Kaabil

29. Sham

Meerab

The whole ride, my two chatterbox friends ripped my ears off. Although my husband keenly listened and answered each question regarding any fucking topic they could come up with. He, too, joked and grinned multiple times when Saba roasted me.

Our conversations continued even when we stopped by the beach for late night desserts. The girls bobbed and danced to the music while ignoring Murtasim and me, giving us a warm sanctuary.

My heels dug in the sand, and my dress had tiny sand flakes on the bottom, perfectly ruining my hairstyle.

But I didn't care. I do not when my husband stands behind me, pressing his front to my back, resting his hands in the lap, while I feed him my ice cream since I finished his a long time ago.

"Meerab, dance with us!" Saba yelled from the shore near the bonfire. Indeed, many young kids were playing guitar, laughing, and drinking.

I twisted my head to look at Murtasim, who nudged his nose with mine before whispering, "Go ahead, I'll be right here."

"Come with me!" I bit my lip, fluttering my eyes.

He sighed, taking my hand in his, only to bend down and unclasp my heel strap. With one hand holding my shoes while the other wrapped around mine, he led us to where everyone else was.

"Hey man, do you have a song in your jukebox?" Murtasim shook his hand with the young man who had a guitar in his hands.

"Sure. Would you mind if I played a slow one? I've been working on it." The man's smile is so bright, which makes it harder for me not to return it. "I'm Osama."

"Murtasim." He shook his hand with Osama, pouting at me, "This is my wife," then at my Friends, "Those are our friends."

Soon, Osama played a light, romantic melody. He signaled someone in the back, and three people came running with beach chairs. "You all are dressed too fancy to sit on the sand." With a laugh, we all sat around. A young girl passed us some drinks, but Murtasim took only three sodas from her before thanking her.

I leaned back in my chair, bringing my lips closer to Murtasim, whispering, "I miss college. We used to do this every month."

He nodded, tucking a strand of loose hair behind my ear, leveling his lips to my ear. "Why don't we do this at home from now on?" I beamed. "Also, tell me more about your college."

"Hmm. There is a lot. First, Saba and Abeer don't hate each other." I pointed at my two friends, dancing with each other.

"I thought they did the way they bickered throughout the car ride."

Snickering and shaking my head, I slowly said, "It's their love language." Laughing, I continued narrating four years of college, excluding people I regretted meeting, especially after tonight's heated moment.

Osama paused his singing and requested the gathering to gather around for his next song. The couples in attendance rose from their seats and formed a circle around the bonfire. I remained seated until Murtasim locked eyes with me. He paused for a moment before extending his hand and asking, "Would you like to dance?"

I bit my lips, amused by his actions. There is one thing hypothetically saying and one thing while doing the same in real life. 'THE Murtasim KHAN was found dancing on the beach' will be headlined tomorrow. I can feel it.