Unveiling Meerab [Tere Bin FF]

52. insecurities

Author's Note: Hi y'all! We're switching it up a bit here - there's no Meesam in this chapter but MeeraSim work through things and then...well you know. Hehe. Enjoy!

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Meerab stood in front of the mirror, her eyes scanning her reflection with a sense of quiet disappointment that had become all too familiar since she had gotten pregnant. The room was still, and the only sound was the soft rustling of the curtains as the breeze moved through them. She stared at her body, two months post-birth, feeling as though she didn't quite recognize herself anymore.

Her hands moved over her stomach, where a few faint, silvery stretch marks traced paths across her skin like delicate lines in the sand. They were softer now, less angry and red than they had been after Meesam was born, but still there—just a couple of them, a constant reminder of how her body had changed.

She knew they were normal, that so many women carried these marks, but somehow, that didn't make her feel any better. She tugged at the waistband of her salwar, feeling the tightness around her hips. Her hips were fuller, curvier than before, and no matter how much she tried to convince herself that this was beautiful too, the weight she carried felt heavy in more ways than one.

Her body was softer now, not in the way it had been before. Her curves no longer felt alluring—they just felt...different. She pinched at the skin around her waist, frowning at the way it bunched between her fingers. The weight hadn't come off as quickly as she had hoped, and every time she looked in the mirror, she saw the extra pounds she couldn't seem to lose. It was as if her body had betrayed her, keeping a part of pregnancy that she no longer wanted.

The woman in the mirror felt like a stranger. She had been so proud of her body once—proud of its strength, its beauty, its femininity. But now, all she could see were the changes, the imperfections. Her stomach wasn't as flat as it had been before Meesam. Her thighs were rounder, her breasts fuller in a way that made her feel almost foreign to herself.

With a soft sigh, she let her hands fall to her sides. She wanted to feel proud of her body for what it had done—for carrying and delivering their beautiful daughter. But all she could feel was insecurity, a deep, aching fear that Murtasim no longer saw her the same way.

Did he notice the changes? He had to. The full hips, the softer curves, the marks left behind. She wondered if he still loved her body the way he had before, or if, in the back of his mind, he missed the woman she had been before Meesam. Maybe he didn't even realize it—but she feared he couldn't love this new version of her.

Dr. Abbasi had cleared them for intimacy days ago, she had smiled and reassured them that everything was healing well, that Meerab could return to engaging in sexual activity whenever she felt ready. And Meerab had been sure, for the last two weeks, that she was ready.

But Murtasim hadn't made a move.

He was still loving, still so gentle and affectionate. He cuddled her every night, pulling her close to him as they lay in bed, his arms wrapping around her like she was still the most precious thing in the world. He kissed her all the time—on the forehead, on the cheek, on her lips in the soft, sweet way that made her heart flutter. But there was a distance now, a hesitation that she couldn't ignore.

He didn't touch her the way he used to—the way that made her feel desired, wanted.

He didn't slide his hand up her kameez as he used to, that playful spark in his eyes as he trailed them up to her breasts. He didn't beg her to sneak off to some quiet corner of the house when they had a few moments to themselves, the way he always had before. He didn't sneak into the bathroom while she showered, teasing her with whispered promises. That hunger, that urgency that had existed between them—it wasn't there anymore.