meerasim x meesam: oneshots 🫶🏼

Touch Of Love

Meerab stood in their cozy kitchen, bathed in the soft afternoon sunlight that filtered through the curtains. Her hair was pulled into a loose low bun, with wisps of her hair falling out and grazing her face.

The kitchen was painted in warm earthy tones, with hand-painted tiles adorning the walls. The scent of spices lingered in the air, a testament to the many delicious meals cooked in this very room.

Little Meesam sat in her high chair, her curious eyes following her mother's every move. Meerab knew that keeping her occupied while she cooked was essential, so she handed her a cookie. Meesam gleefully accepted the sweet treat and began nibbling on it, her eyes sparkling with delight.

As Meerab worked on the stove, she made sure that Meesam was safely positioned away from the cooking area. The stove crackled to life as she placed the pot on the fire. Meanwhile, Meerab deftly measured rice and put it in a bowl, walking over to the sink and rinsing it until the water ran clear.

She  hummed softly as she carefully chopped the almonds and pistachios, creating a rhythmic melody with the knife against the cutting board. She glanced over at little Meesam, who was happily gnawing on her cookie, her innocent giggles filling the air.

With the pot heated up, Meerab added milk and let it boil before adding in the rice.  She glanced over at Meesam, her face smeared with cookie crumbs that Meerab had given her to keep her occupied. "Meesam ko biscuit acha laga?" She asked with a playful lilt. Meesam shook her head yes  and continued gnawing on the cookie, her chubby little hands holding it tightly.

Meerab turned back to the stove and added the rice to the pot. She was just about to add some cardamoms pods and cinnamon sticks , when Murtasim entered the kitchen, his voice breaking her concentration. "Meerab" called out murtasim.

Meerab turned towards him, her hand momentarily brushing the pot. She winced as her skin touched the hot surface. Tears welled up in her eyes as she covered her burnt hand. Murtasim rushed over, his concern evident. "Meerab yaar, ye kya kar liya,  dikhao!" he exclaimed.

He walked towards the stove and switched the knob off. Gently pulling her by the arm, he guided her to the sink and ran her burnt hand under cool water. He scolded her gently, "Tum kitchen mein kyun thi? Dekho kitni buri Tarah se haath jal gaya hai!"

Meerab, her voice soft with pain, replied, "kheer bana rahi thi, thume aur meesam ko bohat pasand hai na."

Murtasim sighed and said, "ghar mulazimo se bhara hua hai. Tumne kisi se keh diya hota, koi aur kar leta."

Meerab shook her head and replied, "Nahi, main Khud banana chahti thi, socha tha ke tumhe kitna acha lagega. Aur tum... tum mujhe kyun daant rahe ho, mera haath jal gaya hai aur upar se tum baatein suna rahe ho..."

Murtasim sighed, guilt washing over him. "I'm sorry," he said, realizing he had overreacted. Meerab's pout tugged at his heartstrings. "It's okay."

Gently, Murtasim guided Meerab to the kitchen counter, fetched ointment and gauze from the cabinet, and gestured for her to sit on a stool. She complied, sitting right next to Meesam's high chair.

Meerab winced as he applied the ointment to her burn, and Murtasim gently blew on it to ease the pain. "Zyada dard ho raha hai?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

"Nahi" said meerab, tears still glistening in her eyes. Murtasim was wrapping her hand carefully to protect the burn when he noticed the unshed tears. He kissed her forehead and reassured her, "dawa laga di hai na ab Jaldi theek ho jayega."

He knew that meerab didn't like to seem "weak" in front of others, but as a husband it was his duty to notice everything, even the things that went unsaid.