Dhaagey: The Ties that Bind Us

33. itty bitty

A/N: Hi! Thank you to everyone for all the warm wishes in the last chapter - I gave birth to a healthy and adorable baby girl who is 21 days old today! I am slowly getting back into things so here's the next chapter of Dhaagey. ------------------------------------

Murtasim turned his room into a makeshift office, rearranging the furniture to create a comfortable workspace. He dragged the blue chaise lounge from its usual spot by his bed and positioned it near the doors that opened up to the yard, which he threw wide open, inviting in the fresh night air. The table, adorned with stacks of papers and a laptop, was pushed closer to the chaise, forming his designated workspace.

Taking a moment to settle in, Murtasim reached into his pocket and retrieved a cigarette. He had developed a habit of smoking while working, finding that it helped him focus and gather his thoughts. The act of inhaling the smoke and exhaling slowly provided him with a brief respite from the chaos of his mind – now usually filled with thoughts of Meerab - allowing him to delve into his work with a sense of calm and clarity.

With a flick of his lighter, the end of the cigarette glowed, casting a warm orange light. Murtasim took a long drag, savoring the familiar taste and the soothing sensation it brought. For him, smoking was more than just a physical act; it held a certain ritualistic quality that had provided a brief escape from the stresses of his daily life. Yet he had found himself smoking less and less since Meerab's return which had made him feel lighter than he had in years.

As he exhaled a plume of smoke, ensuring that he blew towards the outside of the room, Murtasim glanced at the scattered papers on the table. He had a backlog of pending work that needed his attention. Frequent absences upon Meerab's return, their wedding, and his recent propensity, and allowance of, spending time with his wife at every opportunity had caused the workload to accumulate, creating an ever-growing mountain of tasks that demanded completion even with Meerab's help.

Tonight, however, he was determined to tackle the pending work – mostly because his attempts to sneak into Meerab's room that night had been thwarted. It seemed that now when he had allowed himself to take more liberties with his wife, the world had started to plot to keep them away. With the Shahs returning to Lahore, and Rumi returning to Karachi, the house was quieter than usual, which meant that his mother was not as distracted.

He had almost wanted all of them to stay despite the teasing. They all had a bet going for when his mother would catch him and Meerab in a compromising position and send her off to Lahore. Of all of them, only Armaan was of the belief that they wouldn't get caught...he wondered if the man was just being naïve, even he didn't believe that.

Murtasim took another drag, letting the smoke curl around his fingers, shaking his head and focusing his attention on the task at hand. With determination in his eyes, he delved into reading through the piles of documents that needed his attention and signature.

Just when Murtasim had gotten in the flow, knocking three folders off his pile of work, a series of urgent knocks echoed through his room, catching his attention. Knock-knock. Pause. Knock-knock. Meerab's distinct knock rang in his ears. His brow furrowed in curiosity, his thoughts swirling with possibilities. His gaze darted towards the clock, noting the lateness of the night.

He placed the cigarette in the ashtray. Quickly, he made his way to the door, his mind filled with concern that she would be seen. He swung open the door, coming face to face with his Meerab, her face radiant with delight as she slipped through the narrow opening that he had allowed.

"Meerab." He cautioned, his voice laced with warning as he closed the door behind her. She leaned back against it for support as she looked up at him. His heart thudded in his chest, acutely aware of the temptation and intimacy of having her in his room, alone, at this late hour. Even though it was exactly where she was meant to be.