Azmaish-e-Ishq

Ch. 14: Wedding Bells

🎶"Beparwah hai mahi mera, puche na mera haal ve. Kisi gal da vi jawaab na deve, mere rote rahe sawaal ve. Ikk vaari dekhe, dekhe na dobaara. Tere bin karoon kaise main guzaara? Ke mahi mera dil tod da.

My beloved doesn't care, she doesn't ask about my condition. She doesn't answer anything, my questions continue to cry. She looks at me once, and she doesn't look again. How can I live without you? My beloved breaks my heart."🎶

- Mahi Mera Dil | Kumaar | Arijit Singh & Tulsi Kumar

Heer's P.O.V.

Kamran pulled away and cleared his throat, his voice low, "It's just been a lot because of work."

I bit my lower lip, unsure of what to say. He knew I didn't approve of drinking.

He went to the counter and placed the bottle into the drinks cabinet before putting the glass into the sink. "Sorry about that."

I wrapped my arms around his torso from behind him, resting my cheek against his back, "No more, aşkım. There are other ways to destress. Maybe you can call me over next time, and we'll do something fun, but please don't drink again."

He turned around and pecked the crown of my head, finally bringing a smile to his lips, "I'll do that." He looked down at the small bag in my hand, "What's that?"

"It's just a little something for your office," I gave it to him.

It was a paperweight. I got it customized with his name.

"Thanks, babe. It's nice. I'll put it on my desk."

I grinned then tugged him to the sofa, sitting behind him, "Take off your shirt."

"Is this your way of helping me destress?" he teased, unbuttoning his shirt.

"Yes, but not in the way you're thinking!" I squealed. "I'm going to give you a massage."

"F*ck," I heard him curse under his breath.

"What happened?"

"Nothing, two of the buttons broke."

"That's alright, aşkım. I can sew it back on for you. Do you have a sowing kit?"

"I do," he got up and rummaged through a drawer before bringing the unopened package to me, "I never bothered using it though since I don't know how to sew."

"Well, now your soon-to-be wife can do it for you."

He chuckled, shrugging off his shirt as I pushed the white thread through the needle. He handed the grey shirt to me then informed me he was going to change into his pajamas and use the restroom. When he returned, he sat observing me as I stifled a smile.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing," I quickened my pace.

"Babe," he called in a knowing tone.

"Yes?" I giggled.

"Show me."

"Not yet."

"Do you actually know how to sew or-"

I gasped, "Of course, I do! Did you think I was lying?"

"No, but you're acting suspicious."

"Am I?"

"Yes, you are. And now you're stalling."

"Am I?"

"Yes, babe. You are."