Ittefaq Say (MeeraSim FF)

40 - Epilouge

''And next, we would like to congratulate Miss Ahmed on her first class LLB,'' the speaker phone rang through the high ceiling of the auditorium. The introduction elicited a rich round of applause and Murtasim found himself standing amongst the crowd, clapping so hard that his hands hurt as Meerab stepped around the curtain. The claps crackled, unabashedly backing her, fuelling the lift to her every step in front of an overspilling crowd.

The slight waddle to Meerab's step ensnared Murtasim in concern, wishing to hold her hand despite the terrain being wholly safe and even. But it was Meerab's time to shine as her khusse trod along a red carpet, her mustard, diaphanous dupatta trailing behind her elegantly like the flow of an ebbing tide. The hem of her midnight graduation gown swayed past her knees on every step, making her family grin so hard that their cheeks ached, cheering till their throats itched raw, Murtasim front and centre of the lot.

A long rolled-up diploma was placed into Meerab's hand and shaken under the bright spotlight, hearty and accomplished. Meerab turned, seeing Murtasim's towering out from the crowd; deep crinkles of affection formed at the corner of his eyes as his biwi basked in her due applaud. Waistcoat unbuttoned and opened as his clapping hands lifted overhead.

The graduation hat pushed her usual bouncy bangs down and they framed Meerab's view when she paused for a second to capture the scene of her wishes incarnate. Noori whistled at the front of the crowd, 9 years old and suddenly blooming tall like her father yet with sprawling, wayward curls. Mateen shouldered her, 6 and awkward as the cheers rained down, smiling at his Maami. Now a third bundle of mischief had joined a crew, a 4-year-old fiend that toyed with a bouquet of silver and gold balloons.

''Bahut shukria,'' Meerab whispered to their Dean before following her way into the graduate's seating area on the last row. It was impossible not to sneak a glance behind her shoulder when she felt their cosy warmth, turning to see her husband with their children, her heart utterly full. (Thank you so much.)

With a two-year-old girl lazing on Murtasim's shoulder, their gazes met on a fleeting fling. Without anyone noticing, Murtasim's eyebrows lifted for wordless questions of, ''Theek ho? Kuch chahiye? Main au?'' (Are you okay? Do you need something? Shall I come?)

''Theek hou, Murtasim,'' she whispered, gaze flickering to her babies to assure her heart and then she settled for the rest of the ceremony, absorbing the dean's sincere congratulations that charged the air with a buzz of pride. A thunder of claps resumed to tie off the ceremony and families were shown their way out, but Murtasim lingered. (I'm fine.)

Two steps were taken to be closer to Meerab, trespassing to finally be able to swipe his finger down her cheek as if he perpetually craved her proximity, the touch a source of calm amid the rush and bustle of the event. Meerab picked up the lilies  from her seat, ready to leave.

Relief washed through him at every moment and her friends blushed when Meerab was personally escorted outwards with a hand hovering behind her back, another woven into her hand. ''Sunna tha, unhone tumhara naam ghalat liye. I hope it's written correctly on your degree,'' Murtasim muttered between them, giddy at the sight of his accomplished, graduate wife. (Did you hear, they said your name wrong.)

''Takleef hue the sunke?'' Meerab teased, gazing up at her doting husband. The commotion passed them without a care, taking careful steps that meant everyone passed them. (Did it hurt hearing them say I'm unmarried?)

''Bahut,'' he sighed playfully, unable to take offence when she glowed so brightly, becoming the sun in his life. Meerab was his beacon of guiding light that poured life into every facet, illuminated every day since the alarm had blared at Islamabad's train station. ''Dil kar raha tha ke aah kar kahou, iska naam Mrs Khan hai.'' (Very much. I had the urge to interrupt and tell them your name is Mrs Khan.)