Qubool Hai (MeeraSim FF)

69 - Epilouge

Meerab, after finishing her Court duty, strolled inwards knowing that time ticked on. The haveli's homley walls welcomed her but the space lacked its usual residents. The white Khaani shawl was discarded in their personal living room's sofa and her handbag plonked onto the side table as she entered her bedroom. ''Murtasim, tiyaar ho gye ho?'' Meerab's careful voice rang through the bedroom, thinking that her little family would be dressed and fed and waiting for her. (Murtasim, are you ready?)

Instead, the sight she was greeted with was far too cosy for a weekday afternoon, tumbling snores filling the tranquil room. Her footsteps became lighter, the short heels discarded as she entered a calm retreat.

Despite wanting to be mad at the tardiness, her heart squeezed madly, watching as Murtasim slept with a baby to each side. The blanket had rolled down from all the shuffling, the navy silk contrasting the golden tan of his skin. Their little girl had her head rest on his bicep, facing outwards, her bottom in the air, somehow on her knees while purring with every exhale. Meerab marvelled at her little finger spead over his arm, the stark contrast of their size, her innocent softness against his rigid frame made her enter a sweet trance. The babygrow rippled over her little arms from being so controted, forming heart-melting crinckles.

Under Meerab's swooning gaze, the baby doll bristled and even in his sleep, Murtasim's arm curled around her as to instinctively keep Mehek close.

And then even more clingy, their boy, with a comforter nuzzled beneath his chin, rolled into Murtasim's other shoulder. He covered the bullet wound taken in her name. Mirzaan's mop of curls, falling errantly, forced Meerab's hand to come out and brush them back as if to not disturb his precious sleep.

Without intenting to, Meerab's own hair splayed. She leaned forward, or perhaps it was her signature perfume that meandered around him enticingly. Even in his sleep it was recognised, and he ruffled. Then, Murtasim blinked, inhaling sharply at he became concious of daylight warring on.

Meerab perched on the corner of the bed, next to their girl that yawned in her sleep and squint at the extra presence — she appeared angellic in white. ''Jaldi ghar aa gye ho?'' His thick, sleep laden voice asked. (You're home early?)

Meerab sighed, heartbeat slowing from the cosiness they emanated. ''Nahi. I'm on schedule Murtu.'' (No.)

Bells failed to sound and Murtasim's eyes closed, the two familiar weights holding him hostage to sleep.

Meerab delicately queried whilst leaning to kiss Mehek, ''Itne neend kyun aa rahe hai?'' Her hands ran up Murtasim's rougher forearm that held their babies up, the touch a promise of home and togetherness. (Why are you so sleepy?)

''I had so many meeting, aur phir panchayat ke masale se masroof raha. Ghar aane pe Maa ne kahan ke yeh sou nahi rahe.'' Murtasim looked up again, grateful as their babies cooed and mumbled mid sleep as their parents watched with admiration, every sight as marvellous and stilling as the first. ''They cried for an hour, issi liye main saath layt gya,'' Murtasim shared in defeat, the feudal lord rendered to lulling his two precious children two sleep when no one else would suffice. (I had meetings and then the panchaayat called me. When I came home, Maa Begum told me that they're not napping. They had been crying, that's why I just got into bed with them.)

A grumble of concern rattled in Meerab's throat, guilt easily roused, her dupatta pulled off. ''They cried so much? Mujhe phone kar lete?'' Meerab whispered and Murtasim's hand, the one wedged under the baby girl, came to squeeze Meerab's hand. (You should have called to tell me.)

''They were over tired, bimaar nahi the jo tum bhe pareshaan ho. I know you had a trial going on,'' he assured sleepily, smiling at her until her features unfurled. (They're not sick that you needed to worry.)