I found this picture online and wrote this os🫠 kinda lame

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Murtasim Khan had always been a man of pride and strength, but his world shattered the day his wife, Meerab, left their home after a heated argument. The fight had started over something trivial, but the emotions involved were anything but. Murtasim's unyielding nature and Meerab's fiery spirit had clashed violently, leading her to walk out of the door and out of his life. For a year, he spiraled into madness, scouring every corner of the city, questioning friends and family, but she was nowhere to be found. The anguish of her absence gnawed at him daily, turning his once confident demeanor into one of desperation and sorrow.

Then, one fateful night, as he lay awake in the dark, his phone rang. It was Meerab. Her voice was trembling, laced with fear and pain. "Murtasim," she cried, "I'm in labor. I need you. I'm scared." The words hit him like a thunderbolt. He had found her, but the news was more shocking than he could have imagined—she was pregnant, and she had been carrying their child all this time without his knowledge.

His heart raced as he drove to the hospital, thoughts of her filled with fear and panic. What had she been through? Why hadn't she told him? But above all, the looming dread of losing her now that he had found her again consumed him.

When he arrived, he found her in the throes of labor, her face contorted with pain and anxiety. She reached out to him, her fingers clutching his with surprising strength. "Murtasim, I don't want to die. I'm scared I'll die like my mother did," she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Murtasim's heart ached at her words. He knew the story of her mother's tragic death during childbirth, a fear that had haunted Meerab all her life. "You won't die, Meerab," he said, his voice cracking. "I won't let anything happen to you. I promise. Tum himmat waali ho, kuch nahi hoga tumhe".

As the contractions grew stronger, she gripped his hand tighter. "If something happens to me, promise me you won't marry Haya. I'm scared she'll harm our child," she pleaded, her eyes wide with terror.

Murtasim's chest tightened at the mention of Haya. He had known of her manipulative ways and her desire to come between him and Meerab, but he had never imagined it would come to this. "I promise, Meerab. I swear I won't marry Haya. Our child will be safe," he vowed, his voice filled with conviction.

The medical staff wheeled her into the delivery room, and Murtasim was left standing in the hallway, feeling more helpless than ever before. He dropped to his knees, tears streaming down his face, and fell into sajdah, praying fervently for Meerab's safety and the health of their child. His thoughts raced uncontrollably—what if something went wrong? What if he lost her now, after finding her again? The weight of his regrets bore down on him like a ton of bricks.

He thought of the times he had pushed her away, the harsh words he had spoken, and the nights he had spent in a blind rage after she left. He hated himself for every moment he had taken her for granted, for not realizing sooner how much he truly loved her. His hands shook with anxiety, and the tears continued to flow as he begged for mercy, for another chance to make things right.

Minutes felt like hours as he waited outside the delivery room, his mind a whirlwind of fear and guilt. He had imagined their reunion countless times, but never like this. The thought of losing her or their child was unbearable. He knew he couldn't handle it if something happened to them. He had found her after such a long and painful search; the idea of losing her now was more than he could bear.

As he sat there, every second seemed to stretch into an eternity. He recalled the first time he had seen Meerab as his wife, the way her eyes sparkled with defiance in that red joda. How could he have let her slip away?

The self-hate and anger bubbled within him, threatening to overwhelm him. He had been a fool, blinded by pride and stubbornness. He had driven away the one person who meant everything to him, and now he was on the brink of losing her forever. He clenched his fists, the knuckles turning white, as he tried to steady his racing thoughts.

Finally, the door to the delivery room opened, and a nurse stepped out, her face calm but serious. Murtasim jumped to his feet, his heart in his throat. "How is she? How is my wife?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

The nurse gave him a reassuring smile. "She’s strong. She's fighting through it. The baby is almost here. Just a little more time."

Murtasim nodded, swallowing hard. The wait continued, each minute feeling like an eternity. He resumed his silent prayers, his thoughts a chaotic mix of hope and fear. He couldn’t lose her—not now, not ever. He realized how deeply he loved her, how empty his life had been without her.

Hours later, the nurse emerged again, this time with a look of relief. "Congratulations, Mr. Khan. You have a healthy baby girl. And your wife is safe. She did wonderfully."

Murtasim felt his legs give way as he sank to the floor, tears of joy and relief streaming down his face. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. He was ushered into the room, where he saw Meerab, exhausted but alive, holding their tiny, wailing daughter.

He approached her cautiously, his heart swelling with love and gratitude. Meerab looked up at him, her eyes filled with tears. "We have a daughter," she said softly.

He took her hand and kissed it tenderly. "Can I?"

As Murtasim held their newborn daughter in his arms, the weight of the past year's anguish seemed to lift. His tears flowed freely, mingling with the relief and overwhelming love he felt for his wife and child. Meerab watched him, her own emotions a tempest of gratitude, guilt, and newfound hope.

The sight of Murtasim, tears streaking his face as he gazed lovingly at their daughter, tugged at her heartstrings. She saw the depth of his love, the sincerity of his emotions, and it shattered the walls she had built around herself.

"I don't deserve you," Murtasim whispered, his voice breaking as he looked at Meerab. His vulnerability was raw and unguarded, a stark contrast to the proud and strong man he had always been. She reached for her hand, and he took it, her grip gentle but firm.

"It's okay, Murtasim," she replied softly, her eyes reflecting the pain and regret they both felt. She squeezed his hand, wanting to reassure him that they were still a team, still bound by their love despite everything.

She remembered the days of her pregnancy, the fear and loneliness she had felt, and how she had longed for his presence. She had been so afraid of his feelings for Haya, so consumed by the thought that he might have moved on, that she had kept their child a secret. But now, seeing him with their daughter, she realized how wrong she had been.

Murtasim sat beside her, carefully cradling their daughter, and began to pray. His voice was soft but steady, filled with reverence and hope. He recited the Azan, the call to prayer, into their baby's tiny ear, his words a solemn promise of faith and protection.

As he held their daughter close, Meerab saw the reflection of his soul in his eyes—those eyes that were now mirrored in their child's innocent gaze.

The baby had Murtasim's eyes, deep and expressive, and the gentle smile that had always been a hallmark of Meerab's own face. She marveled at the blend of their features in this tiny being.

Meerab's thoughts drifted to her own vulnerabilities. She had always prided herself on her independence, her strength, but in this moment, she felt fragile. The fear of dying like her mother had been a shadow over her throughout her pregnancy, but Murtasim's presence now was a balm to her fears. She realized that she needed him, not just as a father to their child, but as her partner.

Their daughter cooed softly in his arms, and he smiled down at her, a look of pure adoration on his face. "She's perfect, just like her mother," he whispered.

"Our daughter has your eyes," she said, her voice choked with emotion. "And your smile," Murtasim added, looking at Meerab with a tender expression.

"Naam kya socha hai?"

Murtasim looked at her smile, and then Meerab's, "Meesam"

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Meesam means smiling and happy.