Ittefaq Say (MeeraSim FF)

27 - Wirsa

''Aik dua iski neend kay liye bhi kar leti,'' Marium joked, her head titling to her husband that seemed like he had seen better days. His hair way unstyled, and he seemed more depleted of sleep than his wife. (You should have asked for some sleep for him.)

''Soya hun. Sofa bahut comfortable hai,'' Naurez retorted, his voice hoarse with a tiredness that betrayed him. (I have slept. The comfortable is very comfortable.)

''Haan comfortable lagta hai,'' Murtasim repeated, his hand pushing down unto the stiff foam of a cushion. The confusion in tone suggested that he clearly did not believe the lie. (Yeah, it seems comfortable.)

''Tujhe kya pata, khabi soya hai sofa pe?'' Naurez questioned rhetorically, supposed that Murtasim had never faced such a discomfort- the need to sleep on a sofa had never presented itself. He was a wealthy bachelor, with excessive spare rooms in his house, and any hotel of his choosing within reach when he travelled. (What do you know, have you ever slept on a sofa?)

In that moment, Mai and Murtasim's gaze met for a split second, the predicament of being caught in Meerab's rooms passed between them, conveyed in a single skeptical glance. The entire star-studded night had been spent in privacy Meerab's room, mere meters from her, and then he had been caught red-handed.

Even more recently, Mai had seen the extent of his worry at the possibility of her leaving- a whirlwind had wrecked his reasoning and logic. Now she recognised that Murtasim loved her wholeheartedly. It was just a fact that they had silently fused to one another without notice, an unbidden alliance had melded them into a couple that couldn't not even bare the probability of separation.

The understanding glint in Mai's eye meant that Murtasim had to inform his mother first, to keep everything under control.

''Nahi na? Shaadi ke baad tumhein pata chalega,'' he chortled to himself, and Mariyum blushed at the mention of him being banished from their bed. (No? When you get married, then you'll find out.)

The room eruputed into an array of giggles, Noori's bubbly laugh winning over the crowd in its infectiousness. Naurez scowled at her playfully, which set her off even more, not a single care for the babies delicate sleep.

''Main pakad lun?'' Murtasim requested in a tender voice, careful to not disturb the new baby. (Can I hold the baby.)

Naurez gave a short nod, and gently transferred the new born baby into Murtasim's forearms which expertly came to cradle the baby, a hand to support its delicate head, the other hand beneath the rest of the body.

''Mashallah,'' he whispered so lightly that it was barely audible, in a trance of investigating the baby as if it was the first time. He had grown in a day, the creamy colour of his skin had deepened into an opacity that looked healthy. The hairs on his head were sparse, straight and as soft as fur.

The tiny button of the baby's chin wobbled as if the cold caught on his head, snagging at tip of his nose, and on his sensitive, velvety cheeks. ''Lagta hai ke baby ko thand lg rhi hai. Iske tope nahi hai?'' He asked in a tone of concern. (It seem's like the baby is cold. Do you have a hat?)

Mariyum's gaze darted over to the empty bassinet, and Naurez attempted to place the knitted hat onto the baby, but his little head was closer to Meerab.

Her hand came out, ''Main pehna deti hun,'' she said, her open palm coming to request the hat. (I'll place it on him.)

Murtasim's moved his hand the support the baby from the base of his head, and Meerab's fingertips carefully slipped the hat onto his small head, sheathing the hairs and protecting against the chill. It was another moment of teamwork, reverting into a rhythm of complimenting the other person.