I know Meerab's eyes are not blue but just roll with it.
The evening sun cast its golden glow across the room, bathing everything in a warm, amber hue. The curtains fluttered softly in the breeze, and the sound of distant birds could be heard from the open window. Inside their bedroom, there was a quiet anticipation, a sort of stillness that filled the air with an almost electric tension.
Murtasim stood by the dresser, his back to the room, his hands slowly running over the delicate fabric of the blue saree he had chosen for her. It wasn’t just any blue; it was a deep, ocean blue, the color that reminded him of the way Meerab’s eyes would shimmer under the right light. He could still remember the first time he saw her in a saree—it had been breathtaking, and tonight, he wanted to relive that feeling, to create a moment neither of them would ever forget.
It was their first wedding anniversary, and Murtasim had planned everything. He didn’t care about the grandeur or the celebrations; for him, the night was only about them. The world could wait. Tonight was for her, for him, for the love they had built over the past year.
“Meerab,” he called out softly, his voice low and filled with anticipation.
She appeared from the adjoining room, her long hair falling down her back in soft waves, a simple robe draped loosely around her. Her eyes met his, and she gave him a soft smile, a mixture of curiosity and amusement lighting up her face.
“What’s this about?” she asked, raising an eyebrow as she noticed the carefully arranged jewelry and saree spread out before him.
Murtasim turned to face her, his eyes dark and intense as he took in the sight of her. “It’s our anniversary,” he murmured, stepping closer. “I want to do something special for you.”
She looked at him, slightly puzzled. “And that involves…?” she gestured toward the clothes and accessories.
He smiled, that slow, sensual smile that always made her heart skip a beat. “It involves me dressing you up. Tonight, I want to ready you myself, for me.”
The way he said it, the way his voice dropped at the end, sent a shiver down her spine. There was something undeniably intimate about the thought of him dressing her, something that went beyond mere affection. It was an act of love, of devotion, of possession, and the idea left her both nervous and excited.
“Murtasim…” she began, but he silenced her with a finger to her lips.
“No objections, Meerab,” he whispered, his eyes locking onto hers. “Tonight, I want to take care of everything. I want to take my time with you.”
His words hung in the air, heavy with promise.
She swallowed hard, nodding slightly, unable to form a coherent response. There was something in his gaze, something deep and primal, that made her breath hitch.
Murtasim’s hand trailed from her lips down to her chin, lifting her face so he could study her more closely. His thumb grazed the soft skin of her cheek, and he leaned in, his breath warm against her ear as he whispered, “Trust me, Meerab.”
She did. She always had.
With a gentle tug, he undid the knot of her robe, letting the fabric fall away from her body, leaving her standing before him in nothing but her lingerie. His eyes darkened as they roamed over her, his breath catching for a moment as he drank her in.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire.
Meerab’s cheeks flushed under his gaze, and she looked away, feeling both exposed and cherished under the weight of his intense stare.
