Even though the reunion with Zain had left him feeling a bit disturbed, Murtasim knew he had better things to focus on. After Meerab had urged him to relive his dreams by gifting him the canvas and paints, Murtasim couldn't help but feel grateful to have her in his life all over again. She was everything he had ever wished for. The nights where his internal turmoil haunted him, he had prayed for a sense of direction, a way of finding his happiness back. He had given up on his dreams a long time back, but the lingering ache of his heart remained, leaving him feeling empty. But Meerab had changed everything. With her presence, Murtasim felt like he could conquer anything as long as she was with him, and that was true.
They had converted the second room in their portion into Murtasim's art room. The room was filled with the enticing aroma of oil paints and the soft, natural light that filtered through the curtains. The walls were adorned with blank canvases, patiently waiting for Murtasim to breathe life into them once again.
However, amidst this determination, Murtasim couldn't help but worry about his ability to paint. He found himself lost in a sea of creative uncertainty. His once-vibrant imagination seemed to have dulled, and the frustration of his creative block weighed heavily on his shoulders. Although he had spent time exploring various art galleries during his stay in America, but he hadn't touched a canvas in nearly 10 years, and the fear of losing his artistic prowess gnawed at him.
Every evening, he would retreat to his art room after dealing with his feudal duties with a hope to paint something but he was left disappointed. He would stare at the blank canvas, brush in hand, but his mind remained stubbornly blank. It had been weeks, and he still hadn't started anything. The disappointment he felt was palpable, and it was as if the canvas was mocking his inability to create anything.
Even now, as the blank canvas stood before him, waiting for him to breathe life into it, an echoing question persisted: had the heavy mantle of feudal responsibilities truly stifled his creative spirit? Had his father succeeded in snatching away the dreams that had once ignited his soul?
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Even though Murtasim tried his best to not make his feelings palpable, Meerab was well aware of it already. The fear of losing one's aspirations and dreams weighed heavily on her as she tried to envision herself in Murtasim's place. The thought of not being able to study law had always lingered in Meerab's life. After she had turned 15, she was convinced that she wanted to become a lawyer, but the traditional ideologies of her parents had left her in doubt. She spent countless nights thinking of ways to convince them, desperate for her dreams to come true. Thankfully, her parents were generous enough to recognize her passion and let her pursue it.
But Murtasim's case was different. He had watched his dreams turn into ashes and was forced into a life he always disliked. And yet, even after sacrificing everything, he was still subjected to Uncle Shahnawaz's irrelevant criticism. That broke Meerab's heart. Murtasim deserved the world, and she was ready to give him just that. That's why she was excited to give him his birthday present. But after seeing Murtasim lost in deep thought for almost a week now, it left Meerab feeling concerned.
She understood his dilemma as he spent hours in the art room and came back with a disappointed look on his face, indicating his inability to paint anything. So she took it upon herself to reassure Murtasim and help him fight his demons. She entered the room, her eyes filled with compassion, and walked up to her husband, who stood still like a statue.
"Murtasim," she spoke softly, breaking the silence, and gently touched his shoulder. Murtasim was startled by her voice as he turned towards Meerab, his gaze meeting hers. The emptiness and fear in his eyes were quite visible as he spoke.
"Oh Meerab, is it late? I'm sorry; I didn't realize," he said, trying to brush away his worries and force a smile.
"I know you're upset, Murtasim. You don't need to pretend that everything is okay. You can share anything with me, you know that, right?" Meerab spoke, her voice laced with concern.
"It's—it's nothing, Meerab. Don't worry," Murtasim replied, avoiding her gaze. He didn't want to appear ungrateful in front of Meerab. She had gifted him the canvas and paints with so much love, and he didn't want to make her feel like she had done everything for nothing.
"Murtasim, look at me," she began, her eyes filled with understanding. "I know you're struggling with the fear that your creative side may have been lost, but trust me, that's not the case."
"I just—it feels like I'm lost. My mind is blank, and I try so hard to paint, but I just can't. I'm dreading that I've lost my creativity, and I'm so scared of that," Murtasim said, swallowing the lump in his throat as he shared the weight of his heart with Meerab.
Meerab smiled lightly, her words carrying the warmth of her affection. "No, Murtasim, creativity is like a special spark inside you. Sometimes, it takes a little time to come back, just like a fire that's waiting for the right moment to burn again. Your inspiration will come back when you encounter something truly worth painting, something that is worthy of being captured, a sight so awe-inspiring that your heart can't resist the urge to express it on canvas. And until then, don't burden yourself. Let it come to you naturally," she said while caressing his cheek.
With Meerab's words echoing in his mind, Murtasim nodded slowly. He realized that perhaps he had been too hard on himself, expecting instant results when creativity had its own rhythm. He sighed deeply, his shoulders relaxing as he leaned into her gentle touch. "You always have a way of making me feel better, My love. I don't know what I'd do without you."
Meerab's smile widened, and she enveloped Murtasim in a comforting embrace. "You won't ever have to find out, because I'll always stand beside you, forever."
Murtasim's heart swelled with emotion at Meerab's words. "I love you," he whispered, his voice brimming with love and admiration.
"And I love you too," Meerab replied, pulling him even closer into a warm and loving embrace.
As they held each other in the dimly lit studio, Murtasim felt a renewed sense of gratitude for the remarkable woman in his life. He knew that with Meerab's unwavering support and her belief in his artistic spirit, he could weather any storm, and his creativity would eventually flow freely once again, like a river finding its course.
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As the evening grew darker and the sound of thunder rumbled outside, Murtasim and Meerab decided to make their way to their cozy bedroom. The anticipation of the impending rain filled the air with a sense of serenity.
As they entered the room, Meerab turned to Murtasim with a gentle smile. "Would you like to have some coffee Murtasim?"
"Hmm, sounds perfect," Murtasim said.
"Oh great then, I'll be right back," Meerab said as she went to the kitchen. She carefully prepared a cup of steaming coffee, knowing just how Murtasim liked it, with a touch of warmth and a hint of love. Returning to him, she handed over the cup. "Here you go, Murtasim. Try it and tell me how is it?" she asked, a playful twinkle in her eyes.
Murtasim took a sip, savoring the rich flavor. He looked up at Meerab, his eyes filled with affection. "It's really good," he replied, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.
"Well, after all, who made it?" Meerab teased lighty.
Murtasim couldn't help but smile. "Mere biwi ne," he answered, his voice filled with warmth and love, as he kissed her cheek.
Meerab blushed at his remark as they sat together in the solace of their room. A comforting silence engulfed them, and they were lost in their own thoughts. As the rumbling of thunder continued, Murtasim decided to break the silence.
"You know Meerab, I've always loved the rain," he admitted, a touch of nostalgia in his voice as he turned his attention to the darkening sky.
Meerab chuckled softly, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. "So have I. There's something magical about it, isn't there? The way it washes away the dust and brings life to everything it touches."
"There's just something bittersweet about the rain for me. It has this unique ability to evoke both joy and melancholy simultaneously. While I agree that it brings life to everything that it touches, but it also brings out the memories buried deep inside our hearts," Murtasim said.
"Yet, it also symbolizes change, doesn't it? Just like in our lives, it brings unexpected moments, both pleasant and challenging. The rain is a constant reminder of life's duality, the interplay of light and shadow, joy and sorrow," Meerab said as she shifted closer to Murtasim. Her eyes reflected a mixture of warmth and love.
"You know, Murtasim, when I first got to know that I have to marry you, I was scared. Scared of marrying into a life so different from what I had imagined. But now, looking back, I realize that the change has been a pleasant surprise. I've fallen in love with you, and that's the best thing that has happened to me."
Murtasim's eyes softened, filled with affection as he reached for her cheek. "Your love has been the most beautiful change in my life too, Meri Jaan."
Murtasim's eyes locked onto Meerab's, his affectionate gaze unwavering. Slowly, he leaned in, closing the distance between them.
Their lips met in a soft, tender kiss, a testament to the love that had blossomed amidst the changes in their lives. It was a kiss that conveyed gratitude, acceptance, and the promise of a shared journey through life's ever-changing seasons.
As they pulled away, the sound of the heavy rainfall outside caught their attention, their eyes met once more, and their smiles spoke of the love and contentment they found in each other's arms. However, a question began to form in Meerab's mind, one that had been lingering for a while. She couldn't help but be curious about it.
"Murtasim," she began, her voice soft, "have you ever danced in the rain before?"
Murtasim's brow furrowed in thought as he considered her question. "Erm, not really, I used to be very sensitive to weather changed and since I got sick easily, so Maa didn't let me out in the rain," Murtasim said.
Meerab chuckled at his response, her laughter light and playful. "Mariam was right, you really are a princess or wait, more like a drama queen," she teased, her eyes sparkling with affection as she opened the door and stepped out into the heavy rain, her navy blue dress clinging to her like a second skin.
"Hey, don't make fun of me. Just because I'm a bit sensitive doesn't make me a princess," Murtasim said as he followed Meerab, stopping at the threshold of the door.
"Well then, come on and let the rain wash away all your worries," Meerab said, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm as she let the rain drench her.
Murtasim hesitated for a moment, his apprehension of rain gnawing at him, but the sight of Meerab's radiant smile warmed his heart. As he leaned against the doorframe, he couldn't help but be captivated by her grace and beauty.
Meerab twirled gracefully in the rain, her laughter ringing through the air like a melody. Her drenched hair cascaded in loose waves around her shoulders, and droplets of rain glistened on her skin, creating an ethereal aura. The fairy lights hanging nearby cast a soft, warm glow, adding a touch of magic to the scene.
Every twirl she made seemed to synchronize with the rhythm of the rain, as if nature itself had choreographed this dance just for her. Her navy blue dress, now adorned with raindrops, flowed elegantly with each graceful movement, highlighting the contours of her body.
Murtasim couldn't take his eyes off her. The raindrops sparkled like diamonds as they clung to her lashes, and her cheeks were flushed with a rosy hue. As Meerab spun around, the raindrops seemed to create a shimmering halo around her, making her look like a goddess of the rain.
Murtasim's heart skipped a beat at the sight of Meerab, and he came to a sudden realization. "....when you encounter something truly worth painting, something that is worthy of being captured, a sight so awe-inspiring that your heart can't resist the urge to express it on canvas," As Meerab's voice played in his mind, he came to realize that his muse had always been in front of him. Who else, if not his Meerab, could be worthy of immortalization in a form of art? Her beauty was truly breathtaking, and he was willing to dedicate himself entirely to flawlessly capture this serendipitous sight before him on his canvas.
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Sorry for the late update. I've been busy trying to catch up with uni work and writing.
I hope you all enjoy this💞
Feedback is always appreciated and apologizes for any typos or errors.