A Letter Never Sent!

        I'm writing everything that I've ever wanted to say to you, but I couldn't, knowing that everyone will read this except you—the one for whom I'm pouring my heart out on this paper today. 

Meeting you for the first time, I realized you were the one I've always been waiting for! The one who was the answer to all those questions—what I'm looking for in a partner? Because you were everything I've ever been looking for! 

The one for whom I've been rejecting everyone, for whom I've never settled with anyone else, for whom I've never been in a relationship. 

The one who made me realize what love actually is, how it feels to fall in love. The one whose one look is enough. And just by a glance at you, my eyes shine, my lips curl into a smile, my soul calms, my mind finds its peace, my heart finds its home, and my worries fade away... 

           Calling your name unintentionally whenever I'm worried somehow calms my mind quickly. And whenever I feel anxious and you're not around, I search for your warmth—to be in your arms, to place my hands on your chest, to have your arms around my waist, to feel secure, to calm my worries, to ease my mind, and to be able to relax. 

I find you in every beautiful thing. Just by looking at you, I get lost in my own fantasy world, a world where just the two of us exist, a world where nothing matters but the two of us, a world where you know the situation of my heart, a world where I could be in your arms, a world where I don't have to live without you. 

I close my eyes to sleep, and you're already in my bed, your arms wrapped around my waist, my hands on your chest, my forehead resting against your chin, and just like that, I drift off to sleep every night, feeling safe in your arms. Even though I know you're not around me. 

        I know you love me the most. I know you want to give me everything I've ever wanted. I know you want to provide me with the life I've ever dreamed of. I know you'd do anything to bring a smile to my face. But I guess fate had other plans. 

Despite the fact that my heart is filled with love for you, I didn't ask for you in my prayers. Perhaps I couldn't... 

        You know the saddest part—that you don't even know how I feel about you. And I don't have the courage to confess my feelings to you, to tell you that it's not one-sided, it was never one-sided. I loved you too. And I've never stopped loving you. I love you so so so much.

I wish you could read my soul and feel the depth of what I actually felt for you. You don't know how much I adore you. And maybe you'll never know. I was, I am, and I'll always be in love with you. They say first love is always incomplete, and I think they're right.

Part-II

جانتی ہوں کہ بہت دل دُکھا چکی ہوں تمہارا... لیکن ایک دفعہ مجھے موقع تو دو بات کرنے کا... اشارہ تو دو کہ سامنے تم ہی ہو... کہ میں ایک آخری دفعہ سب سچ کہہ سکوں... حقیقت کیا ہے آگاہ کر سکوں... کہ تمہیں جو حقیقت لگتی ہے وہ دراصل حقیقت ہے ہی نہیں... سچ کیا ہے میں کہہ سکوں... اتنے سالوں سے جو اس دل میں دفن کر پھر رہی ہوں... وہ بتا سکوں... جھوٹ کہتی رہی ہوں کہ تم پہلی محبت نہیں ہو... صرف اس لیے کہ بددل ہو تم...

مجھے لگتا تھا کچھ بھی کہوں... کچھ بھی کروں... تم نہیں چھوڑو گے.... غلط تھی میں... بھول گئی تھی کہ تم بھی دل رکھتے ہو... اتنےذ سالوں سے خود کو روک کر بیٹھی تھی کہ نہیں کوئی فائدہ نہیں سچ بتانے کا... بہت دیر ہو چکی ہے... حالات پہلے سے نہیں رہے... وقت بدل چکا ہے... جو کچھ دل میں ہے وہ دل ہی میں رہ جانا چاہیے... مگر اب روک نہیں پائی... سب کے روکنے کے باوجود تمہیں آواز دے بیٹھی... اندازہ تھا مجھے کہ جواب نہیں دو گے تم... پلٹ کر واپس آ جائے گی آواز میری... مگر پھر بھی ایک آخری بار... دیکھنا چاہ رہی تھی کہ شاید میں دل کا حال بیان کر سکوں... تم سے مل سکوں... تمہیں بتا سکوں کہ تم سے جُڑی ہر چیز موجود ہے اب تک میرے پاس...

اب جب اجازت تم نے دے ہی دی تو میں کچھ کہ ہی نہ سکی.. حالِ دل تو بیان ہی نہ کر پائی... ڈھنگ سے محبت کا اعتراف تک نہ کر پائی... 

اب تم جو یہ کہتے ہو کہ اس سفر میں میں اکیلی تھی... کچھ خوف خُدا کا کھاؤ تم... نہ میرا دل دکھاؤ تم... میں یہ خواب جو اکیلے دیکھتی تھی... سہانے خواب سجاتی تھی... جو اولاد تم سے چاہتی تھی... جو ساتھ تم سے چاہتی تھی.... جو آشیانہ اپنا سوچتی تھی۔۔۔ وہ سب تو کسی اور کو دے بیٹھے تم.. اب یہ خواب جو میں دیکھتی تھی... کہاں لے کر جاؤں میں ان کو... کیا کروں میں ان کا۔۔۔ جب وہ ۔میرے ہی نہ رہے...

جانتے ہو میرا دل کیا چاہتا ہے اس وقت.... کہ ایک دفعہ... صرف ایک دفعہ تم سے سوال کر سکوں... جو آنسو روک کر بیٹھی ہوں وہ بہنے دوں... اور پھر تمہارا گریبان پکڑ کر پوچھوں.... کہ کیسے کر سکتے ہو تم یہ میرے ساتھ؟ کیسے میرے خواب کسی اور کو دے سکتے ہو؟ کیسے بھول سکتے ہو؟ کیسے چھوڑ سکتے ہو؟ کیسے آگے بڑھ چکے ہو؟

مگر کیسے؟ کیسے کہوں؟ کیسے سوال کروں؟ کھو چکی ہوں... سب کھو چکی... کھو بیٹھی ہوں اپنا حق تم پر... حتی کہ تمہیں ہی کھو بیٹھی!

The Unspoken Tension!

        A notification popped up on my phone — a text from him announcing his arrival. I ignored the message and walked toward outside.

As I stepped out of the salon in a stunning lavender lehenga, the warm sunlight danced across the intricate embroidery, while he was standing infront of the salon. He straightened up from leaning against his car, his gaze lingering on me with admiration. 

I avoided eye contact, my gaze drifting away, and he sensed my reluctance. I started walking towards him, the rustle of my lehenga's fabric echoing softly with each step. 

        As I approached the car, he opened the door for me, carefully arranging my lehenga to prevent it from getting caught, his fingers brushing against the fabric. The air conditioning's gentle hum enveloped me as I settled in.

After closing the door, he got into the driver's seat and started the car. I looked out the window, trying to distance myself from him.

When we arrived at our destination, he opened the door for me. As I was about to step out of the car, he offered his hand for support, anticipating my need for help in the heavy lehenga. 

I gazed at his outstretched hand for a moment, a mind still simmering with anger. With family members watching us from the entrance, I discreetly placed my dupatta in his hand instead of taking his, subtly conveying my desire to keep him at a distance without drawing attention.

        As we entered the grand marquee, the soft glow of the chandeliers above cast a warm ambiance, and the hum of conversation filled the air. The scent of fresh flowers wafted through the room, mingling with the faint aroma of food from the buffet. 

After greeting everyone, he pulled out a chair for me, so we could sit together. However, I ignored him, pretending not to notice, and walked to the other side of the table, the cool glass of the table a subtle comfort against my fingertips as I grasped the edge, I sat across from him. 

For a moment, he stood there, watching me walk away from him, knowing well that I was intentionally ignoring him. Then, he walked towards me and sat beside me.

        As we stepped out of the marquee, the cool night air enveloped us, a welcome contrast to the warmth we'd left behind. The soft glow of the fairy lights and lanterns still twinkled within the marquee, but outside, the dimly lit surroundings seemed subdued in comparison. 

The soft rustle of my lehenga swishing against my legs as I moved. I picked the front of my lehenga in my hands, feeling the intricate embroidery beneath my fingertips, and was about take a step down, when he extended his hand to help me down the step, but I glanced at it from the corner of my eye and looked away. 

I walked past him, leaving his outstretched hand hanging in the air, and headed straight to the car, which the valet had brought around to the front of the marquee. 

The scent of polished leather wafted up as I settled into the passenger seat beside the driver's seat, he got in after me, took the driver's seat, and started driving, the warm glow of the dashboard lights casting a soft light on the interior.

        When we arrived home, the car stopped at the main gate, and the sound of gravel crunching beneath the tires filled the air. I opened the door, got out barefoot, feeling the cool breeze on my skin and the rough texture of the driveway beneath my feet. I left my heels in the car, having grown tired of wearing them the whole time. 

Meanwhile, the gardener opened the main gate, its creaky hinges echoing through the quiet air. I entered the house, the heavy lehenga swaying against my legs as I walked, its intricate fabric weighing me down. The delicate embroidery rustled softly against my palms as I held it up from the front, the gentle sound accompanied by the subtle jingling of my anklets and the soft swish of the fabric against my skin while he observed me from the car. 

The scent of jasmine wafted through the air, from the lawn outside, carried in through the open glass door. The sweet fragrance mingling with the faint fragrance of perfume on my skin as I walked towards my room to change, the familiar comfort of my space enveloping me like a warm hug.

In the meantime, he parked the car, the sound of the engine dying down and the crunch of gravel beneath the tires signaling the end of our journey.

        As I entered my room, the air was filled with the scent of roses. A stunning bouquet of nearly 100 red velvet roses adorned my bed, with a small box nestled beside it. 

I walked towards the arrangement, my fingers grazing the soft petals with a gentle touch, feeling the delicate texture and slight give of the rose's velvety surface. The soft rustle of the petals and the faint hum of the air conditioner in the background created a soothing melody.

I knew instinctively that Mustafa had arranged this romantic gesture. I opened the box, the creak of the lid broke the silence, revealing a beautiful gold bracelet that sparkled in the light. 

For a moment, I got lost in my thoughts, but then my reverie was replaced with a sudden burst of action. I closed the box and placed it on the couch, then carefully lifted the bouquet off the bed and dragged it down to the floor. I positioned it in the corner of my room, standing it upright with the stems wrapped in the sheets. 

        And then, I headed to the washroom to change out of my dress. After changing, I came out of my room, wearing a scoop neck loose Tshirt and stood near the kitchen counter, pouring water into a glass. The cool liquid splashed against the glass, and the sound of it filled the air.

From there, I spotted him standing on the porch, holding my heels in his hand—the same ones I had left in the car moments ago. He was engrossed in conversation with the gardener near the entrance door.

He caught sight of me from the corner of his eye. I picked up the glass and went into my room, thinking he'd head to the study room upstairs to rest, as he had slept there the night before. 

However, as I turned to dim the lights in my room, I saw him sitting in the lounge outside, waiting for me.

As I saw him, I slid into bed, pulled the blanket up to my waist, and turned my back to him, pretending to sleep rather than talk. 

He sensed I was ignoring him and got up, dimming the lounge lights before heading upstairs. I didn't bother to turn or look. I closed my eyes and fell asleep soon after.

        It was two in the morning. I was in a deep sleep when I felt him gently running his fingers through my hair. I opened my eyes slightly and saw him near my bed. 

As our eyes met, my gaze drifted away, and I let out a silent sigh. Not again, I thought. The last thing I wanted was to face him.

I sat up in bed, and he knelt down beside it, taking my hands in his gently but firmly. 

"You know why I came here," he said, looking at me. 

I kept my gaze on the floor, neither speaking nor showing any expression.

"I miss you," he continued. 

"I missed you so much. I came to apologize. I'm sorry. Please forgive me." His eyes searched for a reaction, but I remained still. 

"Say something," he added.

"What should I say?" I asked without looking at him. "What do you want me to say?"

He sat beside me, facing me, and held my chin, turning my face toward him. 

"Please forgive me. I can't live like this", he said.

I turned my face away again, and he pulled me close, hugging me. While i remained still, my hands resting limply in my lap.

"I love you," he said. "I love you so much. You know I loved you more than anything in my life. I promise I'll never do that again", he said and kissed my head as he held me. 

        As I freed myself from his hug, the soft fabric of his shirt brushed against my skin. He looked at me, his eyes searching for answers, and asked, "Can I stay here tonight?" 

I knew he hadn't slept well in the study room the previous night, so I let out a sigh and hummed in agreement. 

I placed cushions in the center of the bed, creating a barrier between us, lay down on my side, feeling the coolness of the sheets against my skin, turned my back to him, pulled the blanket up to my waist, and closed my eyes to sleep. 

For a moment, he sat there, watching me, before getting up to turn off the lights and lying down on the other side of the cushions.

        In the morning, the warm sunlight streaming through the window woke me up. I found myself wrapped in his arms, my hands tucked under my chin against his chest, my forehead against his chin, and his arms wrapped around my waist. 

The scent of his cologne lingered on his shirt, and his chest rose and fell with each gentle breath. I looked up at him, and he was still fast asleep. I glanced around, noticing that the cushions I had placed between us the night before were now on the couch near the bed, softly illuminated by the morning light. I wanted to get out of his arms, but I was wrapped too tightly. 

Instead, I stayed still, pondering how I'd ended up in his arms. When I felt him stir, I closed my eyes, pretending to sleep.

He shifted slightly to get a better look at me, then pulled me close, his warm breath on my hair, kissed my head, and hugged me tightly. 

        Afterward, he got up carefully, trying not to disturb me, and held my hand in his. The back of my hand rested in his palm as he slid my wedding ring back onto my finger—the same ring I had thrown at him during a tantrum. 

The metal felt cool against my skin, as he put the ring back in place, he kissed my head and left the room, the door creaking softly as it closed behind him. I opened my eyes, and my gaze lingered on the wedding ring on my finger. I kept looking at it for a while, lost in thought. 

As it Rains!

As I stood near the entrance door in front of the wide glass wall, lost in thought, gazing out at the rain-soaked view, the droplets on the glass created a soothing melody.

Suddenly, he appeared out of nowhere and wrapped his arms around me from behind, his warm breath on my neck sending shivers down my spine. My arms rested on top of his, and he gently kissed the side of my head, his lips brushing against my hair. 

As he did, his cheek came to rest against the side of my head. In that cold evening, his warm embrace was everything that I could have ever wanted. 

I turned to him while still in his arms, placed my hands on his chest, felt the steady beat of his heart, looked up at him, and said, "I want to go for a walk... outside... in this rain... with you". 

"Lady's first," he replied with a smile.

        As I got out of his arms while smiling, I placed my hands on my thighs, held the fabric of my gown in my palm, and ran away from him towards the outside, the sound of the rain growing louder. 

He picked the umbrella from the holder beside the entrance door, opened it with a soft whoosh, and started walking behind me while covering me with it. 

The scent of wet earth and leaves filled the air as we walked. I gazed at the rain-kissed view, feeling refreshed and alive, my eyes sparkling with excitement as a sweet smile spread across my face.

"You love the rain, don't you?" he said while looking at me, his voice low and gentle. 

"Of course, it's my favorite, even if it's winter or summer," I replied, feeling the cool raindrops on my skin as I stepped up onto a small wall, about 1 or 2 ft high, beside the plants. 

"Be careful," he said, while holding my hand. 

"Oh, don't worry, it's fun," I said while walking on the thin, small wall. "I won't fall," I added. 

"Even if you fell, I'd hold you," he said with a smirk. 

I blushed while looking at him. And then, I stepped off the wall, I held my gown up in one hand, while the other hand was securely in his. I deliberately placed my foot into the puddle of water that had gathered beside the wall. 

The cool water enveloped my feet as i was wearing strappy heels, and I looked up at him, my eyes sparkling with mischief, and giggled. 

His face lit up with a warm smile as he gazed at me, clearly delighted by my happiness.

Without warning, I kicked a splash of water onto him, and took off running, my giggles echoing through the air. 

He chased after me, his footsteps pounding the ground, and soon caught up to me. 

He wrapped his arms around me, his hands slid across my stomach, pulling me close to his chest. I felt myself collide with him, and my giggles intensified. Then, in a joyful spin, he twirled me around, our laughter mingling together in the rain-soaked air.

   At night, I was lying on my bed on one side, my one arm on my pillow across my face while the other arm was above my stomach; my legs were slightly angled. He came to bed and placed his head on my thighs; my knees were near his shoulder as he lay down.

 "Aren't you sleepy?" I asked. 

"Not really," he replied, his voice low and relaxed. He looked up at me, his eyes soft in the dim light. 

"What were you thinking about before I came over?" he asked, his voice filled with curiosity. 

"Brownie with chocolate ice cream," I said.

He chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "That sounds like a perfect midnight snack. Should I get it for you? Or maybe you should come with me too."

I was like, "No, I don't want to change," but he insisted, "Okay, but on one condition: I'm going in this nightgown, and I'm not getting out of the car", I said.

He grinned mischievously. "Deal. But just so you know, I'm going to make sure everyone sees you in all your nightgown glory." 

I playfully rolled my eyes, but a small smile played on my lips. 

"Just get the car ready," I said, throwing a pillow at him. 

He laughed and quickly got out of bed, pulling me up with him.

As we both headed out into the night, the cool air hit me. The city lights felt like stars on earth, and the peace was undeniable. When we arrived at the ice cream shop, he got out and went inside, leaving me in the car. I watched as he chatted with the clerk, laughing and smiling. 

A few minutes later, he emerged with two servings, each with a giant brownie chunk and a scoop of chocolate ice cream on top. He got back in the car, handing me my serving. 

"Here it is," he said, grinning.

I took a bite, and the combination of warm brownie and cold ice cream was heavenly. I closed my eyes, savoring the taste. 

He watched me, smiling. 

"Good?" he asked, already knowing the answer. 

I nodded. "Mmm-hmm".

A Night of Love & Laughter!

I was going to his family's house for a merienda, dressed in a navy blue velvet fit-and-flare dress, in the car, minding my own business. I thought I was going to attend this get together without him and he'd join me later. Then, the car stopped, and I leaned forward to see through the windshield why it had stopped. It was him. 

He asked the driver to get out of the car and take his car home, saying he'd take me to the destination. The driver did exactly as he was asked. He took the driving seat, looked at me through the rearview mirror, and said teasingly, "I'm here at your service, ma'am." 

I blushed and grabbed both sides of the front seat with my hands as I approached the passenger seat, placing my heel on the seat. His eyes locked on my calf muscle for a second. Then, he took my hand, placed it on his shoulder, and his hand reached to my waist to hold me while holding my other hand in his. As his hand reached at my waist, I felt a spark of electricity. His eyes locked on mine, and for a moment, we just stared at each other. "I've been wanting to do that all night," he said, his voice low and husky. 

I blushed, feeling a flutter in my chest. While sitting "What's that?" I asked, trying to sound casual. He leaned in closer, his face inches from mine. "I've been wanting to hold you close all night", he whispered. I looked away while blushing and pushed him away by placing my hand on his chest, he smiled and started the car.

        As we reached the destination, he got out of the car and opened the door for me. I stepped out, he took my hand and pulled me close. 

"Shall we make an entrance together?" he whispered, his breath tickling my ear. 

I nodded, feeling a rush of excitement.

        After merienda at his family's house, we all went out to get in the cars for a walk in the fresh air. And the cars stopped near the park. As we strolled along the lake's winding track. The cool breeze carried the sweet scent of blooming flowers. The branches of the trees swayed gently in the wind, their leaves rustling softly. The lake's calm surface reflected the cloudy sky, creating a sense of perfect symmetry.

While everyone else chatted and laughed, I walked ahead, lost in thought, taking in the peaceful atmosphere. The cool weather and serene environment seemed to quiet my mind, and I felt my worries fade away. 

Mustafa noticed my silence and approached me, his footsteps quiet on the path. He wrapped his arm around my waist, his touch warm and comforting. 

"What happened? Is there anything disturbing you?" he asked, his voice low and concerned.

I looked up at him, feeling a sense of gratitude for his thoughtfulness. 

"No, not at all," I said, smiling. 

He searched my face, his eyes narrowing slightly as if asking, "You sure?" 

 "I'm just enjoying this environment. It's so peaceful", I reassured him.

He nodded, his expression softening, and took my hand in his. His hand was warm and strong, enveloping mine in a gentle grasp. 

"You know, this is my favorite spot in the whole city," I said, feeling a sense of connection to the place. 

"I can spend the whole day just sitting here, watching the lake," I continued, feeling the stress melt away. 

Mustafa smiled, his eyes sparkling with the idea, and said, "Let's make it a regular spot for us, then".

"I'll bring you here whenever you need a break from the city chaos," he said, his voice filled with promise. 

I nodded while squeezing his hand gently. The peaceful atmosphere and each other's company made everything feel right with the world. 

        As we were walking, there was a spot where a singer was performing a live show under the cloudy sky. Some people were sitting, while others were standing and watching the performance, moving their bodies to the music. The dim lights of the venue cast a romantic glow over the scene, and the twinkling stars above added to the magic.

We stopped, our gazes exchanged, then he took my hand, and we entered the open-air spot. Then, he pulled me close, one hand holding mine while the other wrapped around my waist; I placed my hand on the back of his shoulder, with my arm resting on his biceps. I raised an eyebrow, looking at him with a smile, and we started dancing.

The singer's soulful voice filled the air as we swayed to the rhythm, our bodies moving in perfect harmony. The world around us melted away, leaving only the melody, the beat, and the gentle pressure of his hand on my waist. 

I twirled between his arms, feeling the freedom and exhilaration of the moment. The cool night breeze rustled my hair, carrying the distant sounds of the city into the background.

Then, with a sudden pull, he drew me close, and I felt myself hit his chest with a gentle force. I felt the warmth of his body, the gentle pressure of his fingers on my skin, and the soft fabric of his shirt against my palm.

My leg naturally wrapped around one of his knees, and I slowly slid it down to his feet, our bodies still swaying to the rhythm.

And then, I swayed away, our hands still touching, and he rolled me around his arm with a gentle force. The music seemed to guide us, and our movements became one. 

Finally, I came to rest in his arms; I laid down in his arms while he was holding me by the waist, and then he pulled me up with a gentle force. I started giggling, feeling safe and connected in his arms. 

Everyone started clapping and hooting. I turned around, blushing, while still in his arms. I nodded slightly and then Mustafa kissed my hair with a smile.

"Wanna enjoy a ride?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with excitement. 

"Umm," I said, hesitating for a moment as I scanned the colorful array of rides. 

"Yeah, that one," I said, pointing to the chair swing ride, my eyes lighting up with anticipation. 

He smiled, nodded, and led the way to the swing, his hand wrapping warmly around mine.

As we reached the ride, he pulled up the barrier of the chair and helped me sit down, his hands brushing against mine as he guided me into place. He released the barrier, and I felt a slight jolt as it clicked into position. 

The ride attendant, dressed in a brightly colored uniform, approached me, but Mustafa gestured him off with a confident smile. "I'll take care of it," he said, his voice low and smooth.

Mustafa helped me buckle up the belt, his fingers grazing against my waist as he adjusted the strap. 

"Comfortable?" he asked, and I nodded.

The ride attendant's voice boomed through the speakers, announcing that the ride was about to start. 

Mustafa kissed my hand, his lips warm and gentle, and stepped back while my eyes followed him as he stood there, watching us with a warm smile.

As the ride started, his brother, sitting in the next chair, shouted, "Whoo-hoo!" and asked everyone to join in. The air was filled with the sound of laughter and shouting, and I couldn't help but giggle and hoot along. 

As we soared through the air, I caught Mustafa's gaze, and his eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled.

"Are you having fun?" his brother asked, his voice carrying over the din of the ride. 

"Of course! I'm loving this ride!" I replied, my voice barely audible over the roar of the ride.

As the ride came to a stop, Mustafa approached me, unbuckling the belt and helping me get off the ride. 

"Oh, I'm feeling vertigo," I said, giggling and stumbling slightly. 

He wrapped his arm around my waist, his touch warm and reassuring. 

"Let me help you," he said, his voice low and gentle, as he prepared to scoop me up in his arms.

"No, no, not here. I can walk," I said, while  placing my hand on his chest, my voice firm.

He chuckled as he noticed my hesitation, and nodded, his eyes sparkling with amusement. 

I wrapped my hand around his biceps, and we walked out of the riding area together. 

        He walked away to get tickets for the bumper car rides, the sound of laughter and revving engines filled the air. I sat on the bench in front of the ride area. 

When he returned with the tickets, he casually handed them to me, his fingers brushing against mine. I took a look at the tickets and handed the tickets back to him, and his concerned eyes fixed on me.

"You go. I don't want to join; my head is still spinning from the chair swing ride", I said.

"Then I'm not going either. I'm staying here with her," he said, giving the tickets to his cousin. 

"No, no! You go! I'm fine. I'm going to watch you guys from here," I said with a reassuring blink, trying to convince him that I was okay. 

He nodded, and they all headed off to enjoy the ride. I watched them, laughing and bumping into each other, their joyful shouts and giggles carrying through the air.

        As I sat there, an elderly lady came and sat beside me on the bench. I smiled at her, and she smiled back, her eyes crinkling at the corners. I could sense she thought I was waiting for my child, to get off the ride. 

But as the ride ended and Mustafa came bounding towards me, a warm smile spread across my face. The elderly lady's gaze followed him, and she seemed captivated by his good looks. (She kept looking at him the whole time).

Mustafa reached out his hand, and I placed both of my hands in his, feeling the warmth of his palm. 

"Feeling better?" he asked, his voice low and gentle.

 I nodded, and he pulled me towards him. 

"I want to eat. I'm craving something," I said. 

"Okay, what are you craving?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with interest.

"Crisp sphere eaten," I said, my excitement evident in my voice. 

The sound of sizzling food from the nearby stalls made my mouth water. 

"Let's go then," he said, his arm wrapping around my waist. 

"Let me ask them if they'll join us," I said, turning to call out to the others.

"Oh, they'll come after us and join," he said, his arm tightening around me. 

I gave him a look and playfully jabbed him in the chest, and he chuckled. 

"Anyone craving crisp sphere eaten?" I asked, turning to the others. 

Everyone agreed with excitement, their faces lighting up at the prospect of food.

        His brother handed me the cold coffee in a sealed cup with a wide white straw, its icy contents rattling softly as he placed it in my hands. I didn't have the heart to tell him I detested coffee, so I accepted it with a polite smile. 

To pretend I was drinking it, I brought the cup close to my lips, the chilled glass a stark contrast to the warmth of my skin, and held the straw between my lips, but didn't take a sip. 

Meanwhile, Mustafa appeared beside me, a glass of fresh juice in hand, its vibrant color and enticing aroma a welcome respite from the bitter scent of coffee. 

''Didn't you hate coffee?" he asked with curiosity, his eyes sparkling with amusement. 

''Oh, I do,'' I replied, relieved. 

He chuckled, took the coffee cup from me, the straw still bearing the faint imprint of my lipstick, and handed me the fresh juice. 

To my surprise, he raised the coffee cup to his lips and casually took a sip from my lipstick-stained straw. 

"Should we play Ludo?" his brother asked, a mischievous glint in his eye. 

The others eagerly agreed, and the air was filled with excitement. 

"No, I don't think I can," I said hesitantly. "I don't even know how to play." 

His brother chuckled. "Don't worry, we'll teach you. Just come and join us." 

I couldn't resist their enthusiasm, so I agreed. Mustafa suggested forming partnerships, and the others nodded in agreement, and Mustafa became my partner. 

As we played, Mustafa skillfully made clever moves on my behalf, and I'd occasionally come up with a suggestion that Mustafa would thoughtfully incorporate into his strategy.

To my surprise, I won despite not knowing how to play – and everyone, including Mustafa, lost the game!

Everyone started teasing Mustafa, saying, "You went easy on her, didn't you?" 

His brother joked, ''Mustafa's got a soft spot!''

I blushed, looking at Mustafa with a smile.

"I'd lose every game in the world if it puts a smile on her face", he said while nodding his head good-naturedly.

The atmosphere erupts in a fit of hooting and giggles, with everyone playfully teasing Mustafa about his romantic declaration. 

The air was filled with laughter and playful jabs, and I felt happy to be surrounded by such warm and caring people

        They stopped the cars near an ice cream station, and the guys jumped out to order ice cream for everyone after asking for our flavor preferences. 

Meanwhile, we waited outside by the cars, feeling the cool gentle breeze in front of the colorful ice cream station. The sweet aroma of waffle cones and melting chocolate wafted through the air, teasing our taste buds.

As the guys returned with our treats, Mustafa handed me my cone. I looked down, carefully taking the cone from his hands, to make sure I didn't drop ice cream. 

As I looked up at him, I saw that his eyes had been fixed on me the whole time, and his gaze lingered on me, as if he was admiring me - I could tell he was fascinated by me.

In his lingering gaze I felt the world melt away, leaving only the soft rustle of leaves and the cool breeze brushing against us.

Moments of Vulnerability!

 

        I entered home after attending an event, wearing a wine-red sleeveless gown, left my heels at the entrance, lay down on the couch, and drifted off to sleep as I was feeling tired. 

After almost an hour, I woke up due to the guilt of sleeping in makeup and went to the bathroom to remove it. 

I placed my hands on the edges of the basin, looked in the mirror, and saw that the makeup was still intact, the blow-dried hair was looking great, the red lipstick was still in place, and the Smokey eyes were a little watery. I looked like a heroine who's depressed over her career. Too tired to bother, I decided to leave the makeup on.

Meanwhile, he arrived home, I turned to exit the bathroom, and as I stepped out, he entered the room, his eyes fixed on me. 

He was stunned, and said, "You look breathtakingly gorgeous." 

As he moved forward, he offered his hand for me to take. I placed my hands in his, and he pulled me close. 

As I blushed while looking at him, I placed my forehead on his shoulder, and my cheek almost touched his. 

He felt the warmth and placed his hand on my forehead, saying, "You're burning with fever." 

"Maybe, I've been feeling tired", I replied. 

He picked me into his arms, carried me to the car, and drove me to the doctor.

        The next morning, he placed the thermometer on my forehead to check my temperature. I opened my eyes slightly as I woke up. 

He was sitting beside me, smiling, and said, "Your body temperature is normal now," while placing the thermometer on the side table. 

"Take some rest; you'll recover soon. I've alerted the house-help, they'll take care of you," he continued.

"Are you going?" I asked, while getting up to sit.

 "Yeah, I have a meeting at the office. I'll be back in a couple of hours," he said, getting up from the bed. 

"Call me if you need anything," he added.

I hummed softly in response. He kissed my forehead and went outside the room.

As he was walking out of the house for his office, but then he stopped, turned, and came to me as I was still sitting on the bed. I turned back to see him, my eyebrows furrowed and my eyes fixed on him, thinking about what he might have forgotten. 

Instead, he said, "I wanted to say something to you last night, but I couldn't find the time". 

"You were looking breathtakingly beautiful yesterday. You know you're so beautiful. I don't know how I got you", he continued.

The furrows on my eyebrows smoothed out in an instant, my cheeks blushed, and my lips curled into a sweet smile.  

        In the evening, as the door unlocked, he walked in, and I smiled as he kissed me hello on the head while passing behind the sofa. But his gaze lingered, and he sensed the tiredness on my face. 

He sat down beside me, and I rested my head onto his chest, feeling the warmth of his body envelop me. His arm wrapped around my waist, and I slid his hand from my waist to my lower abdomen and placed my hand on his. 

I closed my eyes, hoping the gentle pressure would ease my cramps. He sensed that I wasn't feeling well. He kissed my head, wrapped a blanket around me, and with very light pressure, his hands moved in a circular motion from left to right, massaging my lower abdomen. 

After a while, he got up and fetched a heating pad, warming it up while reheating some chicken broth. He returned with a mug of steaming broth and the heating pad. 

I looked up at him, my eyes filled with gratitude, my lips curled into a sweet smile. 

He whispered, "anything for you, my lady!"

        I was relaxing on the wide couch placed behind the entrance door in the corner of the living area. My back slouched against the backrest, my head rested at the edge of the backrest, my knees bent, and my feet rested against the hassock placed in front of me. The fireplace was lit, creating a warm glow on the blanket placed over my knees.

I paused the series I’d been watching on the Chromebook, which was placed on one armrest of the couch. I closed my eyes for a few minutes. 

Meanwhile, he came, placed one hand, warm and gentle on my lower abdomen and the other against the backrest near my head, and brushed a kiss on my forehead. I opened my eyes and placed my hand over his hand on my abdomen.

“Let’s have this!” he said while picking up the bowl from the fireplace.

“I made some ramen for you,” he said while handing the bowl to me.

“Aw! Thank you so much!” I said while holding the bowl.

“Anytime!” he replied and sat down on the hassock with his bowl of ramen in front of me

“Mustafa!", I called in a low voice.

"Janem!", he replied with a loving voice and I blushed instantly.

"You must be tired because of the office, and now you have to do all of this. Don’t you?” I asked while moving the noodles with the fork.

“Worth it! — I’ve never told you this before, but you know what I used to think before marrying you?” he said while winding noodles onto the fork.

I slightly nodded to the side.

“I wanted to know what it’s like to be with you. I kept wondering—what’s it like to come home from work and see you here? To spend days and nights with you, sleep beside you, have a child with you? I wanted to know all of it. And now I’m here. It’s worth it; every minute and second with you—it was a dream and now I’m living it. I want to live this dream all my life", he continued.

I looked at him; my eyes wandered over his face, my cheeks flushed as my lips curled into a sweet smile.

"Just to see this shine in your eyes, I can do anything,” he added, and my lashes dropped.

“Don’t withdraw this love that I see in your eyes so that I can fight against all because I’ll know that you’ll be waiting for me when I get home,” he added. 

*After a week*

 In the afternoon, the main door creaked open, and I reached to open the entrance door, my heart racing with anticipation. As I pulled it open, I saw him standing there, a warm smile spreading across his face. He entered, and his warm, strong hand reached to held mine.

"Where have you been? I've been waiting for you," I said, while placing both of my hands in his hand, feeling a sense of relief wash over me.

"Waiting? You could've texted me, I would've run back to you," he said with a smile, his lips brushing against my forehead as he kissed me, sending a gentle tingling sensation through my skin.

"I know... Actually, I have some abdominal pain. I don't know what the reason might be... maybe I've displaced my navel," I said.

"How? Did you carry something heavy?" he asked, his eyes searching mine with concern, his brow furrowed in worry.

"No, I haven't done anything," I replied, shaking my head, feeling a slight ache in my stomach.

"Let's go to a physiotherapist then," he suggested, his voice firm but gentle.

"No, I want to see my gynae," I replied firmly, trying to assert myself.

"As you say," he said, nodding, his hand gently moving a strand of hair off my face, sending a gentle caress down my cheek.

"Atif could've driven me but I wasn't comfortable to go to gynae with him. I wanted to go there with you", I added while looking up at him.

"Of course... I'll take you. Atif is here for the house. But for you, I'm always here", he replied while moving the hair strand off my face.

        At the clinic, the doctor's words, the only voice in the sterile, antiseptic-scented room: "She had her navel displaced, but I've treated her."

"But she hadn't done anything, then... " he said, his voice filled with concern.

"Actually, she has weak abdominal muscles, which is why she has to go through this frequently," the doctor explained, her voice calm and professional.

"Frequently?" he asked, his eyes locking onto mine, and I felt a pang of guilt for not telling him sooner.

"I came here last month too, for the same reason," I replied, trying to avoid his gaze.

He understood and turned his attention to the doctor. "So, how can we prevent it? What are the precautions? What do you suggest?" he asked, his voice filled with concern, his jaw clenched in determination.

"Nothing much! Just a regular abdominal massage with some warm oil, and I'll prescribe some supplements to help her strengthen her abdominal muscles. Plus, stress makes things worse. So, make her stay away from stress," she suggested, handing him a prescription.

"Okay, thankyou so much!", he said while getting up. 

"Are you okay? Is there any pain?", he asked while he moved forward his hand, and I placed my hand in his.

"I'm fine.." I said while nodding and we walked out of the clinic.

        As we walked out of the clinic, the warm sunlight enveloped us, his fingers intertwining with mine, sending a sense of comfort and security through me.

"Why didn't you tell me about it before back then?", he asked, as he opened the car door for me.

"I thought it was just for once. I didn't know that it'll happen again...but here we are...", I replied while sitting in the car.

"What happened when you visited here last month?", he asked further as he started driving.

"I just had some abdominal pain so I visited here with sunny. Then, she treated me same as now. But she didn't tell that I've to go through this again", I replied. 

"You won't have to go through this again. We'll prevent it", he assured while kissing my hand.

        At night, he entered the room with a jar of coconut oil and a fondue cup, the scent of coconut filling the air.

"Aiiii, Mustafa," I said with annoyance, trying to roll away from him, feeling a bit self-conscious.

"Can't we do it from tomorrow?" I asked, my voice muffled by the pillow.

"But you need it," he replied, lighting the candle and putting a scoop of coconut oil in the cup to warm up, the soft glow of the flame dancing across the walls.

The soft glow of the candle illuminated his face as he started unbuttoning my shirt, his fingers brushing against my skin, sending shivers down my spine.

"Is the temperature of my hand right?", he asked while moving the back of his fingers on my abdomen from right beside my stomach to my navel.

I nodded and he took the oil from the cup in his hand to check the temperature and then dropped some drops on my abdomen and massaged it in with a light pressure.

As he massaged my abdomen, the warmth of his hands and the coconut oil seeped into my skin, relaxing me, making me feel like I was melting into the bed.

After a while, he grabbed the curve of my waist, brushed a kiss on my forehead, and I felt a sense of safety and comfort, feeling like I was wrapped in a warm hug.

I briefly opened my eyes to look at him, and then closed them again, drifting off to sleep, feeling his gentle touch as he buttoned up my shirt.

He laid beside me, pulling me into his arms, and I snuggled into his chest, feeling the beat of his heart against my cheek, the scent of coconut oil and his aftershave filling my senses.

The warmth of his body, the sound of his heartbeat, and the scent of coconut oil on my skin lulled me into a deep sleep, surrounded by his love and care, feeling safe and protected. 

Beyond The Facade!

 

 I woke up to pale morning light seeping in beside the curtains, the fabric glowing gold where the sun hit. 

He was still in a deep sleep, his breathing slow and warm. I slipped the blanket off — it whispered against my skin — and the cool bedroom air raised goosebumps as I padded to the bathroom for an everything shower.

Steam hugged me as I stepped out of the shower area, wrapped in a fluffy bathrobe. The bathroom smelled clean — faint floral from the body wash mixed with steam. My hair was dripping, heavy in the towel wrap. I smoothed thick body butter over myself, the scent of shea and cocoa sinking in, and then pressed some cool moisturizer to my face. My skin felt soft, almost dewy, as I walked out. The shower room was still fogged, drops sliding down the glass.

I walked out of the room to the kitchen, the fridge door sighed open. Cold air brushed my face as I grabbed eggs and some veggies, the shells smooth against my fingers. Veggies sizzled in the pan, butter popping softly while I whisked eggs — the fork clinking against the bowl. I placed the omelette on a plate, along with some berries. The omelette smelled warm, buttery.

Outside, the lawn air was cooler than I expected. I slid the glass door open and it whispered on its track. Jasmine was everywhere — sweet, sharp, mixing with damp grass from last night’s dew. Clouds hung low, grey-white, but sunlight broke through in thin, warm strips that dappled the table. 

I took the towel off my hair; and my damp strands fell on my shoulders. The morning breeze was soft, filling my lungs with something clean and quiet. I closed my eyes for a second and just breathed.

Then I cut into the omelette. The fork scraped the plate. But the smell hit me wrong and morning sickness rolled in — sudden. I couldn’t even take a bite. I set the fork down and looked up at the trees instead, leaves shifting silver in the breeze.

That’s when Mustafa came from behind. His lips pressed a warm kiss to my hair, then he pulled the chair out and sat across from me. 

 

"Are you going somewhere?" I asked, my eyes tracing the crisp lines of his shirt.  

"I'm going for work, even though I don’t want to leave you," he said, moving forward his hands.  

"Then don't go," I whispered, sliding my hands into his.  

"I have to... It's been days since I last went in," he said, thumb brushing over my knuckles. I nodded. "I called the househelp. They’ll be here soon," he added.  

"Call me if you need anything... Okay?" he asked, eyes soft.  

"Okay," I said.  

"Without thinking twice!" he added.  

"Done," I replied with a smile.

As he stood, I tightened my grip. "At least have some breakfast," I said, looking up at him. 

 

"Bon appétit," he murmured, bending to kiss my forehead. His hands cupped my face, warm and steady.  

"I’d make you something," I said, my fingers curling around his wrist.  

"Don’t worry. I’ll eat at the office," he replied, then walked out. The door clicked shut and the lawn felt emptier.

As he left, my eyes lingered on the untouched omelette for a second. The butter had started to congeal, dull on the plate. 

I got up, the chair scraping softly against the grass, carried the plate to the kitchen counter, and walked to my bedroom. My phone was cool against my palm as I scrolled through contacts and hit dial.

The ringing buzzed faintly as I drifted to the closet. The wood doors creaked slide open, releasing the faint scent of fabric softener. I ran my fingers over hangers until I pulled out a black peasant blouse. The velvet was soft, slightly fuzzy under my fingertips.  

"Hi! I want to book an appointment. Is it possible?" I asked, tossing the blouse onto the divan. It landed with a soft thump.  

"Yeah, for today — about an hour or two later," I said, then pulled out black slim-fit pants. The fabric whispered as I slid them off the hanger.  

"Okay... thank you! Have a good day," I ended the call.

And then, I let the bathrobe slip down my arms — the terry cloth felt warm, then cool as it hit the floor. The burnout velvet blouse settled over my damp skin. The scoop neck was wide, my wet hair sticking to my collarbones and décolletage in cold little strands. I tugged the puff sleeves until the elastic gripped just under my elbows, and my bare arms showed through the mesh-like velvet. It felt slightly sheer, almost ticklish.

I walked to the bathroom, took the hair dryer from the drawer. The motor hummed loud, and warm air blasted over my décolletage. The scent of my body butter warmed up in the heat and. I started drying my hair.

Then the doorbell rang — sharp, metallic. I clicked the dryer off. Silence rushed back in.

"Oh! It's you," I said as Atif stood at the gate, his eyes lowered, hands clasped behind his back.  

"Assalamualaikum," he murmured.  

"Walikumasalam. Come inside. I was waiting for you," I said. 

"Your order, ma'am... what is it?" he asked as he stepped in, shoes quiet on the the stones.

"No, not an order. I have to go somewhere. You have to take me there," I said, my voice lighter than I expected. Excitement buzzed under my skin.  

"Okay, whatever you say," he replied softly as he was about to get to the car.  

"And one more thing!", I said and he stopped. 

"Can you get my heels from this cupboard? The one I want is too high and Mustafa isn’t home..." I continued while standing at the entrance door.

"Of course... Which one?" He crossed to the cupboard, the hinges creaking as he opened it.  

"That strappy one... in the corner." I pointed. He pulled out the heels, and they tapped as he set it on the floor.  

"We'll be out after I get ready," I said, sliding my feet into the heels. "Miss Zareena will be home by then," I added.  

"However you like," he said, and walked out to the garage, closing the entrance door behind him.

When I stepped out, Miss Zareena was in the kitchen, the smell of tea brewing behind her.  

"Ah! You've arrived!" I said.  

As she turned and smiled, I cut in quickly: "I'm going out. If Mustafa asks, tell him I'm out with Atif... Okay, bye." The words rushed out. The front door clicked shut behind me as the  fresh air hit my face.

__________________________________________

As she slept on his shoulder, her warm breath brushed his chest and the faint scent of her shampoo — something clean, like rain — filled his senses. He texted Atif to come inside, since he was in the garage. Atif came, and Mustafa gestured for him to come in silently.

"Where did you take her?" Mustafa asked in a low voice, the words barely above a whisper. While Atif stood to his right, against the cool leather of the couch.  

"To the doctor!" he replied.  

"What doctor?" Mustafa questioned abruptly, the sharpness cutting through the quiet.

As Atif told him the address, the words hit Mustafa like ice water. He realized it was her gynecologist’s clinic. 

"That's it, you can go," Mustafa said, his voice flat. His mind started running through a hundred possibilities, each one heavier than the last. Then Aunt Husna's words started echoing in his mind, soft but relentless:  

_She's confused... but she's more scared... Keep an eye on her before she makes a decision and regrets it later._

He looked down at her. The sadness was visible in his eyes while she slept peacefully on his shoulder, her eyelashes dark against her pale cheek. 

He pressed his lips to her forehead — soft, warm, lingering — and inhaled. "What did you do to us?" he thought, closing his eyes, drowning in the fragrance of her shampoo.

After a while, his phone vibrated, the sound harsh in the silent lounge as it started ringing. He silenced it and placed it on the coffee table placed infront of him. But the screen kept lighting up, flashing white against the dim room because of back-to-back calls. 

He carefully shifted her weight, his arm steady under her back, and laid her on the couch. The blanket whispered as he pulled it up to her chin. Her feet were still in her heels, the leather cold against the fabric. He covered her gently, then picked up his phone and went into the room, the door clicking shut softly behind him.

When he came out, he closed the door with a soft thud, drew all the curtains in the lounge, the room fell into muted gray light and he went to the kitchen.

"Do you need something, sir?" Miss Zareena asked, as she got attentive on his presence.  

"Yeah. Make some soup/broth or something healthy for the lady," Mustafa said, his voice low than he intended.  

"I'll be out for an hour or two. I'll try to come back soon, but if she wakes up before I get home, stay alert", he continued 

"Make sure she has everything she needs, and if necessary, call me immediately," he added. 

She wanted to ask about the lady's health, but Mustafa's off mood and the hollow sadness in his eyes stopped her, and she couldn't ask him.   

"I'll stay attentive, don't worry," she replied softly, and Mustafa went to his study room, his footsteps echoing down the hallway.

________________________________________

       

I heard distant, angry voices as I was napping on the couch. The words were muffled, dragged through the walls, but the sharp, clipped edges of his tone still cut through the quiet. It made the air feel heavier.

While I was getting up, Miss Zareena moved forward to help me, but I gestured for her not to. I pushed the blanket off my legs — the fabric whispered against my skin — and placed my heels on the floor with a dull, echoing thud. My eyes drifted to the glass door of the lounge that opened to the lawn. 

I pointed to the glass door and looked at Miss Zareena, with a silent question: "Is the voice coming from here?" She nodded.

As I got up and was about to approach the glass door, Mustafa came out of the study room. His phone was pressed to his ear and his voice was low, furious — each word snapped like a wire. 

Seeing him like that, I froze in the middle of the lounge. He crossed the lawn, gravel crunching sharp under his shoes, yanked the car door open, slid in, and drove off. The engine roared, then faded, leaving behind only ringing silence.

I turned to look at Miss Zareena. She read the question in my eyes before I could speak.  

"Maybe it's about work. He said he had to go out a while ago," she said softly, trying to reassure me. Her voice was careful, too gentle for the tension in the room.

But something stuck inside me, cold and heavy. I walked back to the couch and sat down. The blanket was still warm where I’d been, but the rest of the room felt empty. My thoughts stayed stuck on him — on the anger in his voice, the slam of the car door, the way the house suddenly felt too quiet.

It was 11 at night, and he was late. I was in my bed, scrolling through reels, when I heard the main door unlock. I knew it was him. He entered the home, his footsteps quiet on the floor, and placed his keys in the bowl on the entrance table. As he entered my room, I pretended to be sleeping, my eyes closed, and my body still. 

He was dressed in a black suit, his black hair styled in a pompadour with an undercut, and a trimmed black beard that made him look like a mafia boss. He removed his coat and casually threw it on the couch, picked up his ledger from the side table on his side, and then sat on the bed across from me, his back resting against the headboard, and his eyes fixed on the ledger. 

I could sense his tension. The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast a warm light on his face, highlighting the furrows on his brow. His fingers moved swiftly through the pages, his expression a mix of concentration and concern. The silence in the room was almost palpable, broken only by the occasional rustle of pages or the soft creak of the bed.

I remained still, pretending to be asleep, unsure of how to react. I was lying there, facing him, watching him over my left hand, as I rested my left hand over the pillow right beside my face, and my right hand held the corner of the blanket, just under my chin. I considered reaching out to him, but something held me back, perhaps because I was scared of him. He seemed like a stranger, someone I didn't know. I'd never seen him like this before.

He caught my gaze from the corner of his eye and turned to me, his expression softening. Sensing my uneasiness, he wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me close. His lips brushed against my forehead in a gentle kiss, and then he enveloped me in a warm hug. My forehead rested against his neck, and I continued to pretend to be asleep. 

His voice was low and soothing as he whispered, "I love you, I'll always love you, no matter what. I've got nothing without you. Now sleep, like you've got nothing to worry about." His words were a balm to my soul, calming my fears and wrapping me in a sense of safety.

        I don't remember when I drifted off to sleep in his arms. But when I woke up in the morning, he wasn't there. I thought he must have left the house for his office. I got up, brushed my teeth, and washed my face. 

As I stepped out of the room, he was standing in the kitchen with his back to me, still dressed in his black button down shirt as a few buttons undone while his shirt sleeves rolled up, revealing his forearm muscles, busy searching for something in the pantry. 

Meanwhile, some pasta was boiling in a pot on the stove. The aroma of boiling pasta and sizzling garlic wafted through the air. I wondered where the chef was and what he was doing in the kitchen! Yet I didn't say a word.

He sensed me there, turned to the stove, and said, "I'm making some pasta for you, your favorite!" 

In my thoughts, I was like, "For me? Why? Didn't he have office today?" 

He said, "I took a day off today." A question raised in my mind. "To spend some time with you," he said after a pause.

Still lost in thought, I stood there as he turned to me, his eyes locking onto mine. He grabbed my waist, and my heart skipped a beat as he lifted me onto the kitchen counter. 

With his hands resting on the counter beside me, he leaned in close and said, 'You're quiet. I didn't hear a word from you since last night. You've never been like this.' 

I looked down, trying to avoid his gaze, but he gently took both of my hands in his and asked, 'What happened? Did I do something to upset you? Say something!'

I looked up at him, his eyes filled with concern. "When you left the house yesterday after that call from work, you weren't in a good mood. The anger was palpable on your face. And when you came back, you were still upset. I've never seen you like that. I... I just... I don't know what I'm feeling!", I said.

He noticed the distress in my eyes and gently brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, his other hand still holding mine. "I said it before, and I'm saying it again: I love you. I'll always love you. I could never be angry or upset with you. That side of mine is for the world."

His voice softened as he continued, "You know, around you, I forget everything – my anger, my worries. Everything dissipates with just a look at you." He kissed my hand, his lips warm against my skin.

'Are we good?' he asked. I nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. 

He smiled, reached out, and kissed my head. 

'I'm always here for you,' he whispered. 

'Now we should eat; it's almost ready – starving you would ruin the romance,' moving to the stove, he said with a chuckle.

"Mustafa", I called out his name while sitting on the counter. 

He turned to me attentively. I moved my hands forward to hold his. He quickly held both of my hands, his concerned eyes fixed on me. I tightened my grip, looking away, and said, 'You really love me that much?'. 

'Ofcourse, more than anything', he replied. I moved forward and kissed him on the cheek. 

With one arm behind my upper back and the other under my thighs, he picked me up in his arms, teasingly saying, 'You might have other plans, don't you want to eat?' 

I blushed and hit him with a playful jab on the chest. He chuckled, took me to the dinning table.

'Let me set the table for you', he said. 'I think it's ready', he added. 

'Yeah, smells amazing,' I said with a smile. He chuckled and stirred the pasta, the aroma wafting through the air once more. 

'Told you I'd make your favorite,' he said with a smile, serving the pasta onto plates and setting the table. We sat down together, and the first bite was like a taste of heaven.

And then he got up and headed to the living area, my gaze shifted to him while I held my fork in mid-air, pausing mid-bite. 

        The music started playing, and a smile spread across my face, but I tried to hide it. He came to me, extended his hand, and asked, 'May I have this dance?' 

I raised an eyebrow, surprised by the request, and my heart skipped a beat. His eyes sparkled with amusement as he smiled. I hesitated for a moment, the clink of silverware against the plate the only sound, before gently placing the fork on the plate. 

I placed my hand in his, feeling the warmth of his touch as he wrapped his fingers around mine. As I stood up from the chair, the soft fabric of my night gown rustled against my skin. 

''You know I'm bad at it," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. 

"Don't worry, I'm here for you,"  he replied, his breath whispering against my ear, sending shivers down my spine and then he pulled me close, one hand holding mine while the other wrapped around my waist; I placed my hand on the back of his shoulder, with my arm resting on his biceps. 

        As we swayed to the music, the soft melody wrapped around us, and he lifted my hand, his fingers intertwining with mine. I twirled against him, the fabric of our clothes rustling softly, and he pulled me close, his chest firm against mine. 

I felt myself collide with his chest, the warmth of his body radiating through my skin. Our eyes met, and he tightened his grip around my waist, his fingers tracing the curve of my waist. Our bodies aligned perfectly, and I could feel his heartbeat, steady and strong, against my chest. The scent of his cologne wafted up, a subtle yet intoxicating aroma that drew me in. 

He stood still, his gaze locked on mine, his breath whispering against my skin. With our faces inches apart, time seemed to stand still, and I forgot how to breathe, the only sound being the soft hum of the music and the beating of our hearts.

I placed my hand on his chest, my gaze drifting downward. As I broke eye contact, he sensed my hesitation and loosened his grip around my waist. 

Yet, I remained nestled between his arms, my hand still resting on his chest, fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. His concerned and confused eyes lingered on my face, searching for answers. 

I looked up at him, and without a word, I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. His arms slid around my waist, his hands grasping my sides, holding me firmly in place. As I closed my eyes, I felt a deep sense of peace wash over me, like I'd finally found what I'd been searching for forever. 

He gently tightened his grip, and in that moment, all I wanted was for time to stand still, to spend the rest of my life enveloped in the warmth and safety of his arms.

        As I pulled back, "There's something I need to tell you," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. 

"Wait here for me," I added, and went to the bedroom to get the file. 

As I was coming back to him, with the file in my hand, I suddenly felt unwell. A wave of dizziness washed over me, and the room began to spin. I stood there, placed my hand on the cool granite countertop of the kitchen counter, and looked at him, but everything was a blur. 

"Mustafa," I whispered, my voice shaking slightly, and then the file in my hand dropped to the floor, and I collapsed.

In an instant, he was beside me, catching me in his arms. He swept me up and carried me to the bed, cradling me with care. 

        As I regained consciousness, his worried face came into focus. I sat straight up on the bed, my eyes searching for the file. I spotted it on the side table beside the bed.

Watching my eyes on the file, he held my hand in his, his touch sending a surge of comfort through me. 

I looked at him, his eyes fixed on me.

"I've seen the reports. Is it true? Are you really...?" he asked, his voice filled with curiosity.

I nodded, my heart racing with anticipation, my eyes searching for his reaction.

A tear flowed from his eyes, and his lips curled into a smile. He kissed my hand, the warmth of his lips spreading through my fingers. 

"You just made me the happiest person in the world. You just gave me the whole world", he said, his voice filled with gratitude.

"It's the day I've been dreaming of since the day I met you. I can't wait to be a father," he added, his voice filled with emotion, and then he kissed my head, hugging me tightly.