The heavy drapes fluttered in the faint breeze that sneaked through the slightly ajar window, and the soft moonlight bathed the room in a silver hue. Murtasim lay there, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm that had yet to settle, his skin still heated from the moments they'd just shared. He turned his head slightly to the side, and there she was—Meerab, resting quietly beside him, her dark hair splayed across the pillows, the sheets only partially covering her delicate form. She was the epitome of serenity now, her breathing slow and even, her eyes closed in a peaceful slumber. The chaos and tension that always seemed to define their relationship had melted away in the intimacy of the moment, leaving behind only this—their shared warmth.
Murtasim propped himself up slightly on his elbow, his eyes roaming over her, admiring every curve and line of her face, the slope of her neck, the way the moonlight danced across her skin. A soft smile played on his lips as he gazed at her, the weight of all that had transpired between them flooding his mind, but none of it compared to this—this moment of quiet contentment. His heart swelled with something fierce, an overwhelming sense of gratitude, a humbling realization that she was his.
His Meerab.
"How did I get so lucky?" he whispered, his voice barely audible, as though afraid that speaking it aloud might break the spell.
She stirred slightly, her lashes fluttering but not fully opening, a small sigh escaping her lips as she shifted closer to him, unconsciously seeking the warmth of his body. Murtasim's hand, large and strong, reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering as they traced the curve of her cheek. Her skin was so soft, like velvet beneath his fingertips, and he couldn’t help but lean in, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. The way she sighed in her sleep, her body instinctively relaxing further into him, made his heart skip a beat.
Unable to resist, he leaned back against the headboard, pulling her with him so she was cradled in his lap, her head resting against his chest. Meerab murmured something incoherent as her arms instinctively wrapped around his waist, her body melting into his as if this was the most natural thing in the world. Murtasim chuckled softly, the sound low and tender, as he kissed the top of her head.
"You drive me insane, you know that?" he whispered, his lips brushing against her hair. "But I wouldn’t have it any other way."
Her head shifted slightly, and she opened her eyes, bleary and still heavy with sleep. "Murtasim?" Her voice was soft, laced with the remnants of sleep, but there was something else there too—an intimacy, a vulnerability she rarely showed.
"I'm here," he replied, his voice equally soft, a thumb brushing gently along her jawline. "Always."
Meerab blinked up at him, her eyes adjusting to the dim light, and when they finally locked onto his, her expression softened. She shifted slightly in his lap, her body still warm from their shared passion, and leaned into him, resting her head against his chest again. Murtasim let out a deep breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, his arms wrapping around her protectively.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The only sounds were their breathing and the soft rustling of the sheets as they shifted against each other. It was in these quiet moments, the ones where no words were needed, that Murtasim felt the most at peace. He had spent so long fighting—fighting for her, fighting for their love, fighting against the world that didn’t understand them. But here, in this room, in this bed, there was no need for fighting.
"Meerab," he whispered again, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear, "I love you."
Her breath hitched slightly at his words, and she tilted her head back to look up at him, her eyes searching his face for something. His hand came up to cup her cheek, his thumb tracing slow, gentle circles on her skin as he gazed down at her, his expression soft, tender, utterly in awe of her.
