The morning sunlight filtered softly through the curtains of their bedroom, casting a warm glow over the room. Meerab stood by the wardrobe, casually picking out her clothes for the day. Murtasim, sprawled on the bed with a newspaper in hand, was pretending to be engrossed in the headlines. In reality, his attention was nowhere near the printed words. His eyes kept flickering toward Meerab, who was completely oblivious to the effect she was having on him.
She seemed so unbothered, so natural, as she pulled out a simple kurta and turned toward the full-length mirror to inspect it. Murtasim, on the other hand, felt the room getting a little too warm. His gaze drifted to her fingers, which worked nimbly at the buttons of her nightgown, unbuttoning it one by one with an almost torturous slowness.
He quickly looked back down at the newspaper, willing himself to focus on anything else. Read the headlines, Murtasim, he told himself, but the words blurred before him, useless against the growing heat in his body.
Meerab hummed softly to herself, oblivious to the internal struggle going on just a few feet away. She removed the nightgown and casually tossed it onto the bed before reaching for her clothes. Murtasim’s eyes widened despite himself, catching the briefest glimpse of her bare back before she slipped into the kurta. The sight of her soft skin, the curve of her waist, and the way her hair fell gently over her shoulders—all of it hit him like a tidal wave.
He shifted uncomfortably, suddenly all too aware of the effect her presence had on him. The once-cool bed now felt suffocating, and he felt a tightness in his chest that was impossible to ignore. Worse still, he could feel his body reacting. Fast. Way too fast.
In a panic, Murtasim grabbed the nearest pillow and discreetly placed it over his lap, praying that Meerab wouldn’t turn around and see his very obvious reaction. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down, but it was no use. His heart was pounding in his chest, and the heat that spread through him was undeniable.
Meerab finally turned, fully dressed now, her eyes meeting his. She frowned slightly, noticing the way he sat awkwardly with the pillow positioned strangely over his lap.
“Murtasim, what’s wrong with you?” she asked, her tone curious.
Murtasim’s eyes darted up to meet hers, and he felt the blood rush to his face. His usual confidence was nowhere to be found as he scrambled for a response. “N-Nothing,” he stammered, shifting the pillow slightly as if it would somehow help his case. “Why do you ask?”
Meerab’s frown deepened as she walked closer, eyeing him suspiciously. “You look… weird. Are you feeling sick or something?”
Murtasim cleared his throat, trying to play it cool. “No, I’m fine,” he muttered, but the way he clutched the pillow tighter to himself betrayed him.
Meerab wasn’t convinced. She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “Why are you holding the pillow like that?”
Murtasim blinked rapidly, panic creeping into his voice. “Uh… I’m just… comfortable like this.”
Meerab stared at him for a moment, her gaze skeptical. Then, as if something clicked in her mind, her eyes widened with realization. “Wait… are you…?”
Murtasim’s face turned an even deeper shade of red. He quickly averted his gaze, unable to look her in the eyes. “I’m not—It’s not—” He fumbled for words, completely flustered.
Meerab’s mouth slowly curved into a teasing smile. “Oh my God, Murtasim… were you—?” She couldn’t finish the sentence, but the playful lilt in her voice was enough to send Murtasim over the edge.
“I wasn’t!” he protested, though the pillow pressed firmly against his lap said otherwise.
Meerab’s laughter filled the room, and Murtasim felt his face burn with embarrassment. This was not how he imagined this moment going. He was supposed to be the one in control, the one who made her flustered, not the other way around.
“Well,” Meerab teased, her voice dripping with amusement, “I didn’t realize I had that kind of effect on you.”
Murtasim groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Meerab, stop. This is so embarrassing.”
Meerab, still chuckling, walked closer to the bed, her arms crossed as she leaned down slightly to meet his eyes. “I mean, it’s kind of cute, you know. The big, bad Khan, getting all worked up so quickly.”
Murtasim peeked through his fingers, his expression half-annoyed, half-pleading. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Oh, absolutely,” Meerab grinned, clearly enjoying his discomfort. “I didn’t know you could get so… flustered.”
Murtasim groaned again, his hands still covering his face. “This is not happening.”
Meerab, undeterred, sat down on the edge of the bed, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “So, what was it? Was it when I was unbuttoning my nightgown, or was it—?”
“Meerab!” Murtasim exclaimed, his voice a mix of mortification and desperation. “Please stop!”
She giggled, thoroughly entertained by his reaction. “Alright, alright. I’ll stop.” She paused for a moment, her gaze softening as she looked at him. “But seriously, Murtasim… you don’t have to be embarrassed. It’s kind of flattering, actually.”
Murtasim finally lowered his hands, his expression still sheepish. He glanced at her, feeling slightly more at ease now that her tone had softened. “You… really think so?”
Meerab nodded, her smile turning more genuine. “Of course. I mean, it’s not every day I make someone like you flustered.”
Murtasim couldn’t help but chuckle, though he still felt the heat in his cheeks. “Well, congratulations. You’ve officially succeeded.”
Meerab tilted her head, her eyes gleaming playfully. “Good. But don’t think I’m going to let you forget this anytime soon.”
Murtasim sighed, though there was a hint of a smile on his lips. “I had a feeling you’d say that.”
She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Besides, who knows? Maybe next time… I’ll give you something really worth getting excited about.”
Murtasim’s eyes widened in surprise, his heart skipping a beat at her bold words. Before he could respond, Meerab stood up, her smile widening as she walked out of the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts—and the pillow still firmly in place.
As the door clicked shut behind her, Murtasim exhaled slowly, his mind racing. He had always been the one to tease, the one to fluster her, but now that the tables had turned, he realized just how disarming it could be.
And despite the embarrassment… a part of him couldn’t wait to see what she would do next.
