"He was contemplation and enthusiasm. Ambition and strong coffee. I could have looked at him forever."
― E. Lockhart,
"I don't own you, you just belong to me."
― Pushpa Rana
Meerab looked at her husband in wonder. So far, he had consumed three plates of golgappas, two bowls of phirni and was currently on his fourth kulfi. She could only manage one and a half plates of golgappas, had skipped phirni, and was still working on her first Kulfi. The guards kept their distance and enjoyed the food like their Khan. Khan Sahab had already discarded his suit jacket in the car along with his tie. The first few buttons of his shirt were open, and he had rolled his sleeves in anticipation when the first plate of golgappas was served. Khan Sahab had insisted on feeding her golgappas. He did not care that they were in a busy bazaar, and people were starting to recognize him. She was hesitant and shy. It was not appropriate behavior for their Khaani.
When she voiced her concerns to him, his response still echoed through her. "You are my begum, and I am your mureed. I did not plan for you. This universe blessed me with you and made me the luckiest man on this planet. I am Khan Murtasim Khan, and the world should know I am my Begum's slave. I am a proud Zanmureed, Begum." How could she refuse him after that? With crimson cheeks and hooded eyes, she let him feed her. His face had brightened as if she had given him the world. He had then dragged her to a bangle vendor. She had complained that he had given her so many bangles that she was running out of space. He simply said, "You can never have enough choodiyan, Begum. The music they create in your wrists is the song of my love."
Khan Sahab was carefree, laughing with vendors and joking with other couples around them. Meerab's heart was content seeing him so relaxed with people. He was accepting the people of this city slowly. Today Hydrebad got a glimpse of Murtasim Khan, the man, and her Khan Sahab made an effort to learn about his people, all while romancing his wife. He seemed more approachable to them, one of them, theirs. As Meerab took another bite of her Kulfi, a little remained on her bottom lip. Before she could clean it with the tissue in her hand, Khan Sahab rubbed it off with his thumb and licked it off.
Bending his head to her, he whispered, "You are so lucky we are in the middle of the bazaar. Otherwise, I would have kissed the kulfi off your lips begum—first hot chocolate and now kulfi. Behkawe mere yaar ke." His cool breath on her neck and amorous words sent shivers through her body. Just then, a vendor offered him tandoori chai, bringing Meerab back to her senses as Khan Sahab agreed. "You just had four Kulfis. You have hot chai on top that you will get sick, Khan Sahab," Meerab reprimanded lovingly as her husband smiled through his eyes at her. "The rumor is that my wife is learning to be a doctor," Murtasim said flirtatiously. "If I get sick, Begum, I will let you practice on me," winking mischievously as her he accepted the tandoori chai.
The following day Murtasim and Meerab Khan were headlining all the morning shows in the country. The picture of Murtasim Khan feeding his beautiful wife was all over traditional and social media. Everyone adored this lovely couple. To ward off the evil eyes, Mashallahs were said every time they admired the love in Murtasim Khan's eyes. Murtasim was more desirable now that he was clearly off the market. As women worldwide were gushing over him, their heartthrob Murtasim Khan was lying sick in his bed, as predicted by his wife.
Murtasim, in his night kurta pajama, looked through the house to look for his wife. His voice hoarse as he called out for his wife with a sore throat. The Haveli was uncharacteristically quiet. Meerab and the twins were off for two weeks after their midterms. He was looking forward to having all of his wife's attention for himself for the next two weeks. One of the staff members told him that Badi Amma, his wife, Junaid, and Heer had gone to Dargah early morning to pray for Heer's safe delivery. His wife, anticipating his condition, had already made him soup and brewed herbal tea when he woke up. When the staff offered to serve it to him, Murtasim refused.
Murtasim was sick and irritated. He wanted his begum, the jingle of her bangles, and her soothing scent of jasmine and lilies. Nothing would make him feel better until his eyes could take a fill of her. So he freshened up and went to the family room where Agha Ji and the twins played Wii tennis. He had volunteered to be her patient, but his doctor was nowhere to be seen. Murtasim opened his laptop and got to work as the hum of his family soothed his burning soul a little.
"I do not recommend that Mamu, you should have the soup Choti Amma made for you," Azan commented when Murtasim declined to be served breakfast after much insistence from the staff. "Choti Amma is very strict about health. Ask Agha Ji." Azan explained further.
"Have the soup Murtasim. It will make you feel better." Agha Ji tried to persuade his grandson, "Your wife is intolerant to bad behavior. I once refused to take the medication after the bullet incident. She was very displeased with me. First, she lectured and did not talk to me for an entire day," Agha Ji warned his grandson, "You think you can handle her silence?"
Murtasim looked at Ayat, "You have no comments to make?"
"Oh! Please do not have that soup. I want you to get in trouble," Ayat said dramatically. "You went and had golgappas without us. You deserve the sore throat and Choti Amma's wrath for risking your health."
"Meerab was there too. I wasn't the only one having golgappas." Murstasim defended himself. "Your double standards are amazing."
"Please, Mamu, our Choti Amma is too sweet to exclude us. She loves was way too much," Azan jumped into the conversation, "This was all your doing. She made us our favorite pancakes and brownies this morning before we could even complain."
"You were careless, and you have stressed us out, Mamu. Do you know how worried Choti Amma was for you this morning? She was so stressed that she did not even have breakfast." Ayat informed him. "We are considering going to the mountains to relax after the midterms. Keep this attitude up; she might get angry enough to leave you here. It would serve you right."
Murtasim slammed his laptop shut. His day just became bad to worse. Trips were being planned, and no one had made him aware. Fear grappled his heart. He felt uneasy and overstrung. "Why had no one told me anything about this trip?"
"Because Choti Amma is in charge. You will do what she says anyways," Azan said matter of factly, "Ayat is proper, though. Keep being idiotic, and she just might leave you here, and we can have her undivided attention just like before."
Before he could say something, the current in the air changed, and Murtasim turned to see his wife standing at the door. She seemed to have witnessed the last bit of the conversation. One look from her and Murtasim felt his world returned to its axis. Then he remembered he was upset with her, so he grabbed his laptop and stormed towards his bedroom.
It was another hour before Meerab could make it to their room. Ayat was worried about her Mamu. Niece and uncle were constantly at each other's throats, yet their love was immense. They were both possessive and territorial, so they butted heads the most. Ayat was a pro at giving Murtasima a taste of his own medicine. Meerab today was on Ayat's team. Khan Sahab was being unreasonable. So when she entered the room, she saw her husband sitting on the sofa surfing tv channels.
As she placed the tray with a bowl of soup and herbal tea in front of him, her husband looked at her with accusation. But he was not the only irritated person in the room. He had not eaten anything since morning. She expected better from him. He was being careless with his health. His attitude could have been more impressive. She loved this sulky man to bits that did not mean she would let him get away with a bad mood.
"Have some soup, Khan Sahab." Meerab gathered her patience and urged her husband to eat, "It will make you feel better.
"No," Murtasim responded curtly. She was dressed in his favorite yellow color salwar suit. Eyes bright, cheeks flushed, his sunshine was finally here.
"Khan Sahab, you already have a sore throat. If you don't nourish yourself, it will escalate to fever," Meerab explained and lovingly extended a spoonful to feed her husband.
"I don't like soup, and I don't like herbal tea. Coffee and eggs that is what I want." Murtasim demanded. A wave of emotion hit him as his wife's eyes flared up in anger though she did not express it. "You were not here when I woke up. You are making plans to go to the mountains. Why should anyone inform me? Let me know where you guys are going. I will arrange the tickets."
Her husband had stressed Ayat, worried Badi Amma, and harassed the staff just because he did not get what he wanted. He had risked his health and was behaving like a spoiled brat. His accusations were foolish but not unwarranted. She understood his fear of losing his loved ones and being left out of the family, but that did not mean he could distrust her love. So angered, Meerab raised her voice to restart her husband's overthinking, "Muratsim, enough! Have the soup quietly, and we will talk after."
Murtasim's head whipped towards his wife. He closed the distance between them instantly and drew his wife closer. His name on her lips was the most beautiful sound in the world. He could hear it say it again and again and never get tired of it. His name on her lips felt like someone had cut his chains and set him free. Exhilarated, he demanded, "Again, say my name again."
The mood in the room had changed the second she said her husband's name in irritation. His eyes glinted passionately as he swept her up in his powerful arms. Meerab trembled under the intensity of her husband's gaze as he demanded she repeat his name. Electricity rushed through her body. Nervously she bit her lip. Holding his gaze, Meerab whispered, "Murtasim."
She was in his lap. Her scent was engulfing his senses. She said his name again, and he felt cherished. His large hands framed her face, one thumb caressing her cheek Murtasim poured his heart, "You are my light, my anchor, my angel Meerab," His eyes held hers captive as he traced her collarbone, "You are my addiction and my cure. Meerab, you have converted me, given me hope. You are my direction, my journey, and my destination. Khayal Rakhna Meerab, I will cease to exist with you." Murtasim lovingly rubbed his nose against hers, "I love you, Meerab Khan. With every cell of my being, I love you." He then captured her lips in his.
Murtasim took his time, teasing her lips with his. He enjoyed the softness of her lips against his. Not in a rush, he took his time learning the shape of her lips as one hand cupped the back of her head for support. She was soft against his hard chest as her hands flew to his shoulders for support. A whimper left her lips, giving him access, and he twinned his tongue with hers. She tasted so sweet. All the darkness of his world vanished. Murtasim felt her tremble under his hands. He marveled at the fact that only he could do that. She was fire underneath his hands. Intoxicated and wanting more, he deepened the kiss.
Meerab was melting under her husband's touch. Her body was on fire. The kiss was now more passionate. She felt lost in her husband's embrace. She gasped as his tongue suckled her, their tastes mixed—the roughness of his chin against her shot currents through her body. A crave-able tension wound inside her. Feeling uncertain, Meerab let Khan Sahab take the lead as she learned the pleasures a man can give a woman from her husband. Desire filled her as she whispered his name on a whimper, "Murtasim." Then he slowed down the pace and gently broke the kiss. His expression was worshipful as her husband touched his forehead to hers as they both tried to catch their breath.
"My temptation," Murtasim whispered as he trailed kisses along her collarbone, "Two more months until you graduate. These will be the longest two months of my life, my dear begum." Before Meerab could respond, there was a knock on the door announcing that the interior designer was here for Meerab Manzil. Murtasim reluctantly let his wife go. He said as she reached the door, "I will finish the soup, don't worry, begum."
Later that night, Murtasim lay on the sofa of their bedroom with his head in his wife's lap. She was gently running her fingers through his hair. The rhythm of her fingers lulled him to relax, "I had already cleared your schedule with Samia, Khan Sahab." Meerab said. Eight years of trauma could not be healed in a day. "No one is leaving you behind. There is no way we would go without you. I know you were not angry that I made plans to go with the twins and family. It was your fear of being left behind. This family loves you. Their world revolves around you, Khan Sahab."
Her words were like a balm to Murtasim's soul. She understood his fears, and he did not even have to speak. He silently thanked god for her and teasingly said, "Do I have to make you mad again to say my name, though I prefer it when you whimper it in desire?"
Mereeab turned crimson head to toe but smacked her husband on his arm, "Murtasim is reserved for when you are extra adorable, Khan Sahab." Meerab declared and then appeased her husband's fears, "Our world revolves around you. You have been working non stop past months, so the twins wanted to take you on a trip where you could relax. Badi Amma was also worried that Khan's duties were taking a toll on you. They just got you back, Khan Sahab. They are just trying to keep you by loving me more than you."
"What about you, Begum?" Murtasim asked though he already knew the answer as he sat up. One hand played with her bangles and the other with the strands of her hair. He just wanted to hear it from her. His heart danced every time she expressed her love.
"My identity comes from you, Khan Sahab," Meerab said, cupping one of his cheeks in her hand. She placed her other hand on his heart, "It is your heart, but the heartbeat is mine. I have loved you since you offered me your hand on our first meeting and wrapped me in your chaddar."
Murastim covered her hand over his heart, "I will fight god for you, Meerab. Allah gave you to me, but he had no right to take you away. If he even tries, I will burn his beloved world down."
A/N- My readers are the best, and I love you all so much! I am very grateful to you all for all the strength that you have given me. There are a few special shout-outs to give today- Thank you, Zenu, Guglu and Noor. I would have never started this story without you. Thank you for being there every time I panic before posting a chapter. You guys are the best of me.
When I say that your comments keep me going, I mean it. I was so lost and had no motivation to write today, but then Shijuana2020 and Ivystarflower left those beautiful comments and motivated I think I have written one of the most extended chapters so far. Your timing today was impeccable cos since then, I had not written a single word.
Please let me know how you all liked the chapter in the comments, and thank you so much, all my readers, for being my strength.
Love,
Blues