The next morning, sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. Murtasim woke up to the sound of Meesam's giggles, her tiny hands patting his face as she tried to wake him up. He groaned, blinking against the light, and turned his head to see an empty bed.
Murtasim lay on the bed, watching the door close behind Meerab as she carried Meesam out of the room. He let out a long, exaggerated sigh, flopping back onto the pillows with a dramatic groan. His mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts—part exasperation, part amusement, and a whole lot of pent-up frustration.
"I should’ve known better," he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair. "Meerab and her games. She’s going to be the death of me."
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Meesam’s giggles echoing down the hallway, reminding him that his wife wasn’t the only one determined to test his patience today. He smiled to himself, thinking of his little girl’s bright, innocent face. She was his world, his joy—but right now, she was also his biggest obstacle.
“Baba’s got work to do,” he said aloud, as if Meesam could hear him from the other room. “But how am I supposed to concentrate with you and your mother conspiring against me?”
Murtasim sat up, his mind racing as he tried to come up with a plan. He wasn’t about to let Meerab win this round, no matter how much she enjoyed tormenting him. He was Murtasim Khan, after all—master of his own fate, and certainly not one to back down from a challenge.
With a newfound determination, he jumped out of bed and began pacing the room. “Alright, Meerab,” he muttered to himself. “You want to play games? Let’s see how long you can keep this up.”
A sly smile crept onto his face as an idea formed in his mind. He knew Meerab well enough to know that she enjoyed a good challenge, but she also had a soft spot for romance. If he could combine the two—test her patience while simultaneously sweeping her off her feet—he might just be able to turn the tables.
Murtasim started to plan his next move, carefully considering every detail. He needed to strike the perfect balance between teasing and tenderness, pushing her just enough to drive her crazy without crossing the line. And, of course, he had to contend with their little princess, who was sure to be an enthusiastic participant in this round of their ongoing game.
As he plotted, a wicked grin spread across his face. He knew Meerab wouldn’t be able to resist his charm for long—not when he turned on the full force of his charisma. But he also knew that he had to be careful; Meerab was sharp, and she would catch on to his plan if he wasn’t subtle enough.
By the time he’d finished strategizing, Murtasim felt more confident. He was ready to take on both his wife and daughter, ready to play the game with all the cunning and skill he could muster. And, more importantly, he was ready to make sure that when the time came, Meerab wouldn’t stand a chance against him.
He left the room, heading downstairs with a spring in his step. He found Meerab in the living room, sitting on the floor with Meesam, playing with her toys. The sight of his wife and daughter, both so absorbed in their play, made his heart swell with affection—and a bit of wicked anticipation.
“Good morning, ladies,” Murtasim greeted, sauntering into the room with a casual air.
Meerab looked up, her eyes narrowing slightly as she detected the underlying mischief in his tone. “Good morning,” she replied, a hint of suspicion in her voice.
“Baba!” Meesam squealed, abandoning her toys to run over to him. Murtasim scooped her up in his arms, spinning her around as she giggled with delight.
