Muhafiz-E-Khan (Tere Bin MeeraSim FF)

24 - Dost

''What did Shahnawaz Sahab say about our nikkah?'' Meerab asked while reclining in her premium seat, the center row that bordered Murtasim.

Murtasim pushed a button and the center divider rolled down, providing the perfect of his nawabzaadi in all sultry black travel outfit, somehow bringing out the deep auburn shades to her hair.

''Kuch bhe nahi,'' Murtasim shrugged off after a second of mulling over the encounter. ''Kar bhe kya sakta tha? Beta hun uska, pyar karta hai mujhse. And more importantly, he knows your baba and anything that draws attention to this nikkah would be dangerous. He accepted it.'' It was a strange sort of win, having the support of his father but now fully understanding the man within; Murtasim was not built on stone, but sheathed foundations of a love-stricken boy beneath the cast of success. Murtasim's unrequired desire had been a dangerous and unrelenting driving force. (Nothing. What can he say? I am his son and cares for me.)

''Itni asaane se?'' (It was that easy.)

''My baba is not the problem. Yours is,'' Murtasim reminded wryly.

The defence evoked a pout on Meerab's lips. ''Aise tou na kaho. Mere baba mere liye pyara hai.'' (Don't say it like that. My father is dear to me.)

Murtasim bit his tongue after recalling the numerous times he'd insulted Anwar to her face, Meerab had been offended but stay quiet or act unbothered to maintain her bratty persona. ''Haan haan...pyara hai.'' Murtasim uttered without hint of belief. (Yeah.. he is sweet.)

Meerab huffed at his half-hearted effort. ''Jhoot bholne ko bhe nahi keh rahe.'' (I didn't tell you to lie.)

Commotion of the scene around them proceeded, ear popping pressure and with the hard seatbelt digging into his hip. It all felt insignificant with his girl in view. ''Meri biwi pyaari hai,'' Murtasim amended his statement, scanning her alluring face in unabashed study. (My wife is sweet.)

Meerab, swooning, rolled her eyes. ''Did you upgrade our tickets?'' The second flight from Doha to London would be long and Meerab intended to nap, the lights dimming as they soared through the atmosphere. The plane was lofty, each seat studded with a maroon cushion from what she saw beyond the dividers. Above them, a runway of lights lined the isles. Yet they were cosily together in the skies.

''Bodyguard hone ka kya faida agar aur loag aas paas rahe?'' (What's the point of being your bodyguard if i'm not close to you?)

''Oh, so you did it for... saftey?'' Meerab mused with a growing curve to her smile, fuelled on contentment.

''Dil ka sukoon,'' Murtasim confessed. ''I needed you within reach,'' he whispered, his fingers slotting into Meerab's and enclosing his hands around hers. The tessellation — the heady visual knotting of his finger between hers — was a sweet little dream. ''Biwi ka haath pakarne ka haq hai mujhe.'' (For peace of mind. It's my right to be able to hold my wife's hand.)

It seemed that physical touch was Murtasim's love language, his thumb absentmindedly tracing the lines of her palm. Each tickle, without him fully realising, sent a tickle up her spine and echoed of the way he held her during their love making session. Meerab's cheeks betrayed her and a layer of blush dusted over cheeks, reflecting the love blooming in her heart. ''Chorna nahi mera haath.'' (Don't let go of my hand.)

''Iraada tou nahi hai, nawabzaadi,'' Murtasim replied in a fevered whisper, fluently reading the glint of passion in her eyes. The grip on her hand tightened and he lifted her hand, placing a kiss upon her knuckles. ''Chahath hai...'' Murtasim's lips met her knuckles, ''...ke umar bhar...'' another caress was deposited upon the mountain of Meerab's hand, ''...aise he pakarta rahun.'' (I don't have the intention of doing so. I hope that i'll keep holding it like this for the rest of my life.)