Ittefaq Say (MeeraSim FF)

23 - Sosan

She froze, breath hitched from the warmth he breathed upon her, at the unbidden proximity.

He pressed a singular kiss to her cheek, the corner of his moustache, nicking her delicate skin. 'Tum say,' he whispered tenderly onto her skin. (With you.)

Her heart raced, pattering in her chest.

Then he stood up straight, tall infront of her, unshying from the bashness of his affection. 'Picture banana aik bahana hai. Maqsad tum ho,' he confessed candidly in a hushed tone, there was a mischievous edge to his voice. (Taking the pictures is just an excuse, the real target is you.)

Her eyes widened at the inappropriateness of his action, brazenly sharing his ulterior motive with the plethora of shrubs and wildflowers and bees to bare witness to the confession. 'Besharam,' she muttered in a coy giggle. (Shameless.)

That elicited a boyish smirk to grace his face, carrying pride at the scarlet flush of her cheek in response. 'Main?,' he scoffed in a flirty manner. 'Sharam he hai ke yeh baat zubaan pe nahi aah paaye ab tak.' He wished to spend his efforts in her praise, fittingly etching her into film, to study the proportions of her divine visage, to fill an entire museum with the glorious findings. (Me? It was shame only which didn't let me say these words aloud yet.)

She looked elsewhere in an aim to dull the intensity of the moment, happiness bubbling at her throat at hearing of his uncontainable affections.

'Idhar dekho,' he instructed, his voice soft but the with slightest edge of assertiveness. (Look here.)

She shook her head shyly and instead, she chose to do what she did best...escape. She pivoted, stepping sideways, welcomed by the scene of endless lush tress.

Murtasim did what he did best... kept her close. Before she could take a second step, he grabbed the target. 'Kahan ja rahe ho?' She felt his calloused hand clasp her tiny wrist, each finger resting on her with full authority and she audibly gasped when he pulled her closer, tugging her till they were flush. (Where are you going?)

Gasp. That caused her to open her eyes in shock, blinking to see her dim bedroom, enshrouded in the morning calmness. She panted, bewildered at her immodest mind which dared to wander in the realm of blissful fantasies.

What was more shocking was the vision of Murtasim sleeping on the sofa in the corner of her bedroom. He was still here- her peace. Looking rather uncomfortable, he slouched on the one seater sofa, soft rumbles leaving him. His neck was slumped, his hair floppy and cosy against his forehead.

She felt an ounce of guilt as the moments of last night rushed through her memory, the display of vulnerability caused her to cringe at herself- she must have seemed weak, vulnerable- it was only a momentary lapse of courage.

Then her mouth hung at the audacious of her mind to create such a daring sweetheart version of Murtasim in her dream, leaning to kiss her, to clasp her wrist as if he had every right.

She should have woken him up for the sake of an achy neck, ushered him away before anyone noticed him hiding away in the secrecy her room. But he looked too scerene, and she wasn't ready to face him after the reels of film which played in her mind. He had the softest dusting of blush to his cheeks, his thick arms crossed over his stomach for comfort as he dozed- her dreamcatcher.

Carefully, Meerab got up, tiptoeing to approach him on the sofa. One hand came to either side of his balmy temple, straightening him. In a triumph victory, he let out a strong clear exhale, the wide of his flat chest began raising and falling in a unhindered gentle rhythm.

There was nothing more to do at this still hour, so she sat back in bed and watched the man in an an unusual habitat- her room. Murtasim had laid down his resources for her use, paved a path for her into his home, constructed a roof of security over her.