies and eighties.

Along with humans, there were goats grazing about – they were such a part of their life that neighbours had dubbed their house the goat house while Murtasimbakri and her offspring roamed the gardens. The goats that roamed the garden then were all descendants of Murtasimbakri, who had lived a long life, leaving behind generations of offspring. Many of the goats grazing, playfully pursued by children, bore a striking resemblance to the first gift Murtasim had ever given Meerab.

Meerab's eyes lit up as she heard the familiar footsteps approaching. Turning, her smile deepened upon seeing her husband. Despite the years, in her eyes, Murtasim retained an unrivaled handsomeness, a timeless charm that had first captured her heart decades ago. Despite the silver that now streaked his hair, his piercing gaze held the same warmth and depth it always had, while the subtle black streaks in his beard provided a reminder of the youthful vigor that had drawn Meerab to him all those years ago. The lines on his face spoke of the many moments they had shared, across their long life together and yet, to Meerab, he still looked like the man she had married all those years ago, her Murtasim. His smile, tender and loving, was still enough to light up her world, and the sight of him walking towards her still made her heart flutter like it had so long ago.

As Murtasim reached her, he gently draped a shawl over her shoulders, his hands careful and tender as he arranged the fabric to shield her from the cool breeze. Meerab's body, aged yet graceful, felt the chill more swiftly these days, and his thoughtfulness warmed her as much as the shawl.

She watched his face as he fussed over her, ensuring every fold of the shawl was in place, and her heart swelled with affection. "This one is yours," she said, her voice soft with affection, acknowledging the shawl he had chosen for her.

"They all look better on you anyways," Murtasim replied with a playful grin.

He leaned in to place a gentle kiss on her forehead, a happy sigh left her lips.

Settling beside her once again, he took her hand in his, their fingers intertwining naturally.

"Happy 80th Birthday, Ammi," Meesam said as she approached them.

Meerab hugged Meesam warmly, pressing a kiss to her cheek that stirred memories of a lifetime filled with love and laughter.

"Thank you, Mee-Mee," Meerab responded, her voice thick with emotion, her heart not ready to let go of the nickname they had given her when she was a toddler, even though she was now over 50 herself.

Meerab reached out to gently pat her daughter's cheek.

Looking at Meesam felt like gazing through a window to the past—a reflection of her younger self. Over the years, as Meerab aged, Meesam had grown to embody the image Meerab once saw in her own mirror, becoming more like her mother with each passing day.

Beside her, Murtasim shifted, his movements careful and considerate as he adjusted the shawl draped over Meerab's shoulders again. The fabric had slipped when Meesam had hugged her.

Meerab smiled softly, patting his hand in silent gratitude.

Meesam's smile was smitten as she looked between them, her eyes alight with the love of a daughter for her parents. "I'll go get everyone together so we can bring out the cake," she announced.

Meerab nodded, watching as Meesam turned to orchestrate the gathering, her figure receding into the crowd.

"I still don't like him," Murtasim grumbled under his breath as Meesam approached her husband, Aahil.

He was a lawyer by profession and the two had met through an NGO Meerab herself had established to help children escaping domestic violence. Meerab had always liked the man, and she suspected Murtasim did too, but refused to admit it.

Despite the decades, Murtasim's protective instincts had not waned. When Aahil had first walked into Meesam's life, Murtasim had been absolutely unbearable – he, along with Areeb, had practically shadowed Aahil trying to find a flaw. Zaki had been running background checks, and Shahmeer had used his political ties to try to get him ousted from the country and Meesam's life on Murtasim's request.

If Meerab hadn't stepped in, she knew Aahil would have been in another country, living a very different life.

The four of them had calmed down some – now, their 'intimidation' tactics had toned down to bringing any new family suitors on slightly menacing hunting trips during their first meeting. The men would swagger about, rifles slung over their shoulders, glaring at the suitor. She was sure they were the ones that got some wild animal agitated and set loose, letting it get close enough to the suitor for him to fear for his life, only to have them shoot a rifle almost at them, scaring the animal away.

"It's been 30 years, Murtasim," Meerab laughed softly, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Still," he persisted stubbornly.

"They have three children," Meerab reminded him gently, her laughter echoing in the warm air.

"That's exactly why, I still don't like his intentions." He muttered, almost too low for her to hear, "Farhan's too." He added, mentioning Maira's husband – he had broken his foot on the hunting trip back in the day and Murtasim had looked much too satisfied when they had returned.

Meerab's laughter rang out again, "you've got to let it go, jaan." She told him.

He just sighed.

Meerab glanced around the garden, taking in the sight of their friends and family. Areeb and Shahmeer, too, occasionally gave Aahil wary looks, especially when he hovered too close to Meesam.

It seemed some things never changed.

Areeb and his wife Rumi sat on a bench by the shimmering pool, their conversations mingling with those of Shibra and Shahmeer, and Zaki and Maryam. Nearby, Khirad chatted animatedly with her husband, Rehan, whom she had met later in life. Their stories intertwined with the blooming flowers around them—stories of love, resilience, and new beginnings.

Maira and Maahir, now grown with families of their own, moved gracefully among the guests. They greeted everyone, sharing smiles and laughter, the bond between them evident as they occasionally exchanged looks of sibling camaraderie.

Meesam and Aahil were a picture of familial bliss as they carried their twin grandchildren, their faces lit up with the joy of being grandparents. Zoya, Meesam and Aahil's oldest, had recently given birth to the twins, Murtasim still grumbled that his granddaughter was much too young for children. Her husband, Asad, had too been scared shitless when they all took him out hunting during their first meeting, he had jumped at the slightest sounds for months following that hunting trip.

As Meerab turned to Murtasim, his hand gave hers a reassuring squeeze.

"A lot of people love you," he said, the sounds of laughter and conversation floating towards them.

She smiled at him, her heart full, she felt loved.

The garden was teeming with life: their children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, each carrying a piece of their legacy. Friends from long ago, whose children and even grandchildren had become like family. Some had indeed become family, Maira had married Farhan, Shahmeer and Shibra's son, bridging friendships into kinships – their daughter had finally been named Shahmeera, freeing Meesam from the name she detested.

"I love you the most from anyone here though," Murtasim declared, his eyes crinkling with that familiar warmth.

Laughter bubbled up from Meerab's throat, the sound mingling with the rustle of leaves. "Always so cheesy," she teased, the lines of age around her eyes deepening with her smile yet failing to mask the youthfulness that sparked within her gaze whenever she looked at him.

"Someone has to keep the romance alive," he retorted playfully, his own eyes shimmering with a mischievous light that had not dimmed with the years, he too had laugh lines around his mouth, buried under his now mostly-white-haired beard.

Her expression must have shifted to one of mock sternness because Murtasim's laughter filled the air, rich and hearty. "Meerabilli," he chuckled, the old nickname dancing on his lips.

"You're never going to let that go, are you?" Meerab asked, though the warmth in her voice made it clear she never really wanted him to.

Sher and Meerabilli, the cherished stuffed animals from their first date, had survived the decades. Over 58 years later, the beloved stuffed animals bore the marks of a well-loved life, patched with vibrant fabrics and stitched together in a delightful array of mismatched threads. As they were handed down from them to their children and then to grandchildren, each repair added more character, turning them into treasured family heirlooms. Their colorful patches told stories of playtime adventures and nighttime comforts, embodying the love and laughter of generations.

Murtasim shook his head. "No, you're always going to be Meerabilli," he replied simply, lifting her hand to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it as she smiled at him.

Seconds later, Meesam, Maahir, and Maira approached with a cake, the scene felt timeless, echoing the joy of countless birthdays past.

Grandkids and great-grandkids, adults and little ones alike, crowded around, their voices melding into a boisterous rendition of "Happy Birthday." They handed Meerab cards and gifts, each embrace and giggle etching deeper lines of joy on her face.

"Make a wish, Ammi," Maira urged, her voice thick with emotion as she held the cake before Meerab.

Laughing, Meerab looked over the flickering candles. "I don't know what to wish for anymore, it feels like all my wishes have come true," she said, her voice soft yet carrying through the murmurs of her family.

Ayaan, Maahir's young son, piped up with a suggestion, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Wish for Dadaji to be your husband in the next life too!"

The crowd cheered, and laughter rippled through the gathering.

"Maybe she wants a break!" Shahmeer teased.

"I could really use one," Areeb sighed.

Murtasim feigned a pout. "You're not tired of me already, are you?" he whispered to her.

Turning to him, Meerab's smile was tender. But she shrugged, "I don't know," she teased.

She giggled at the sigh he let out before muttering something under his breath, but she knew that he knew she was not tired of him.

With that, she took a deep breath and blew out the candles, her heart making a silent wish for Murtasim in every life, in every world, in every universe. The cheers broke out anew, joy echoed in the happy shouts that filled the garden.

As dinner progressed, the backyard echoed with laughter and lively conversations, reminiscent of countless gatherings around the old table that had borne witness to the family's celebrations through the years. Just as the dessert plates were being cleared, Maahir stood, drawing the crowd's attention with a demeanor as commanding as his father's had always been.

"If I could have your attention just for a moment," Maahir began, his voice steady and clear, Maahir was as much like Murtasim as Meesam was like her, Maira was the one that was a perfect mix of the two of them.

A hush fell over the gathering as everyone turned towards him.

"Today, as we gather in this beautiful garden that Abbu planted for my Ammi, to celebrate the remarkable milestone of her 80th birthday—80 whole years, and she still looks like the most beautiful woman in the world," he grinned, his eyes twinkling with admiration.

Murtasim, ever the cheerleader of his son's praises – something he himself had taught him - clapped his hands loudly, prompting a playful whack from Meerab.

Laughter bubbled up among the guests.

"Murtasim once glared at me because I called you pretty, and said pretty was an insult," Zaki teased Meerab, causing everyone to snicker.

"He walked into a wall staring at you more than once," Areeb added, causing Meerab to chuckle.

"He tailed me for hours and threatened my life thinking I wanted to marry you," Shahmeer added, never the one to be left out.

"Shut up, Maahir was saying something cute!" Khirad said, shushing them all.

"Thank you, Khala. As I was saying, Ammi has had a profound impact on all of us—her children, her grandchildren, her great-grandchildren, her friends. She has touched all of us with her kindness and strength," Maahir continued, his voice rich with emotion as everyone nodded.

He turned to Meerab then, "Ammi, you have always been the heart of our family."

Meerab felt tears well up in her eyes, her heart swelling with pride and love as she listened to her son's heartfelt words.

"You, and Abbu, have filled our lives with so much love, as far back as I can remember, I've felt loved, and I've seen love. You two made it so hard for us when it came to finding love," he sighed, his statement drawing a round of laughter from the assembly. "You two set an almost impossible standard for us to follow. Meesam, Maira, and I often joked that you've spoiled us for real life, setting the bar that high. I can't even count the times we compared others to the bond you both share and they fell short—"

"Meesam didn't try hard enough," Murtasim chimed in, shooting Aahil a glare.

"Baba!" Meesam exclaimed, feigning exasperation yet unable to hide the affection in her voice.

"Mee-Mee!" Murtasim whined back, his tone teasing, eliciting a roll of the eyes from Meesam but also a warm, affectionate smile.

Maira cleared her throat, "if you two are done..." she arched her eyebrow.

Murtasim nodded sheepishly.

Maahir continued, "As I was saying, your love story has been our fairy tale. And you, Ammi, have always been the main character of that story, you have been our anchor," Maahir's voice was steady, filled with emotion as he spoke directly to Meerab, but Meerab could see Maira mouthing the words. Meerab held back laughter, knowing that Maira had likely written and re-written the speech a million times for her brother.

"You are the only one who can make Meesam pause and reconsider when her temper flares. You are the only one who can make Maira sit down and actually listen with her full attention. And for me, you've always been the voice of reason, the calm in any storm. And I can't even begin to explain what you are for Abbu – I think you're the reason he wakes up every day, the reason he smiles, the reason he exists."

As Maahir spoke, Meerab turned to Murtasim, squeezing his hand gently. His eyes were twinkling with love, a smile spreading across his face that echoed the years of joy they had shared together.

"Today, as we celebrate you, I want to thank you for everything. For teaching us how to be brave, the value of kindness, the importance of patience, and the strength that lies in compassion—the same things you'll teach all of our great-grandchildren as well," Maahir continued, his voice amplifying around the garden. "You have shown us that the true foundation of any family is love and understanding. So, here's to you, Ammi, to your 80 years of grace and wisdom. May we continue to learn from you, may we have the strength to live up to the example you and Abbu have set. To Ammi—happy birthday, and thank you for everything. We love you more than words can express."

As applause, cheers, and whistles broke out from everyone around, Meerab found herself overwhelmed with emotion. She raised a trembling hand to her lips, blowing a kiss towards Maahir, mouthing a heartfelt "thank you," before doing the same for Maira who blushed, realizing she had been caught yet again.

Tears streamed down Meerab's face, each one reflecting the love and appreciation of the life she had lived and the family she cherished deeply.

As the laughter and merriment continued around them, Meerab felt a familiar touch—Murtasim reaching over to wipe her tears away with the same tenderness that had comforted her throughout their years together.

"I still hate it when you cry," he sighed, a soft warmth in his voice.

"Happy tears, most of them have been," she whispered back, her voice low but filled with emotion. "Thank you."

He shook his head gently, his eyes meeting hers with a depth of feeling only decades of love could accumulate. "No, thank you," he replied.

Meerab sighed, her gaze drifting across the vibrant garden, the laughter of their family blending with the rustle of leaves and distant chatter. "You were right," she whispered.

"I usually am, but about what this time?" he teased.

She rolled her eyes affectionately, giving his arm a gentle whack, provoking a laugh from him before he leaned in to press a kiss to her temple.

"About the last page of our book," she whispered, her voice thick with nostalgia.

He hummed in response, the sound vibrating through the air between them. "The two of us, old and grey, sitting in a garden filled with your favorite flowers, surrounded by our great-grandkids," he repeated the vision he had described so many years ago, a vision that had come to fruition so perfectly.

"I was 22 when you said that, and I am 80 now," she smiled, marveling at the journey they had traveled together.

"Has it been worth the journey then?" he asked, echoing the words he had used decades before to propose a lifetime together.

She grinned, feeling the years melt away, leaving only the essence of their love. "It has," she whispered back, her heart swelling with the certainty of her words.

He smiled, his eyes crinkling around the edges.

His hands cupped her face gently, the roughness of his skin a testament to the years of work and love he had put into their life together.

His thumb rubbed her cheek tenderly.

"I love you, Murtasim," she breathed out, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I love you, meri musibat," he teased back as he placed a gentle kiss on her nose.

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A/N: Sooooooo, what do you think? Is everyone else crying with me?! I would love to hear your thoughts about the chapter, the epilogue, or anything. Thank you for being a part of this journey with me!