MeeraSim AU. Meerab knew he didn't love her, and had no expectations of him doing so when she entered this marriage. He was a Khan and she was a Malik.
Enabled by the uncannyy friendship of Shah Nawaz Khan and Malik Waqas, it seemed that their marr...
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In a strange way, Meerab felt like she had hit home turf when they landed Heathrow Airport. A small suitcase pulled besides her as they head to baggage claim through the bustle of other passengers. The familiar rush and the faint lingering fragrance of petrichor filled the air, sighing was excitment. ''Murtasim, can you get my bag too?'' She asked whilst taking a seat.
''Of course. Pau mei dard hai?'' Murtasim asked, finally untying their hands, the cooler air gracing her flesh instead of his cosy, protective warmth that was always close by. (Are your feet hurting?)
Meerab nod weakly, the bun in her hair loosening to rest by her nape, the slightest fuschi flush pinching her cheeks. The long flight meant her feet had swollen and the nausea and ear popping from the flight didn't help either, tiring her out beyond the uncomfortableness from the two babies she carried. ''A little,'' she reply in a lilt that was sullen, unable to hide the burdening limp, the words accompanied by wince.
''Beht jau, meri jaan,'' he kissed into her hair that emanated her familiar scent, watching as the bags took their turn around the winding conveyor belt. By this point, the classic grey blazer had been discarded, lugged around by Meerab whilst he went to fetch the heavy bags, all of which Meerab had stuffed full and he didn't dare complain about; the man had quickly leant not to argue, realising she had a tendency to win out of the two of them. (Sit down, my darling.)
A name card with 'Khan' awaited them as they exit the building. The crisp atmosphere was cleansing, mixing into the rush of people that scattered outwards. It led to cute black cab that whisked them away through the busy streets of London— the place his wife had stayed to study whilst he wait patiently, silently without asking for praise or acknowledgement. The streets were lined in slate grey brickworks of architectural masterpieces, mixed with shabby shops and pedestrians that failed to comply with roadsigns. The organic hued mess broken up by the bright cherry red busses; London smiled back at them.
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Arriving at the hotel's sophisticated entertance, a staunch man stood in uniform to welcome them. ''Good Afternoon, welcome to Claridges, Sir, Madam.'' The spring air was breezy, the sun peaking was the clouds to sneak a glance at the pair.
