A complex connection!

       

       .

        We talked for a few days until his PMA training started. During his training, I think we talked only once or twice. One time, when I made a new ID and texted him, he tried to ignore me, which gave me the vibe that he wasn't my type.

        Meanwhile, he was in contact with my sister, talking about me the whole time. He wanted to talk to me, but I was ignoring him. My sister assumed he had a crush on me and always insisted that I talk to him. I knew he had a crush on me, but I also noticed he was full of himself, which I didn't like.

        After two years of training, he became an army officer and approached me immediately. However, I didn't know he had texted me on my old ID, which I wasn't using frequently. When he got no response after days, he contacted my sister again, talking about me. This time, she convinced me to talk to him, even as friends. So, I did. Whenever he contacted me, the conversations weren't going anywhere; he would initiate, and I would reply with dry messages for one and a half month. 

        But he didn't back off. I noticed his efforts to have a conversation with me, and we became friends. I realized he was giving me all the right signals that he was interested in me. It wasn't love; we were just attracted to each other. One night, he confessed his feelings, so did I. However, he thought since I've confessed my feelings, I must be really in love with him. He took a step back, saying that we couldn't be together. He mentioned that we couldn't be together because there wasn't any guarantee of his life due to his job. In that exact moment, my dad came to my room, and I left the chat instantly to gave fully attention to him. He thought I left the chat out of sadness, grievances, or maybe embarrassment, but that wasn't the case. He sent 20-30 texts in a few minutes. Then, when I wasn't responding, he started calling me. 

        We both knew that our relationship had no future, so we were going with the flow, and we would separate when needed. 

        After some days, we were talking, and then he left a message on seen and didn't reply for weeks. He thought I might have gotten attached and would be craving his attention, but I wasn't. I didn't text him either; he was thinking maybe I would text him first, but I didn't, as I never do.

        After about two weeks, he approached again, and I replied. He was expecting a tantrum, but I was calm. Out of curiosity, he asked, "While I was gone, were you really not missing me? Aren't you hurt? Don't you want to fight?" 

I replied, "Why would I do that? You wanted to go, so you left—that's okay." He wasn't getting it; his assumptions weren't fulfilling his curiosity. 

        One day, he made a comment on my ripped jeans and said, "I can't be with a girl who loves such dressing. You've got to change your dressing sense; otherwise, we can't be together." 

He expected that now I would be attached to him and agree to whatever he said to be with him. But that wasn't the case. I replied, "Okay, then breakup. Everything will end here. Bye." 

He got confused again, wondering how it was possible that after months, I hadn't gotten attached to him. And he said, "No, I was just kidding. How could you end things so easily?" 

I replied, "You told me your rules—that you can't be with someone like me—so I just agreed. He replied, " No, no, i want to be with you".

        Days passed and then he said out of nowhere, 'What's your real name?' I looked up at him. 'The name you told me isn’t your real name,' he continued. 

'Then what's my real name?' I asked with a slight tilt in my neck. He replied with my mother's name. Since I had never told him my parents' names, I realized he must have checked whose name my SIM was registered under—it was my mom's. So, he thought I hadn't told him my real name. 'It's my mom,' I said. 

He remained quiet for a while and then said, 'Why can’t I believe you? I don’t believe you.'

I looked at him for a second, simmering with emotions that he had first checked my SIM registration and now wasn’t believing me. 'Then confirm where you got that information,' I replied, raising an eyebrow, and then I left. 

He called my name, but I ignored him. He ran after me, trying to stop me so we could talk. 'No, there’s nothing to talk about. We can’t be together. What’s the point of this relationship if you don’t believe me?' I said. He pleaded, reaching out to grab my hand. "No, don't you dare!" I said while taking a step back and left.

He messaged and called me repeatedly, the buzzing of my phone a constant reminder of his presence in my life. But I left him on 'seen,' ignoring the notifications.

        After a week or two, he approached me again, his eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made my heart skip a beat. He claimed he had gotten a gunshot right on his heart, his voice low and serious. 

However, since he was wearing a bulletproof vest, he had been saved, though with a stain on his chest as his skin had been pressed a little because of the bullet. The thought of it sent a shiver down my spine. 

I didn't believe him, so he removed his shirt to show me. I wanted to touch that mark but chose not to. 

He wanted us to patch things up, so I said, 'Can't we just be friends? I want us to be friends. This isn't working between us.' He was like, 'No, I can't be friends with you. I love you, and that's impossible for me.'

        After some days, he started telling me about the girls who had crushes on him during our relationship to spark jealousy in me. But I was like, "Yeah, that happens. You know that friend of mine who proposed to me, right?" He replied, "Yeah." I said, 

"That was my first boyfriend," knowing I was the first girl he'd ever been attracted. He said, while controlling his emotions, "Why didn’t you tell me before?" I replied, "You never asked me." He said, "I thought I was your first love, like you're my first love." I said calmly, "No, that's not the case. He was my first love."

You've always told me I'm your weakness. How so?" I asked. 

 I think about you every moment of every day," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. 

"Whether I'm at work or the gym, you're always on my mind. I text you day and night, and I wait for your replies, counting the minutes until I hear from you. When I see something beautiful, I wish you were here to experience it with me. I take pictures and share them with you, hoping you'll feel like you're a part of it. Every stunning view, every lovely moment, reminds me of you. Watching the sunset, gazing at the cloudy sky, or seeing the moon shine bright at night – it all makes me think of you. You've become the center of my world, the first thing on my mind when I wake up and the last thing I think about before I sleep. I feel like my life revolves around you, and I didn't even realize it until you came into my life. You're the melody that fills my heart, and I don't know how to live without you".

        "I really missed you today," he said while kissing my forehead. "You know my father won't agree to us. What are we going to do?" I asked while looking into his eyes, searching for answers. "We'll find a way, just give me some time," he said, trying to assure me. 

"Whenever we talk about this, you always say that you need some time. How much time? How long? How long do I have to wait?" I asked, taking a step back. 

"I don't know. Maybe three years. Just give me three years," he said. 

I snorted and said, "You must be kidding me. I told you to choose me or your job, but what did you do? You want to be with me and continue your job too. Well, that's not going to happen." 

He held me by the elbow and pulled me toward him, saying, "I love you, just wait for some time. I'm waiting for the right time." 

I  firmly pried his fingers loose, my skin warm from his touch. With a firm motion, I pulled my arm away, breaking free from his grasp. I took a step back, my voice firmed as I said, "No, you don't love me enough. Breakup. Yeah, I want a breakup. I'm breaking up with you." 

He looked taken aback by my sudden decision, his eyes widening in surprise. "Wait, no, don't say that," he pleaded.

He grabbed me by my waist, pulled me close. His arms wrapped around my waist, his grip gentle yet firm. "Don't do this. I can't live without you," he said. 

I placed my hand on his chest, pushed him to break free from his grip, and said, 'No, it's the end. Everything ends here," and turned to walk away. 

He called my name, tried to chase me, but I got into the car. I heard him saying, "May God damn me."

He still didn't back off; he tried to approach me for months, texting me everywhere and calling me throughout the day, even at night, despite my ignoring his calls and seeing his messages without replying.

        After I broke up with him, the next week I went on a friends' trip along with my male best friend and, my ex-boyfriend before him and then he got to know about my trip. When he got to know about my trip, he was shocked. 

He thought I would be like those girls whose worlds stop for a boy, and I'll stay in bed for days and cry over our breakup. He even texted me saying, 'Here I am... suffering... from all of this... and you went on that trip. Didn't you love me a little? Didn't you get hurt over all of this?' I left him on 'seen' again.

An unknown number called. I picked up and asked, 'Who's this?' He told me his name. Realizing it was him, I hung up the call. He called me again several times, but I didn't pick up. 

Then, one day, I found out he had been in an accident during some attacks on the border. He had been shot by bullets in his left arm and shoulder. Even after three surgeries, he couldn't recover 100% in his life. Because of this, he couldn't continue his military service as per the military rules. So, he had to take retirement

"I replied to his messages to know how he was doing, and then he told me that when I last picked up his call was the time when he regained consciousness after the medical treatment. He wanted to talk to me, but I had hung up without listening to him

        

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 was sitting at the table in my office at my workshop, talking to a designer on a project about how I wanted it to be, who was standing beside me, while the manager, Jawaria, was standing in front of me against the table. 

In that moment, the resource person entered the room, still standing close to the door and said something to Jawaria. 

"....... arrived to pick, ma'am", I overheard and looked up from the file placed in front of me on the table. 

"Mr. Mustafa has arrived to pick you up, Ma'am", Jawaria said humbly with a sweet smile. 

"Okay... I'm coming", I said with a smile while slightly nodding. 

As I walked out of the workshop after seeing everyone off, the warm sunlight hit my face, and the sound of birds chirping filled the air. He was waiting for me in the car at the gate, opened the door of the passenger seat from the inside for me. 

I sat beside him, and he pressed the accelerator, and the car started to move smoothly. 

"How was your day?" he asked, his voice filled with concern. 

"Good.... Well, great", I replied, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. 

"Okay... What are we having for lunch? Are you craving something?", he asked, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. 

"Yes, please, even I just had a sandwich but I still have an appetite for something", I said, my stomach rumbling slightly. 

He chuckled and asked, "okay... What do you want to have? What are you craving?" 

"Something sweet... Maybe a cake or something..." I replied, my mouth watering at the thought. 

"Or maybe an ice cream.. yeah definitely an ice cream", I added, feeling a thrill of excitement. 

"Okay, anything else", he asked, his voice filled with amusement. 

I shook my head, and soon, he stopped the car near a cafe. 

"Shall we?", he asked with a glint in his eyes. 

I shook my head while knitting my brows. 

He got attentive. 

"I'm really tired. Can't you bring everything here?" I asked, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over me. 

He turned to me, his worried eyes fixed on me, held my hand in his, "Yeah, of course, anything you want", he said, while moving a hair strand off my face. 

"What is happening with you? You've been feeling tired a lot lately. Are you okay?", he asked, his voice filled with concern. 

I looked away, my eyes searching for excuses. "No, nothing. I'm fine", I said while trying to brush off his concern. 

"I think we should go to the doctor after that", he said trying to insist. 

"No, no. There is no need for that. I'm fine. It's just..... I couldn't, I couldn't sleep well last night", I said, trying to convince him. 

His concerned eyes fixed on me, looking for a clue to believe that I was actually fine. 

"Just drop me off at home after that. I'll take a nap. I think I need that", I continued, feeling a yawn building up. 

"Don't worry, I'll be okay", I assured. 

"Okay, as you say", he said. 

"Enough of this conversation, I want ice cream, man", I said teasingly, trying to lighten the mood. 

He smiled, "okay, just a moment", and went into the cafe.

As he dropped me at home, and went back to his office, I changed my dress and slid into my lounge gown, feeling the soft fabric against my skin, and went to bed to get some sleep. The cool sheets enveloped me, and I drifted off to sleep, lulled by the sound of the air conditioner humming in the background.

In the evening, I was sitting on the couch in the living room, when I heard the creaking sound of the main gate and the sound of the tyres of his car entering the house. 

He parked the car, I got up, opened the entrance door, and the warm glow of the porch light illuminated his face. He entered home, he placed his laptop bag, on the stool near the entrance. 

"Are you going somewhere again?", I asked curiously, my voice barely above a whisper. 

"Yeah. I'm taking your car. The oil needs to be changed, the tank probably needed to be filled. Moreover, on the way back, I'll get it service too", he said, his eyes scanning the room. 

"Okay.. They called me. Everyone is asking about our arrival. I told them that we can't come today. we'll leave tomorrow in the morning. What do you say?" I said, feeling a sense of uncertainty. 

"If you say we can leave tonight?", he asked, his voice filled with determination. 

"No, I think we should rest today. We'll leave tomorrow", I replied, trying to sound convincing. 

"Okay. Whatever you say" he said. 

"Have you packed everything", he asked while looking at the packed suitcases. 

"Yeah, almost. Maybe a thing or two would be left. I'll do it afterwards", I replied, feeling a sense of relief. 

He nodded, " Okay, I'm going. I'll be back after about an hour or half".  

"Mustafa!", I called out his name. My voice barely above a whisper. 

He got attentive and turned to me.

"I need to go to salon. Can you take me afterwards?" I asked, feeling a sense of excitement. 

"Of course. Whatever you say", he said. "Be ready. When I'll be back. I'll take you", he added, his eyes sparkling with affection. 

I nodded and he went. As he left, I sat on the couch again, scrolling through reels, and then I thought of him, how he'd been busy, working for me, doing chores for me throughout the day. He must be hungry now, I left my phone on the couch, got up and went to the kitchen. 

I opened the refrigerator, take out some frozen chicken and some ingredients and light the stove to make his favorite chicken karahi. The aroma of spices filled the air.

As I was garnishing the dish, something clicked in my mind, "maybe we should leave tonight", I thought, feeling a thrill of excitement. I took out the disposable tupperware container, took out the chicken karahi in it, left it on the shelf and rushed to the bedroom. 

I took everything needed, packed the suitcases and bags. 

"Atif", I called out the caretaker. 

He rushed to me, "Please take these bags and suitcases into Mustafa's car", I said, trying to contain my excitement. 

I took my wallet, hand bag, my shawl and placed it on the backseat while he arranged the suitcases and the bag in the trunk. 

"You can take off from today. I'll inform when we'll be coming back", I said to Atif, feeling a sense of freedom. 

"And tell Atiya too that we'll not be here for some days", I added, trying to sound casual. 

"Okay, ma'am. Have a joyful vacation", he said smiling, his eyes sparkling with happiness. 

"Thankyou", I said while nodding, feeling a sense of gratitude. 

He left and the phone started ringing in the lounge. I picked up the call. 

"Hi, mom!", I said while walking up the stairs, the cool marble floor beneath my feet. 

"Hi, how you have been?", she asked, her voice filled with concern. 

"Good", I replied while locking the windows, the sound of the locks clicking into place. 

"I just got to know that you'll be leaving tomorrow morning, it's good. We'll have lunch together", she said, her voice filled with excitement. 

"Uhm, there's a slight change of plan. We'll be leaving tonight", I said, while locking the terrace door, the clinking sound of the keys and the shutter sound of the lock, was the only sound that could be heard in the home other than me. 

"That's good. Everyone have been waiting for you guys", she said, her voice filled with relief. 

"It's just me saying. Mustafa doesn't know about it. I didn't tell him yet. He isn't at home. I'll talk as he gets home", I replied, feeling a sense of guilt. 

"Still I've to go to salon, then we'll leave directly from there", I added, trying to sound calm. 

"Okay, have a safe journey" she replied while I put all the keys in my drawer and lock my bedroom too, the sound of the lock clicking into place. 

"Inform me when you leave", she added, her voice filled with concern. 

"Okay, I'll... Allah Hafiz", I hung up, feeling a sense of relief. 

I tossed the phone again on the couch and turned to kitchen, cover the lid of the tupperware, wrapped some tortilla in a paper and wrapping bag and place them on the dashboard of his car, so he could have it on the way, the sound of the bag rustling in the silence. 

I was coming back enter the home, meanwhile, the main door unlocked, I turned to have a look, it was him, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. 

"Shall we?", he asked, his voice filled with excitement. 

"I'm thinking of something....", I said, trying to sound casual. 

He got attentive. 

"Maybe we should leave tonight", I added, feeling a thrill of excitement. 

"Okay, whatever you like... I'll park your car then we can leave in mine", he replied, his voice filled with enthusiasm. 

I entered the home, took my phone, my charger and the keys of the entrance. Meanwhile, he entered home after parking my car inside, I handed him over the keys. 

"Where are the suitcases and bags?", he asked while looking around, his eyes scanning the room. 

"Everything is in your car. I asked Atif to put them in your car", I replied, feeling a sense of accomplishment.

"Okay, I'm going to lock everything up", he said and turned to walk to the stairs, his footsteps echoing through the hallway.

"Wait, I've locked everything, just these two doors remain; the entrance and the main gate", I replied instantly, my voice filled with a sense of urgency.

"So, shall we?", he asked again, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

I nodded, and we walked out of the home, the cool night air enveloping us, and the sound of crickets filling the silence. 

He locked the entrance door, and the main gate, the clinking sound of the keys and the shutter sound of the lock, was the only sound that broke the stillness of the night. While I walked towards his car, parked outside, the gravel crunching beneath my feet.

The cool night breeze hit me, carrying the scent of blooming flowers and the distant hum of the city. I sat on the passenger seat, feeling the soft leather beneath me, and he took the driving seat, started the car, and we went off into the night, the stars twinkling above us like diamonds.

The city streets were quiet, the only sound being the hum of the engine and the occasional hooting of a distant car horn. We drove in comfortable silence, the tension of the day melting away with every passing moment.

After driving for 5 minutes, he stopped the car in front of the salon, the bright lights of the building illuminating the dark surroundings. 

"Here we arrived," he said, his voice breaking the silence. 

"I'll be back in 20-25 minutes," I said while taking my bag from the backseat, the soft rustle of the bag's fabric filling the air. 

"Okay, I'll be waiting here," he replied.

I got out of the car and stepped into the salon, the warm aroma of hair products and the hum of chatter enveloping me like a cozy blanket. The sound of laughter and the click of scissors created a lively atmosphere, making me feel at ease. 

After about 35 minutes, I emerged from the salon, feeling refreshed. The cool evening air hit me, making me shiver. He was still there, in the car, waiting for me, his eyes fixed on the salon door. He opened the door from inside, and I slid into the passenger seat, feeling a sense of comfort and familiarity. 

"You're early! I thought you'd take more time," he said while I placed my bag on the backseat, the soft thud of the bag hitting the seat echoing through the car. 

"You look great. These wavy hair suits you," he added, his eyes scanning my face, making me blush.

I smiled, feeling a flutter in my chest, and picked the shawl from the backseat. The soft, fuzzy texture of the shawl felt comforting as I wrapped it around me, the warmth of the heater enveloping me like a hug. 

"By the way, I made something for you for dinner," I said, my voice filled with excitement, as he turned the heater on a higher degree, the warm air caressing my skin. 

"Really?" he asked, his eyes lighting up with excitement, making my heart skip a beat. 

"Yup...., Chicken karahi, your favorite!" I replied while picking the tupperware from the dashboard, the savory aroma of the karahi wafting out.

He picked the tortilla, took a small portion of it, had some chicken karahi, made a bite, and then had it, his eyes closed in appreciation. 

"Oh! The aroma! The taste! Everything's great!" he said, his voice filled with sincerity, making me beam with pride. 

"If I hadn't tasted food made by you, I must've thought that it'd been ordered from a restaurant," he added, his voice filled with admiration.

"I'll take that as a compliment," I replied while raising a brow with a smile.

"Infact, it is. Have a try!" he said, while moving forward the tortilla to me. 

"No, I don't need... I'm feeling full," I replied.

As we continued our journey, the soft song playing in the background created a soothing atmosphere, making me feel drowsy. The dark landscape whished by outside my window, the occasional flash of headlights illuminating the car, making me feel like we were in our own little world. He drove smoothly, his hands confident on the steering wheel, making me feel safe and secure.

After about an hour, we were moving through a dark area with trees on both sides, the only sound being the creaking of the trees and the occasional hooting of an owl. The darkness outside made the car feel like a cozy cocoon, making me feel snug and protected. 

"Mustafa, I need to use the restroom," I said, breaking the silence, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Okay, there'll be a petrol pump nearby. We'll stop there," he replied, his voice calm and reassuring.

He stopped the car at a petrol pump, the bright lights illuminating the dark surroundings, making me squint.

"Let me see first. You wait here," he asked and got out of the car.

After a moment, he came back and opened my side of the door. "Come," he said, his voice gentle. 

I went out of the car, removed the shawl from my shoulders, and he took it from me. The cool night air hit me, making me gasp, as I got out of the car. 

As I came out of the restroom, The cool night air rushed in, sending a shiver down my spine. He wrapped the shawl around my shoulders, his fingers brushing against my skin. 

"Do you need anything from the tuck shop?" he asked, his voice concerned, making me feel cared for.

Uh-huh... It's too cool outside", I replied. 

"Let's get back in the car. Or you'll get cold", he said while opening the car door for me. 

I sat in and he took the driving seat. As we continued our journey, the soft song playing in the background lulled me to sleep, the warmth of the car and the gentle motion of the vehicle making me feel like I was floating on a cloud. I changed to a knee-to-chest position with my eyes closed, feeling the warmth of the car and the gentle motion of the vehicle, my feet touching his hand, as he rested his arm on the armrest.

He felt the chill from my feet, touched my feet again with the back of his hand, and then he stopped the car, pulled the short blanket from the backseat - which he always kept in his car for me, placed it on me, the softness of the blanket feeling heavenly on my cold feet. He placed the back of his hand on my forehead and brushed a kiss on my head, his lips warm and gentle, making my heart melt. 

And then, he started driving again, with his one hand on the steering wheel while the other, he placed his palm on my feet, his fingers curled to hold them, the warmth of his hand feeling like home in that cold night.

I opened my eyes, watched him drive, and he noticed my gaze, turned to me, his eyes sparkling with amusement, making me feel like I was the only person in the world. 

"You up!" he said, his voice low and husky, making my heart skip a beat. 

"You need anything?" he asked further, his voice filled with concern, making me feel cared for.

"Uh-huh... But I need to use rest room again", I replied.

"Okay! Just a minute or two. There'll be something nearby", he said.

I nodded. 

"Something's stuck in my mind?" , he said.

I looked at him with a question in my eyes.

"You're feeling cold. Your feet are freezing despite the fact that heater is on", he asked, his voice filled with concern. 

"I don't know... ", I replied while looking away, avoiding his gaze.

"What you had for the dinner?", he asked. "What you ate after that icecream?", he asked further.

"Mustafa!", I called his name, my voice just above a whisper.

"Well.. you didn't.... Okay..", he said. "Now we're having dinner", he added while stopping a car infront of a restaurant.

"I don't want anything. I told you before. I don't have an appetite", I replied out of frustration.

"But you need it. Probably your BP is dropping", he insisted.

"But I don't want it. I'll have it when I feel like it", I said, feeling like being lectured for nothing.

"You need it or you'll faint as your BP is dropping", he said.

"Fine. Do whatever you want", I said angrily and got out of the car. 

He got out of the car and we entered the restaurant, the bright lights and the aroma of food hit me like a wave, making my stomach tingle with hunger. The warm atmosphere enveloping us, making us feel like we were in our own little world.

As we sat at the table, he was looking at the menu, his brow furrowed in concentration. 

"What do you want to have?" he asked, his eyes meeting mine. 

I sighed and rolled my eyes, my anger and frustration boiling over, the sound of the restaurant's background noise fading into the distance. 

"Order something", he said.

"Do whatever you want", I said while simmering with emotions and stood up.

"I'm going to restroom", I added while leaving the shawl at the chair.

"Let me come with you", he said humbly, picked my shawl and started walking after me.

As I got out of the restroom, he tried to wrap the shawl around me, his fingers brushing against my skin. 

"Don't you dare try to get close to me," I said, warning him, while taking the shawl from his hand, my voice barely above a whisper. 

"Till we get to bed," he said teasingly, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

"No, you'll not be going to sleep beside me. Find yourself somewhere else," I replied angrily, my heart racing with emotions. 

"If only you could sleep without my touch," he replied teasingly, his voice low and husky, making my heart skip a beat.

"Let's see then", I said and walked towards outside.

"Where are you going?", he asked while walking after me. 

"To the car", I replied, my voice short.

"What about dinner?", he asked further.

"I don't want to stay here. I'll have it in the car", I replied.

He opened the car door and I sat in the car. As he closed the door, he went inside the restaurant and after a moment, came out and sat beside me in the car.

After a while, the waiter arrived with the food, handed over everything to Mustafa. As he handed me my plate, looking at Alfredo pasta, my anger dissipated, the aroma of the pasta hitting me like a wave, making my stomach tingle with hunger. I took a bite, and oh, it was heaven, the flavors exploding in my mouth. He knew my love for pasta, and I couldn't stay mad at him, my heart melting with love and affection.

The scent of fresh earth wafted through the air, as we reached his farmhouse. He got out of the car, while I turned, grabbed my bag from the backseat. He opened my side of the door, took the bag from my hand as usual, and moved forward his hand for me to hold. 

I rolled my eyes, and brushed past him while ignoring his hand. He smiled and started walking behind me. The farmhouse's creaky wooden floorboards groaned beneath our feet, as we entered through the entrance door.

I was making my bed to go to sleep when Mustafa entered the room with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He stood there, looking at me. 

"What is it, Mustafa?" I asked annoyingly.

 "That's the question you need to be asked?" he replied, his voice low and husky.

"I'm going to bed," I said, getting into bed. 

He nodded teasingly.

"Are there any other rooms, Mustafa?" I asked with frustration. 

"I swear no," he said. 

"The bed is big; it's not a problem for me. But if you can't control yourself, then I'm all for it," he said with a mysterious smirk. 

I picked up the cushion from the bed and threw it at him. He chuckled and got into bed. 

"You'll only see this in your dreams," I said while lying down. 

"It's cold; you can lay close to me to keep warm," he continued. 

"Mustafa, sleep peacefully!" I said, closing my eyes.

After a while, as I was sleeping, I heard a noise from outside through the window—a soft rustle against the pane. I woke up. Thinking it might be a cat, I turned to sleep again. I don't know why but I couldn't sleep; the sheets felt cold, the room too quiet. 

I got up, sat on the bed, and looked at him, deep sleep humming in his breath. I picked up my phone—its screen a cold glow— and then something came to my mind. I placed it back on the side table, the wood solid under my fingers, turned close to him, slightly removed the blanket between us, and slid down near him. 

As I lay beside him, the cotton cool at first, I closed my eyes to sleep; and then he suddenly but gently wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me closer while his eyes still closed. My forehead rested against his neck, his skin warm and familiar.  

"Don't you dare think that we've made up," I said while nestling in his arms.  

He nodded. "Okay, I won't!" he said, brushing a kiss on my forehead. 

"Now, sleep peacefully," he added, while his grip around my waist tightened and I drifted off to sleep.

In the morning, as I woke up, I slightly opened my eyes to find him sitting in front of me on the divan lying beside the bed, watching me as I slept. The morning light streaming through the window highlighted the sharp angles of his face.

"What are you doing?" I asked. 

"Nothing," he replied, his voice soft.

"Are you watching me like a pervert?" I said, getting up. 

He smiled and looked down. 

"Can't I watch my wife while she's sleeping?" he said, looking at me, his voice low and gentle. 

I rolled my eyes, "Ahh, not again..." I said, getting out of bed, the wooden floorboards creaked beneath my feet.

 As I walked past him, he held my hand, and I looked back at him. He gestured for me to sit beside him, and I sat. 

"Look at me," he said. 

I looked up at him. 

"I know you're hiding something from me," he continued, his eyes searching mine. 

I looked away, trying to hide it. 

"It's been days... I can see there's something in your eyes; I can read it, but I don't know what... but there's something," he added, his voice filled with concern.

"There's nothing," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper, and got up, and went straight to the bathroom, leaving him there on the divan.

At night, I was searching for him, eager to escape the farmhouse with him. When I spotted him, he was sitting in the terrace with his aunt, a soft shawl draped over his broad shoulders, the dim lights casting a warm glow on his features. 

The scent of blooming jasmine wafted through the air. I stood close to the entrance, my eyes locked on him. 

"Mustafa... You got some time?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, while slightly gesturing outside. 

"Yeah, sure! Come here," he said, his deep voice resonating through the air as he removed the shawl's edges beside him, inviting me to sit beside him in his arms.

"I don't want to..." I said while starting to sob silently, overwhelmed by hormonal fluctuations as he couldn't understand.

The sound of my own ragged breathing was the only sound I could hear, until he got up and walked toward me.

He strode through the other entrance, his footsteps quiet on the wooden floor, and then suddenly scooped me up in his arms effortlessly. 

I was stunned by his sudden grasp and then melted into his warm embrace. The warmth of his body enveloped me, and I felt my tension melt away as he pulled me close and started walking towards outside.

"Can you see the waterfall? Isn't it beautiful?" he whispered in my ear, as he stopped near the window.

"Yeah! I want to go there," I said, my voice filled with excitement. 

"Okay, sure," he said, his chest vibrating against mine as he spoke.

As he carried me outside, the cool night air enveloped us, carrying the scent of damp earth and leaves. 

I became conscious that everyone was looking at us, their faces a blur as they admired the intimate moment we shared. 

I dug my face into his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of his skin, and forgot everything around us. The world narrowed down to the two of us, suspended in this moment.

After a while, a mischievous glint sparked in my eyes, and I held the neckline of his shirt with my teeth, looking up at him with a playful smile. 

He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and asked while winking at me, "Are you hitting on your husband?" 

"Shouldn't I?" I said, raising an eyebrow, my voice barely above a whisper. 

"Oh! I'm all for it...," he said, his lips brushing against my cheek and down to my neck, sending shivers down my spine. 

I giggled and playfully jabbed at his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath his shirt. 

He smiled and kissed my forehead, the touch sending a flutter through my heart.

Meanwhile, we reached the embankment of the waterfall and sat down on the grass. He enveloped me between his arms, my head naturally finding its place on his shoulder, my upper back resting against his chest, as we looked at the waterfall, taking in the serene, peaceful environment. 

The sky above was a canvas of twinkling stars, and the sweet scent of blooming flowers wafted through the air, mingling with the earthy smell of damp soil.

Then he asked, ''Can I ask you something?'', his warm breath whispering against my ear. 

I nodded, feeling the gentle vibration of his chest as he spoke.

''What happened back there? You started sobbing out of nowhere,'' he continued, his deep voice filled with concern.

I sat straight, between his arms and turned to him. ''I've been feeling overwhelmed since evening because there's a lot of people back there,'' I replied.

''Why didn't you tell me about this?'' he asked while taking my hands in his, concern filling his voice. 

''I've been looking for a way out to spend some time with you alone, despite the fact that I've been pushing you away for days," I said and looked down.

''I'll always be there for you... even if you throw me out the door, I'll come to you through the window,'' he replied. 

''You're the only thing I want in this life. I don't want anything except us,'' he added, his lips brushing against my hair.

When we reached back to the farmhouse, he stepped onto the front porch. The cold air bit my cheeks.  

"Everyone's still up," I said, hearing the low hum of chatter from the lounge.  

"Seems like it," he replied, opening the front door, while the hinges of the door groaning.

"Let's join them!" I suggested as we stepped inside.  The heat pressed against my skin after the chill outside.

"Are you sure? You just started feeling better," he said, closing the door behind him.  

"Yeah, of course. I'm good. Don't worry," I replied, shrugging his coat off my shoulders.  

"As you say," he said, giving up.

"Oh, the lovebirds are here," Mohsin teased and everyone smiled as we entered the lounge, firelight dancing across their faces.

"Aye, Mohsin! Look around," I said, gesturing to the elders in the room.  

Mohsin pressed a finger to his lips and smiled mysteriously, as if to say he'd be quiet, while his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Mustafa slid his arm around my waist, pulled me close, and said, "Well, I don't know about her. But I'm obsessed with my wife," before brushing a kiss against my temple.  

I rolled my eyes, slipped out of his grip, placed his coat on the armrest and said, "Yeah, like you had been left to tease me," then sat on the single couch. He pulled the hassock, placed it beside me, and sat there while smiling mysteriously.

"We were going for a walk. Would you join us?", Mohsin asked me, already bouncing on his heels.

"I'm tired. You guys go. Have fun!", I replied to him while reclining on the couch, I shoved a cushion under my head on the armrest — the fabric was cool against my cheek — and let my eyes drift shut.

"Okay", he said with a thumbs up, while I snuggled under the mustafa's knee-length coat. It smelled like him — and something warm I couldn’t name.

"Well, we aren't going to ask you to join. Since you're on your wife duty," he teased Mustafa

"Mohsin!", I called out as he teased Mustafa, waggling his eyebrows.

"Okay, okay. I'm going", Mohsin replied with his hands up, backing away with a grin.

"You'll be on such duty soon! I'll make sure of it," Mustafa replied as he caressed my hair.

"Well, have a look at yourself first. You're probably gonna get sue for the child marriage", Mohsin shot back.

"Seriously Mohsin!", I said while tossing a cushion at him. It hit him on the chest with a soft thud. The polyester filling barely made a sound.

"Child marriage? Nah. If I ever gonna get sued... It would be because of my obsession for her", Mustafa replied calmly.

"Seriously? I'm done with both of you!", I said as I surrendered. The coat slipped off my shoulder, and Mustafa immediately tugged it back up, tucking it around me.

"But look how tiny she is!", Sunny piped up from the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. “How she accommodate on that couch so easily".

"Yeah, you just had been left!", I said while rolling my eyes.

"Well, I'm just stating facts", sunny replied with a shrug but he was fighting a smile.

"For the record, she’s older than both of you in every way. So behave accordingly", Mustafa replied.

Mohsin snorted. “Whipped.”  

“Completely,” Sunny agreed. 

As everyone went out, the front door opened and closed with a gust of cold air. The elders’ chatter with Mustafa turned into a low murmur like distant radio static. 

His fingers moving through my hair, the fire crackling and popping. My eyelids grew heavy from the warmth, the weight of his coat, and the rhythm of his touch. I fell asleep there.

His POV:

"Is she alright? Her social battery has been low today." his aunt asked, trying to see if he knows the truth or not.

"Yeah, she just got overwhelmed because of the crowd here," he replied while kissing his wife's shoulder.  

"Why weren't you by her side? Where had you been? How could you neglect her?" she pressed, curiosity and concern in her eyes.  

"I just got busy with the management and the boys in the yard," he said.  

"Can I neglect her? I can't even breathe without her. I just thought she needed some space," he continued, his throat tight.

"Now, I think I was wrong", he added while caressing his wife's hair.

"Okay! But take care of her. She needs you more now," she advised him.  

"Now? Did something happen?" he interrupted.  

"No, nothing. I'm just saying... She's emotional... you know it," she said, trying to cover up, but something clicked in his mind.  

"I'll be upstairs. You take rest too," she added as she tapped his shoulder — a light, warm weight — and left. Her footsteps faded on the stairs.

Meanwhile, he sat there, the fire casting shadows that crawled across the floor. His eyes fixed on the dark grain of the wood, mind searching for clues. Then he began piecing everything together:  

How tired she was when he picked her up from work. How cold she felt during the drive even with the heater on. The fights she picked, how emotional she'd been, how she constantly needed sleep. And then he looked at her, sat infront of her on the coffee table while watching her sleep. The rise and fall of her chest under his coat. The way her hand rested protectively over her stomach, even in sleep.

Something clicked, and he realized everything.

He leaned back and smiled with quiet happiness. Contentment washed over him. _So that's what you've been hiding from me,_ he thought. 

He held her hand carefully not to wake her up, as it was rested against her face, and brushed a kiss across her knuckles.

And then he rested his elbows on his knees, his eyes fixed on her. _That's the reason for the confusion and fear, I've been seeing in your eyes,_ he thought. _Oh! You've been carrying all of this alone._

He then slid his hand down to cover hers where it rested against her stomach. Barely a touch. Just enough to say _I’m here. I know. You’re safe._

_I’ll wait,_ he decided, pressing his lips to her hair. _I’ll wait till you make the decision… and tell me._

___________________________________________________________________

 He slid his arms behind my back — one under my knees, one bracing my shoulders — and picked me up. The sudden lift startled me awake. For a moment my eyes fluttered open to the dark ceiling, but his shirt smelled like clean laundry, and I closed my eyes again, exhaling as I snuggled into his chest.

He carried me to the bed. The mattress dipped as he lay beside me, the sheets cool against my legs. I turned into him by instinct, resting my head in the hollow of his shoulder. His skin was warm. I fell asleep again while he tugged the blanket up around us, the soft _shh_ of fabric the last thing I heard.

In the morning, pale light was cutting through the curtains when I woke. He was sitting on the divan beside the bed, elbows on his knees, watching me sleep. I looked at him and then rolled onto my back, the pillow rustling under my hair.  

"Have you made it a routine to watch me sleep from there?" I asked, my voice rough. I stretched my arms overhead.

He smiled, looking down at his hands. "Well, if you don't know, I've got a really pretty wife," he said as he stood. The divan creaked as his weight left it.  

"So?" I questioned as he sat beside me. The mattress sank under him. His hands pressed into the bed right under my armpits, caging me in.

"So, I think there's nothing wrong with a husband being obsessed with his wife," he replied. His breath was warm on my cheek before he started kissing me, down the line of my jaw to my neck. 

"Aye! Mustafa!" I called out, giggling, my voice breaking. I turned onto my side away from him, but I was still between his arms, trapped by the heat of him.  

He kissed my hair — it still smelled like the shampoo — then slid his arms between my waist and the bed. The cool sheet slid away as he turned me onto my back again. His forearms were solid against my sides.  

"Are you comfortable here?" he asked, his eyes searching my face. "I mean, do you miss home?" he added, quieter.  

"Yeah. I'm good. But yeah, I'm missing home..." My voice trailed off. "But it's important to be here," I finished.  

"Okay then, we're going home now," he said with certainty. His hand was already reaching for my hair catcher on the nightstand.  

"No, Mustafa. Today's the main event — we can't go," I said, catching his wrist. His skin was warm, pulse steady under my fingers.  

"Let it be. We can go home. Let's get freshened up. Meanwhile, I'll pack," he said while turning to get up. The bed shifted.  

I held his arm. "I have a better solution." He stilled and looked at me, then placed his hand on the bed beside my head. The scent of his soap was right there. 

"Let's attend the event, then we can go back at night after it's over," I said, my hand sliding down to rest on his arm below the elbow. His muscles tensed under my palm.  

"Okay, as you say. But today I'm not gonna leave you alone. Know that before," he said. His voice was soft but it wasn't a request.  

"Yeah, even if I throw you out of the window," I said while smiling, remembering our conversation from yesterday.

"Yes, even if you throw me out of the window", he repeated after me with a smile.

As I came out of the washroom, the air clung damp and cool to my skin. My eyelashes were still wet, sticking together in tiny spikes, and my face felt tight and clean, smelling faintly of rose soap.

"Mustafa! I’ve been thinking about something," I said, standing in front of the vanity. I scooped up moisturizer. The cream was cool and slippery under my fingertips, smelling faintly of freshness. 

"What is it?" he asked while packing things in the suitcases placed on the bed. 

"We were supposed to stay here for a week and now we’re leaving. Everyone will ask the reason. What are we going to tell?" I muttered, dabbing at my under-eyes while applying bb cream.

"Of course, the truth!" he replied. I could hear him rifling through drawers, the soft rustle of fabric. While I steadied my hand and brought the mascara wand to my lashes. The smell hit sharp and chemical. 

"What truth, Mustafa?" I taunted, turning just enough to catch his reflection behind me.  

"That my wife isn’t comfortable here," he replied, innocently, oblivious to the heat rising in my chest.  

The wand froze mid-stroke. "Seriously! How come I couldn’t think of it?" I snapped, and tossed the mascara into the makeup bag with a dull clatter against the vanity.  

"Right?" he teased, and I could hear the smirk in his voice.  

"I’m gonna kill you for real, Mustafa!" I said, my jaw tight, my pulse throbbing behind my ears.  

"Oh, I’m ready to be killed by these delicate hands of yours," he replied in his flirty tone, and I could picture him leaning against the wardrobe.  

"Mustafa!" I called out, sharper this time.  

"Janan!" he answered back in that slow, loving drawl, the snap of the suitcase latch cutting through the air as he closed it.  

"Come to your senses already. You’re not going to say this to anyone," I said, wiping my fingertips on a tissue. It was rough against my skin.  

"Okay, then what are we going to say?" he asked, his eyes smiling, his shadow falling over the vanity as he came closer. Inches apart, I could smell his cologne now — mixing with the scent of my makeup. I forgot everything  even to breathe. I turned instantly to the vanity.

"Come up with something else," I said,  picking up the lipstick while trying to stay in my senses. The lipstick was smooth and creamy, the wax slick as it slid over my lips. 

"But don’t you dare tell anyone that I’m the reason for our departure" , I added while trying to stay mad at him.

"Don’t worry. We’ll say that I have some meetings to attend," he replied, smiling.  

"Is it good?" he asked.  

I gave a short nod.

"I’m placing these suitcases in the car. Here’s the one with today’s event dresses for both of us," he said, pointing to the duffel on the divan. 

"Someone will see you, and then the interrogation will start," I said, rolling my eyes. Distant music from today’s event drifted in through the window.

"I’m taking it from the back door, and everyone’s wandering here and there for today’s event," he replied, trying to assure me, his voice already drifting toward the hallway.  

"Okay. Whatever feels right to you," I shrugged, and the silk of my dress whispered against my skin as I moved.

"Hi!" I said as I spotted Aunt Husna in the kitchen. The air smelled of brewed tea, soft sunlight spilling across the marble counter.  

"I’ve been waiting for you to wake up. Come sit with me," she said, pointing to the dining chair beside her. Her voice was low, warm, like the steam rising from her own cup.  

"Something happened?" I asked as I sat beside her at the dining table, the wooden chair cool against my legs.  

"No, I was just worried about you. You must be hungry now," she said, gesturing to Parveen to set the table.  

"To be honest, I’m starving," I replied with a smile, my stomach giving a quiet rumble.  

"I’ve been instructing Parveen for your breakfast," she said as Parveen placed a plate in front of me. It looked like a whole platter: grilled chicken still sizzling faintly, its edges charred and smoky, boiled eggs with a soft sheen, ruby-red berries, sliced banana, and fresh cucumbers. A tall glass of orange juice sat beside it. 

"Aye! Thank you!" I said to Parveen. She nodded and smiled, the scent of citrus from the juice drifting toward me.  

"Please, join me," I asked Aunt Husna.  

"No, dear. Bon appétit. We all just had our meal an hour or two ago."  

"Don’t you think it’s a lot for me?" I asked, looking at the plate. 

"No, not at all," she said, smiling as I took a slice of cucumber. 

"I think you need it now," she added, patting my hand resting beside the plate. Her palm was warm, grounding.  

I looked at her, stunned. "Um... how?... I mean what?" I said, trying to collect my thoughts, the fork felt heavy in my hand.  

"I know," she replied with a smile, her eyes soft but sharp.  

"How? How do you know that?" I asked, turning to her fully, the fork clattered against the plate as I set it down.  

"I’ve been observing you since yesterday," she replied.  

"Am.... Am I that obvious?" I asked, my eyes searching for an answer, my throat dry.  

"Maybe," she said, but it sounds like a yes. 

"Uff, then Mustafa must’ve noticed too!" I said in a worried tone, my voice a little shaky.  

"No, he didn’t," she tried to assure me.  

"Are you sure?" I asked, picking at the edge of the tablecloth.  

"Relax, I’m sure of that," she assured, her thumb brushing over my knuckles.  

I nodded, staring at the plate. The steam from the chicken had mostly faded, leaving the scent of herbs.

"Why haven’t you told him yet? If I may ask!" she asked.  

"Of course you can... It’s just... I don’t know if we’re ready for it or not. Most precisely if I'm ready or not. I don't know... I haven’t made any decision yet," I replied, confusion clear in my voice.  

"Look, you’re like my own daughter. Don’t be scared. Take your time, think, and make a decision. Then talk to him about whatever you decide. Okay?" she advised, her voice full of affection. She tucked a hair strand from my face behind my ear, her fingers gentle.

"You think he’ll understand?" I asked, pushing a berry around with my fork.  

"Of course. He loves you more than anything. He’ll understand," she said, getting up from her chair. The chair leg scraped softly against the floor.

I turned to the table, looking at my plate, lost in thought for a moment. "Know that since the moment I realized your situation, I’m so happy for both of you," she said, kissing my head. The faint scent of her jasmine perfume clung to my hair as she walked away.

 

I took a berry, leaned back on the chair, and stared at the plate, lost in thought. Meanwhile, Mustafa entered the kitchen. His footsteps were soft against the tile, walked behind me, kissed my head, and sat at the head chair close to me. The chair creaked faintly under his weight.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, resting his hand on the dining table.  

I blinked once to say yes and slid my fingers into his hand. His skin was warmer than mine. He kissed my hand, looked up at me, and I squeezed his hand, my nails digging into his skin. He didn’t flinch. His other hand reached to hold my face, his palm covering my cheek, and I melted into his touch as if I’d found my peace.  

"I need some fresh air," I said, my voice quiet, tucking the hair from my face behind my ear. "Can I have this breakfast out there?" I asked, pointing to the lawn at the back of the kitchen.  

"Sure," he said. 

He picked up my meal, walked to the mesh table on the lawn, and set it down. The warm winter sunlight hit my skin, golden and soft, cutting through the chill. 

He opened his arm, gesturing for me to sit beside him. I sat beside him, leaned back in his arms, and rested my head on his shoulder, his jawline close to my head. I could hear the steady sound of his breathing. His touch was warm as he slid his arm around my waist, enveloping me in his embrace. 

I looked up at him, my head still on his shoulder, then kissed him just above his jawline, and he melted into that kiss as he closed his eyes, his breath catching.  

"It's good that you exist," I said.

His grip around me tightened as brushed a kiss on my hair, his lips lingering for a second longer. "You make it worth existing for!", he replied, his voice low, tingling in my ear.

The makeup artist smoothed the sari at my shoulder, her fingers careful around the fabric. The black net was soft and sheer on my arm, as I wore a half sleeves blouse, while the silver tilla work on the black sequins glinted quietly whenever I shifted, like stars caught in thread.

Meanwhile, I heard a knock at the room’s door. I turned to look as Mustafa stepped in a monochrome formal outfit: a dark grey turtleneck clinging softly to his neck, black dress trousers sharp at the crease, layered with a long black coat that brushed against his knees and black loafers. The clean, woody scent of his cologne reached me before he did.

"Am I in the wrong room?" Mustafa teased, his voice low and amused.  

"Mustafa!" I called out.  

"I mean, who’s this girl? Do you know her?" he asked, glancing at the makeup artist. 

"Your lawfully wedded wife", I replied, gesturing the makeup artist to leave. "The one who legally owns 50% of everything you own", I added while raising an eyebrow as I tried to hide the blush creeping up my cheeks.

"100%... 100% of everything, including me," he said, stepping forward.His hand was warm as he held it out.  

"Allah Allah," I said as I slid my hand into his while his grip was steady.

"Wait a minute. When did you get time to twin with me?" I asked looking up at him as he pulled me close gently.  

"I always make time when it’s about you!" he replied, and leaned down slightly, inhaling the jasmine and musk of my perfume, eyes closed for a second like he was memorizing it. The warmth of his breath grazed my temple.

“Everyone’s waiting for us downstairs,” I whispered, my voice thin against the quiet between us. My cheek grazed slightly against his jawline. My fingers flattened against his chest, feeling the steady, fast thud of his heartbeat through the fabric of his shirt. My finger tips trailed down—over the center of his chest, lower to his stomach, each movement slow and deliberate.

“We can’t be late,” I continued while my other hand found his, our fingers intertwining. I wrapped myself into his arm as he slid his hand behind my back, our fingers still locked together.

“Mustafa,” I moaned. He tightened his grip, and I pressed myself against his chest.  The warmth of his body seeping through me.

"They won’t start the ceremony without us,” I managed, but the words felt distant, drowned out by the warmth of his lips moving from my cheek to the curve of my neck. 

“I can’t hold myself back anymore,” I surrendered, my voice low and frayed. My hand found the back of his neck, fingers curling into the dark hair there, pulling him closer.

“Stay in your senses. Help me stop. We shouldn’t do this now,” I said, my voice barely steady.

He kissed my shoulder, the warmth of his lips a brief counterpoint to the cool air on my skin, then pulled me into a tight hug. I pressed against his chest, and I could feel his heartbeat slowing.  

“Take a deep breath,” he murmured against my hair. His voice was low, and steady.  

He eased back just enough to look at me, his eyes searching mine—checking, waiting. When he saw my nod, he pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, barely more than a whisper of touch.  

Then he took my hand. His palm was warm and dry against my fingers. I followed him to the window, and he pushed it open, and the evening air rushed in—sharp, clean, carrying the faint scent of wet earth and distant rain. It hit my face, a clean slap against flushed, overheated skin.  

“Breathe in,” he said. I drew in the cold air, feeling it expand in my chest, sharp and clean.  

“Breathe out,” he continued. The breath left me slowly, carrying the heat and the tightness with it. 

“Better?” he asked, his thumb brushing slow circles over my knuckles.  

I nodded. The air filled my lungs without a hitch now, and the frantic thud in my chest had quieted to a slow, even beat.  

"Shall we?", he asked.

I nodded and wrapped my fingers around his bicep.

“Woah! It’s so cold out here,” I said as we stepped out into the lawn decor. Fairy lights glimmered overhead, and the damp grass gave off that sharp, earthy scent of late evening.

“Let me,” he said, gripping the plackets of his coat to take it off.  

“Don’t… It’ll ruin the outfit,” I said, placing my hand over his to stop him.  

He paused, smiled, and gave a slight nod. I walked toward the girls, The sward was buzzing with music and laughter. The fairy lights dazzling around the greensward.

From across, I could see Mustafa standing by one of the decorated tables as Aunt Husna walked up to him.

_____________________________________

"You knew it, didn't you?", Mustafa asked, not looking at her. His eyes kept moving over the crowd.

"She told you? Have you guys talked?" Aunt Husna asked, hope flickering in her eyes but worry tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"No, she didn't... I realized yesterday," he said, his voice low.

"Well, I'm hoping that she talks to you," she sighed. "She's confused, Mustafa. But deep down? She wants it too. I can see it."

He finally looked at her then, and the worry in his eyes was clear. "I'm not sure. She hasn't talked. I don't know what she's thinking."

Aunt Husna stepped closer. "Let me tell you one thing — she's more scared."

"Yeah... I noticed that too in her eyes."

"Then keep an eye on her," she said firmly, placing a hand on his arm. "Before she makes a decision she regrets later."

_________________________________________

"I'm craving cake. When will it arrive?" I asked, leaning against the table.

"But don't you like the chocolate one?" Mohsin asked.

"I do," I replied, a little stunned by his question.

"Then let me remind you," he said, crossing his arms. "It's the matchmaking ceremony. So the cake's gonna be some white cream cake."

"It's gonna be a chocolate cake," I replied with calm confidence.

"I don't think so," he said, sure of himself.

"Then make a bet," I suggested, a grin spreading on my face.

"Sure, why not. What's the stake?" he asked.

"10k," I said.

"Done. Here's mine!" he said, pulling out the notes from his wallet and slapping them on the table.

"You're gonna lose that for sure," I said, already turning away. "Let me go grab mine."

I walked over to Mustafa. The moment he saw me coming, his whole attention shifted to me.

"I need some money," I said, mischief dancing in my eyes.

He handed me his wallet.  "Anything else?"* he asked.

"No... wait." I took two 5k notes out, handed his wallet back, and walked back to Mohsin.

I was halfway there when the waiters came in with the cake. And just like I said — it was chocolate. Rich, dark chocolate, with glossy ganache dripping down the sides. Mohsin saw me from across the room as I was blushing from my win.

"You knew it!" Mohsin said as I reached him.

"Technically yes," I said, trying not to laugh. "I suggested the idea of a chocolate cake. And it got approved."

"That's cheating!" he said, pointing at me.

"I told you, but you insisted," I shrugged. "What can be done now? Deal is a deal!" I said teasingly, holding out my hand.

"Fine. Here's your payout!" he muttered, handing over his 10k with dramatic defeat.

"Thank you," I said, tucking both stacks of money into my hand and blushing all over again.

Mohsin sighed, then gestured toward the cake table. "Let's go fulfil your cravings," he said. 

After a while, “Mustafa!” I called out as he stood with the boys. I pulled the corner of my sari’s pallu forward and wrapped it around my back against the chill.  

“You need something?” he asked, his arms opening toward me. His hands wrapped around my elbows, the rough net of the sari catching slightly under his palms. 

“No, I’m just going inside for a while. I can’t take this cold anymore,” I said.  

“Okay! Let me take you,” he said as he took off his coat.

“No, there’s no need. I was just telling you so you’d know,” I replied and he draped the coat over my shoulders. The warmth trapped in his coat seeped into my skin instantly, carrying his woody cologne with it.  

“When I say I’ll take you, then I will,” he insisted, and held out his hand. 

“Okay,” I said, sliding my hand into his, and we walked inside the farmhouse.

The moment we stepped in, I moved to the fireplace. The sequins on my sari dazzled in the golden glow, throwing tiny sparks across the stone. Heat sank into my chilled skin, and I sighed. 

“Do you smell that?” I asked, heading toward the kitchen. He followed behind me, smiling.

The counter was full of catering trays dressed with all kinds of desi food. I picked up a kebab and took a bite. 

“It’s really delicious,” I said, offering him the rest. He took it from my fingers and ate it while watching me taste other dishes.  

“You know, this morning I was craving something different,” I said while he light the stove. So I won't feel the chill.

“You could’ve told me. I would’ve arranged it for you,” he replied.  

“But Aunt Husna made breakfast specially for me. I couldn’t refuse,” I said, as I shrugged off his coat from my shoulders and placed it on the dining chair.

“And just so you know, when we get home, I’m having French toast. I’ve been craving it since morning,” I said, taking another bite.  

“Well, we can have it now,” he replied.  

“Seriously? Here? At this time? How?” I asked, looking at him.  

He nodded. “Well, you’ve got your chef right here,” he said, rolling up his sleeves.  

“It’s iconic. We left the event so you could play chef for a while,” I said, perching on the counter beside the stove.  

“With you, everything in my life is iconic,” he said, pulling ingredients out of the fridge.

"Oh! I forgot to tell you something. Remember when I asked you for money a while ago?" I said as he cracked eggs into the bowl. The shells made a soft _tap_ against the ceramic.

He nodded, not looking up.

"Actually, Mohsin and I had a bet," I added, pointing toward the kebab on the counter while he reached for the other ingredients.

"I realized that," he said with a smirk, and handed one to me.

"How so?" I asked curiously, bringing it close to my mouth, waiting for his reply.

"The mischievousness in your bright eyes told me in that moment that it was another bet," he replied, as he made a plate of different food items from the counter and placed it beside me. 

"Aye! I like it when you get me like that,"* I blushed, and he smiled, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

"I guess it’s because I’m always around you like a bee around a flower," he flirted, whisking the batter. The whisk made a soft _whoosh_ against the bowl.

"Maybe...", I tried to hide my smile. "Well, let me tell you the best part. I won. And I got double."

"Double?" he asked, laying the french toast on the hot pan after dipping it in the batter. It sizzled immediately.

"One from Mohsin and the other one — the bet from you. Now I got both," I replied proudly, raising a brow.

He chuckled, flipping the toast with a spatula. "Well, what was the bet on?"

"Cake!" I replied.

"Cake?", he asked, looking at me curiously.

"The ceremony’s cake. He insisted it'd be some white cream one. I told him it’s gonna be a chocolate one. He didn’t believe me, so I asked for a bet... He agreed, and I won," I said, grinning, feeling proud.

        

As I sat in the passenger seat, I turned to grab my bag from the backseat.  

"What's this?", I asked, smiling, pointing to the little bedding he’d made for me on the backseat. 

"It's just... You sleep mostly while we travel," he replied, eyes on the road. "So I did it for you."

"But I don't have any plans of sleeping today," I said, my voice filled with excitement. "Look at the weather. The dark night, the warm street lights, the cool breeze... It's so lovely. I'm going to enjoy this drive today."

"Let's see where the night goes," he said, with a quiet hint that he knew I’d end up asleep anyway.

And I did. The city sounds faded. Fewer cars. More quiet. Just the wind brushing the trees outside and the soft hum of the engine.  

After a while I felt uncomfortable. I shrugged off his coat and let the pallu of my sari slip from my shoulder. He noticed immediately.  

He pulled over to the side. Without a word, he helped me unwrap the sari. I passed it to him and then I bent my knees, struggling to unbuckle my heels, my eyes heavy with sleep.  He reached over, undid the latch, and I let them drop. I curled up on my heels on the seat and rested my head on his shoulder.

He kissed the top of my head. His grip around me tightened.  

"You're okay?",he asked softly.

"Hmm," I hummed, eyes already closing.

"You need something?" , he asked further. 

"Uh-huh," I murmured.

"Then let me help you sleep on the backseat," he suggested.  

"Uh-uh. I want to sleep like this," I mumbled.

"But this way your muscles will get stiff," he said gently. "Let me help you to the backseat. You sleep. I'll drive. And when we get home, you can stay in my arms. Okay?"

I looked up at him, barely opening my eyes, still tucked in his arms.  

"I promise," he added.  

I nodded and sat up. He helped me to the backseat, laid the blanket over me, and then placed his coat on top — heavy, warm, and smelling like him. Without thinking, I pulled the collar closer to my face and breathed in.  

He folded my sari and placed it on the passenger seat. The engine started again.  The hum was low and steady, like a lullaby. The road was smooth, the tires making a soft _hmmmm_ on the asphalt.  

Outside, street lights blurred into streaks of gold. The soft _click_ of the indicator. The sound of him shifting gears. And every few minutes, his eyes in the rearview mirror, finding me. I wasn’t awake enough to open mine, but I felt it. That quiet check.  

Somewhere between sleep and awake, I felt his hand. Just for a second. He reached back, adjusted the blanket over my shoulder, and tucked it under my chin. His fingers were warm. No words. Just that small, careful touch before he went back to the wheel.

"Mustafa!" I called in a soft, pleading voice, almost childlike. "I need to remove my makeup."

"Okay," he smiled, his eyes on me in the rearview mirror.

"We've arrived," his voice came, low so it wouldn’t startle me, as he stopped the car in front of a restaurant.

I didn’t answer. I just made a small sound in my throat and buried my face into his coat. The fabric smelled stronger there.  

He got out, took my heels from the passenger seat, and opened my door. I sat up, removed the blanket. While Kneeling on the ground, he helped me slip my heels on.  

"My handbag," I said, taking his hand to get out.  He grabbed it from the front seat. I was still clutching his coat. He took it from me gently and draped it over my shoulders.  

Inside the restaurant, the attendant took the coat. We walked to the washroom. I went in, and he stayed by the door.  

"Mustafa!" I called, my voice soft, peeking through the door. He was leaning against the wall beside it. He stepped in immediately, eyes scanning me to make sure I was okay.  

"I think I'm still half asleep. I'm gonna fall here," I said, pushing my hair away from my face with one hand, eyes still heavy.  

He smiled and leaned back against the basin counter, his adoring eyes fixed on me.  

"Just stay here while I remove my makeup," I said, tying all my hair up in a claw clip. 

"Okay. Don't worry," he reassured me, his voice warm. "I've got you."

It was almost 3 in the morning when we reached home. I entered the house barefoot, shrugged off my coat, and placed it on the couch before heading straight to my room.

 He entered the house after parking the car, holding my heels in his hand, and placed them near the entrance door. 

I casually threw my phone onto the mattress and positioned the pillow near the footboard on his side of the bed. I lay on my stomach, parallel to the footboard.

He entered the room behind me, and a warm smile spread across his face as he caught sight of me. He kissed my head and sat on the bed across from me. 

We started talking, and I shared gossip I'd heard at the family gathering, while he filled me in on what was happening there. Our laughter and giggles filled the room, and we lost track of time.

"Can you guess how long we've been talking?" he asked. "Without looking at the time," he added. 

"I don't know. How long has it been?" I asked. 

"Two hours. It's been two hours," he said with a smile. 

"Seriously!" I exclaimed, my eyes widening in wonder, and my lips curling into a sweet smile as I blushed. 

He nodded and said, "These two hours could turn into three, four, or five. I can listen to you all day long."

"Sometimes I talk a lot, and then I realize I'm talking too much, so I try to refrain myself," I said. 

"Never do that in front of me. You can talk to me about anything, anywhere, anytime",he said.

"Even if I'm not around, I'm just a call away. I'll listen to you," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. 

"Okay," I replied, looking out the window.

The sky was starting to dawn, and the light was peeking through the windows. The cool breeze was blowing, the leaves were rustling in the wind, and the chirping of the birds filled the atmosphere. 

"It's so peaceful, isn't it?" I said. "You know, I love this peace," I added. 

"I know," he said, his voice calm and gentle.

"Okay, do one thing. Lie back and close your eyes," he said, kneeling on the ground near the bed. 

"While your eyes are closed, listen to the rustling of the wind through the leaves and the chirping of the birds, and then tell me how you feel", he added.

"Okay," I said with excitement, and he brought his cheek close to my temple.

"Breathe in," he whispered, his voice calm and gentle. 

"Breathe out." 

"Breathe in", his voice barely above the whisper.

"Breathe out." 

"Breathe in." 

"Breathe out." 

"I could fall asleep in this peace," I said, bursting into giggles and turning my face to the opposite direction.

"Despite the fact that I've been sleeping for hours on our way home," I added.

        A warm smile spread across his face, and he kissed my hair, and then placed his pillow parallel to mine and lay beside me, sliding his arm around my waist and pulling me close. My forehead rested against his cheek, and my hand was on his chest.

  

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 shoe niche? 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 diva 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.

At the clinic*

The exam room was cool and quiet. My eyes were fixed on the monitor while cold, water-based gel pooled on my lower abdomen. The doctor glided the transducer over my skin — slick, clinical, a little too cold — and the grainy image sharpened into a flicker. A heartbeat. 

A smile broke across my face before I could stop it. My eyes went bright. Right there, on the screen: small, moving, real. 

The doctor smiled and started giving instructions, but all I could think was: Mustafa.

_He deserves to be here. He deserves to witness this. I did him wrong,_ I thought, and my throat went tight.

Then, I turned my attention back to the doctor as she wiped the gel off with rough paper towels. I took the reports — crisp paper, warm from the printer — and walked out of the room. My mind was loud with only one name: Mustafa.

In the restroom, I set the file and my wallet on the counter beside the basin. I looked up at myself in the mirror, then my gaze dropped to my abdomen under the blouse, and then fixed on to the file beside the basin. 

I washed my hands. I grabbed tissues, the rough paper scraping my skin as I dried them.

_How could I do this to him! How could I steal this moment from him? When on earth he didn't understand me... I have to tell him. That's enough. I'm going to tell him tonight at dinner,_ I thought. I crumpled the tissue and tossed it in the bin. 

My hands were shaking a little as I pulled out my phone and tapped to order the tiniest pair of baby socks for urgent delivery. Cotton, probably white. I could picture them already. I grabbed my file, pushed the door open, and walked out of the clinic into the afternoon light, heading home.

"You came early?" I said as I stepped out of the car.  

"Yeah, I missed you, so I came early to be with you," he replied as I closed the car door. A blush appeared on my face despite me trying to control my smile, but I couldn’t.  

"Where have you been?" he asked as I walked toward him, the cool breeze brushing against me.  

"I had some errands to run..." I replied as I stood in front of him.  

"Wait a minute. You look pale! Are you alright?" he asked, placing his hands against my cheeks while his thumbs skimming under my eyes.

"I'm fine, don't worry," I lied softly. I caught his wrists, pulled his hands away, and slipped past him toward the house.

"But you don't look fine," he said as he walked in and closed the entrance door behind him.

I stopped at the couch and gripped the backrest. He followed, standing close enough that I could smell him — cedar soap and something warm, familiar. I reached for his hands. His fingers closed around mine, his thumb moving slow against my knuckles, back and forth.

"Do you love me?" I asked as I looked up at him.  

"Of course, I love you... more than anything. What did I do to make you ask that?" he asked, his voice low and worried.

"No, no, it's not like that... You're a good person..." I said, and I pressed myself against his chest. My lips pressed against his shoulder, my eyes teared up, and then I turned my face to the curve of his neck and closed my eyes, inhaling his scent. His grip around me tightened.  

"What happened? Why you're upset!" he asked, concern palpable on his face as he brushed a kiss on my shoulder.  

"Uh-huh..." I replied, still pressing myself against him.  

"How would I know if you won't tell me! Say something," Mustafa said. His voice worried, while his hands were still gentle on mine.

"There's nothing to worry about. Can I just stay in your arms like this..." I whispered as I pulled back, just enough to see his face, while still being in his arms.

"Of course. I came early to spend some time with you. Whatever you say," he murmured, and pressed a soft kiss to my hair. It smelled faintly of shampoo and him. 

He laced his fingers through mine — his palm was warm, a little rough — and led me to the couch. The cushions sighed under our weight as he sat and opened his arms. I slid in beside him, tucked my head under his chin, and closed my eyes. His shirt was soft against my cheek, and his scent — filled my lungs. untangling the knot in my chest.

________________________________________

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.