Unveiling Meerab [Tere Bin FF]

36. the first trimester

A/N: Thank you so much for all the love for the last chapter! Reading through your comments was so much fun because of the collective breakdown we were all having. I am glad y'all liked the chapter that much! Onto the next one, it's very cute also, so tissues and ice-cream is recommended, hehe. 

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Meerab couldn't believe how drastically her palate had shifted. Foods that once made her mouth water now sent her rushing to the nearest bathroom. It was a peculiar and not entirely pleasant reminder of the tiny life growing inside her. Even the once beloved aroma of pizza now repelled her, a cruel twist of fate for someone who considered it a go-to comfort food.

Navigating meal choices had become a minefield of potential nausea triggers. The diversity of restaurant scents, particularly the once enticing smell of ethnic dishes and fried foods, now acted as repellents.

Sitting in the car, she and Murtasim debated where to eat, the list of suitable places had drastically shrunk.

Murtasim glanced at her with concern. "Want to try sandwiches again?" he suggested, likely remembering how bread and butter seemed to be the only things that agreed with her.

Meerab frowned, feeling a twinge of guilt. "But I feel bad for you, you had bland food this morning too," she protested softly.

Murtasim reached over, giving her ponytail a gentle tug, a reassuring smile on his face. "Haan, but I can eat whatever they make at home too, so don't worry about me, meri jaan," he assured her.

Meerab nodded, her eyes brightening a bit. "But can we eat in the car again?" she asked, finding the confined space somehow less overwhelming than the open, scent-filled air of a restaurant.

"Of course," Murtasim agreed readily.

They settled on caprese paninis and lemonade, a combination that seemed safe and, thankfully, turned out to be palatable for Meerab. Murtasim had ordered the same, not out of preference it seemed, but out of solidarity and the way the chicken sandwich had turned her stomach.

Murtasim, his attention momentarily diverted from their makeshift meal, glanced at Meerab with a look of earnest curiosity. "When do you want to tell everyone?" he inquired, his voice soft, as he reached for his lemonade.

Meerab exhaled deeply, wrestling with the thought as she sipped her own drink. The idea of sharing their news with their family filled her with excitement, yet there was a desire to hold onto the moment just a little longer. But she realized she couldn't, not with the way she was sick all the time suddenly.

"Soon," she finally admitted, the words floating between them. "Can't have you injuring yourself every day trying to make me ginger water," she teased, a light smile dancing on her lips.

Murtasim's response was a pout, both adorable and mock-serious, "It won't happen again," he whined.

Her laughter filled the car. "I can't risk those fingers," she continued, her words laced with affection and a hint of jest.

It was only when she caught his reaction, a grin spreading across his face, eyebrow arching in playful inquiry, "Acha?" that she realized the unintended innuendo her words carried. "I didn't realize you held such love for my fingers, meri jaan, but then I guess anything that makes you make those sounds – "

Her hand reached out, whacking his arm hard, an act angry as it was affectionate. "Don't." She warned.

His chuckle, warm and comforting, enveloped her, a sound that felt like home.

"I want to tell all of them together," Meerab mused aloud, her mind casting back to the last time, where an assumption had led to miscommunications and too much drama. This time, she yearned for a shared joy, a collective real celebration of their news.