I would want y'all to play "the background music from episode 20 when Meerab slid into bed with him" before reading the following please for all the tight feels! Hehe
See y'all at the end!
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The room was shrouded in a deep, restful silence, broken only by the soft hum of the ceiling fan and the occasional rustle of the curtains swaying in the night breeze. The moonlight spilt through the large window, casting a gentle, silvery glow over the room. Meerab stirred from her sleep, slowly opening her eyes to the dimly lit surroundings. The quietude of the late hour was almost tangible, wrapping the room in a serene cocoon.
As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she noticed the empty space beside her on the bed.
He still wasn't back?
Tf was wrong with this annoying man?....
"Over insan. Ghar na akay Samjhta hai mein mari jarhi hun is se baat kerne ke liye" she thought in frustration.
Turning her head, she saw Murtasim sprawled on the blue couch placed in the corner of the room. He looked peaceful, albeit uncomfortable, with one of his long legs hanging slightly over the edge and a pillow clutched under his arm. His breathing was steady, his chest rising and falling in a rhythmic pattern that mirrored the tranquillity of the night.
Meerab's heart ached as she remembered the tension that had filled their past two days. Murtasim had been angry with her, and the distance between them was palpable. She sighed softly, the weight of their unspoken words pressing down on her.
"How do I tell you that I didn't do anything..." she sighed, shaking her head
She slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb the silence. Dressed in a beige salwar suit that clung to her frame, she moved gracefully across the room. Her bare feet made no sound on the cool floor as she approached the couch, her eyes fixed on Murtasim. He looked so different in sleep—vulnerable, almost boyish, with his messy hair tousled over his forehead and his strong features softened by the gentle embrace of slumber.
Meerab noticed that he didn't have anything to keep him warm. A pang of concern prompted her to grab a blanket from the bed. She returned to the couch and stood there for a moment, just watching him. His beauty struck her anew—the way his lashes cast delicate shadows on his cheeks, the curve of his lips, the peacefulness that radiated from him. The moustache. She had never focused on how attractive it was. She wanted to leave everything and just sit beside him to play with it. Only if she could, she would never let him curl his moustache when she would be there to do it - but how could she? She hadn't let her feelings out. She knew how mad he would get if he knew she wanted to play with his face. His eyebrows, his moustache, his cheeks. He was handsome, and there was no way she would deny that ever.
His pink lips. Oh, how they were of the same shade of kashmiri chai. So damn tempting. She wanted to kiss him but was ashamed to accept.
She wanted to play with his messy hair.
She wanted to trace his thick eyelashes
She wanted to curl his moustache.
She wanted to stroke his soft cheeks.
She wanted to kiss his pretty lips.
So ashamed to accept, but it was a fact. He was pretty.... too handsome.
She giggled as she turned her face aside, a blush creeping up her cheeks. She felt a surge of affection, mingled with regret for the discord between them.
He was charming..
Taking a deep breath, she draped the blanket over his body, ensuring it covered him snugly. She leaned down to tuck the edges around him, her movements tender and deliberate. As she did so, her fingers brushed against his hand, which was hanging off the couch. She gently lifted it, tucking it under the blanket to keep it warm.
