𝗪𝗔𝗡𝗡𝗔 𝗕𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥𝗦

𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐆𝐄-𝟏

MEERAB'S POV

Five months have passed since I walked down the aisle, adorned in a stunning red bridal lehenga that concealed the turmoil swirling within me. Five months since I uttered "Qubool hain" to Murtasim Khan and signed the nikahnama, a man I had known since childhood-the love of my life, discovered through an arranged marriage proposal.

This was not a love story in the traditional sense, not the kind that fills the pages of novels or graces the silver screen. It was an arranged marriage, a union crafted by our families, two branches of a long-standing friendship woven together by the fabric of tradition.

At 26, we were both successful in our own right, yet our lives had unfolded in parallel universes, our paths intersecting only briefly at family gatherings. A polite "hi," a tentative "hello," and a shared smile that never truly reached our eyes.

The question lingered in the air, thick with unspoken expectations: "Can you see anyone in your heart?" My family, with their well-meaning intentions, posed this question to gauge our readiness for marriage. Together, we answered with a firm "no." We weren't ready-not yet. We were young, focused on our careers, and eager to explore the world.

Then, everything changed. A whirlwind of emotions engulfed me when Murtasim's mother suggested an arranged marriage, allowing us the freedom to say "NO" at any time. It was a shock, a complete surprise. My heart raced, a chaotic blend of fear and excitement, as he was my secret crush, igniting a flicker of rebellion within me. The weight of obligation pressed down on me, a responsibility I had never anticipated.

But then, we began dating. What started as awkward eye contact and shy smiles blossomed into hours of deep conversations, laughter, and the sharing of our dreams. We planned special dates for each other, using our hard-earned money, which made each moment feel even more meaningful. I started to discover a new side of Murtasim-one that transcended his charming smile and the most beautiful eyes I had ever seen. His caring nature, genuine warmth, and unwavering support gradually melted away my initial apprehension.

Our relationship deepened into an intense journey of exploring each other's souls. I found myself captivated by his strength, intelligence, and steadfast commitment to our future.

It feels like just yesterday we were joyfully celebrating our engagement after a whirlwind two years that began with an arranged marriage proposal, leading us into our dating life.

From the very start, he has been my unwavering support. He never attempted to push me down a path dictated by my family's traditions. Instead, he encouraged me to pursue my passions, break free from societal expectations, and forge my own identity. He recognized the spark in my eyes when I spoke about swimming and how it made me feel truly alive, and he always believed in my ability to achieve my dreams.

His unwavering support was an unyielding source of strength. He constantly encouraged me to train harder, to believe in myself even when I doubted my abilities, and to never give up on my dreams. He was not just my biggest cheerleader; he was my confidante and my partner in every sense of the word.

My fears slowly faded, replaced by a burgeoning sense of love and excitement. The whirlwind of emotions settled, leaving behind a calm certainty. I realized, with a clarity that surprised even me, that Murtasim was the one I wanted to spend my life with.

Then, just a month after our wedding, I found myself standing on the podium in Paris, the Olympic gold medal gleaming in my hand. The roar of the crowd was deafening, yet all I could hear was his voice, his words of encouragement echoing in my mind. I could still visualize him among the audience, with tears of pride in his eyes, proudly declaring, "I am the husband of Meerab Ahemad," when the interviewer asked him a question amidst the loud applause.

That night, I finally confessed my love to him, my Murtasim. The Eiffel Tower loomed majestically against the Parisian twilight, its iron latticework shimmering with a thousand twinkling lights. The city of love, Paris, wrapped us in its enchanting embrace.

He stood there, my love, his eyes reflecting the city lights, his smile a radiant beacon in the encroaching dusk. My heart raced in my chest, a drumbeat of anticipation. This was it-the moment I had longed for, the moment I had meticulously planned, the moment I had waited for.

With a deep breath, I knelt before him, the cold stone of the tower floor starkly contrasting with the warmth of my love. Tears welled in my eyes, not tears of sadness, but tears of joy-tears that spoke of a love that had blossomed in my heart, a love that had grown stronger with each passing day.

"I love you," I whispered, my voice trembling with emotion. "I love you more than words can say. You are my everything, my soulmate, my best friend, my love."

I poured out my heart to him, telling him of the dreams we'd shared, the laughter we'd enjoyed, and the adventures we'd embarked on together. I told him of the future I envisioned-a future filled with love, laughter, and a lifetime of happiness.

He looked at me, his eyes filled with a love that mirrored my own. He reached out, his hand finding mine, his touch sending shivers down my spine.

"I, too, love you so much, meri jaan. I really, really love you Meerab ; words are not enough for it."

Under the soft glow of the moonlight, we shared our first kiss-a moment of pure magic, the culmination of all the feelings we had held back, a promise of a lifetime of love.

The kiss was a jolt of pure electricity, a burst of joy that ignited a fire within me. Our lips moved in perfect harmony, a slow, sweet dance that sent shivers down my spine. It was a kiss that spoke of longing, of unspoken desires, and in that moment, the world around us ceased to exist. We clung to each other, lost in the intoxicating embrace.

When we finally broke apart, a single, delicate thread of saliva stretched between us, a tangible reminder of the intimacy we shared. We stared into each other's eyes, the silence thick with unspoken words and a yearning for more.

I don't know who initiated it, but in the next moment, we were practically devouring each other's lips, engaged in a passionate tongue fight. I found myself playing with his hair, tugging it tightly, while his hands gripped my waist firmly, enough to leave a mark. But can I complain? Absolutely not. The intensity of the moment turns me on and makes me crave even more from my husband. I imagined how it would feel when his fingers explore a foreign place of mine that I haven't dared to touch until now.

As if to bless our union, the first drops of rain began to fall, a gentle patter that whispered a blessing upon us. The air grew cool, but the warmth of our love enveloped us, keeping us safe and secure.

Later, wrapped in each other's arms, we watched the rain fall over the city of love. I knew this was just the beginning. We had found each other, and God, in His infinite wisdom, had brought us together.

My love, my husband, my everything. I was his, and he was mine. Together, we would face whatever life threw our way, hand in hand, heart to heart.