In the moonlit silence of their bedroom, Murtasim sat on the edge of the bed, still half-dressed in his kurta from the day’s events. The weight of responsibility on his shoulders was palpable as he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. It had been a long day of managing family affairs and dealing with the intricacies of village politics. All he wanted was a quiet night with Meerab.
Meerab stood by the window, her eyes lingering on the soft glow of the full moon outside. The silver light bathed her in an ethereal glow, making her appear almost otherworldly. Murtasim, distracted by his thoughts, didn’t notice the playful glint in her eyes as she turned to face him. She had a plan in mind—a plan that required a little more than just words to convince him.
Mariyam had confided in her earlier that day, expressing her deep love for Anas and her desire to marry him. But convincing Murtasim to agree to meet Anas was no easy task. He was protective of his sister, and the very idea of Mariyam marrying someone he didn’t completely trust was unacceptable. However, Meerab knew her husband well enough to know that his resolve could be swayed—if approached the right way.
With slow, deliberate steps, Meerab walked toward the bed, her bare feet making soft sounds against the floor. Murtasim’s eyes drifted to her, catching her movement, but he didn’t expect what was coming next. Meerab, sensing his weariness, decided to play her hand.
"Murtasim," her voice was soft, almost a purr, as she sat beside him on the bed. She let her fingers brush lightly against his arm, sending a shiver up his spine.
He turned his head to look at her, raising a brow. "Hmm?" He could tell she was up to something, but the warmth in her touch made it hard to resist whatever it was she wanted.
Meerab leaned in closer, her lips hovering near his ear. "You look so tense, jaan. Let me help you relax." Her voice dripped with a seductive charm he wasn’t accustomed to hearing from her. It was enough to pique his interest, though his guard remained high.
"What do you want, Meerab?" he asked, his tone amused but cautious. He knew her too well. She always had an ulterior motive when she spoke to him like this.
"Can’t a wife take care of her husband without wanting something in return?" she teased, trailing her fingers along his arm, then down his chest. The slow, intimate caress stirred something deep inside him, and Murtasim’s breath hitched. He shifted slightly, trying to regain control of the situation.
But Meerab wasn’t done. Not by a long shot.
She leaned closer, her breath warm against his neck as she whispered, "You know, you work so hard, always looking after everyone else. Maybe tonight, I can look after you…" Her lips grazed his skin, sending a rush of heat through his body. He tensed, his body immediately reacting to her touch, but he wasn’t going to let her win so easily.
"What are you up to, Meerab?" His voice was strained now, the temptation in her touch obvious, but he knew she wasn’t one to seduce him for no reason. There was always something deeper with her.
Meerab, sensing his resistance, shifted her position. She swung one leg over his lap, straddling him, her body pressing against his. Her hands rested on his shoulders, her fingers kneading into the tense muscles there. Murtasim’s hands instinctively settled on her waist, though he still eyed her suspiciously.
"You know Mariyam deserves to be happy, right?" she asked innocently, her lips inches from his. "And Anas… well, he’s not that bad, is he?"
Ah, so this was about Mariyam and Anas. Murtasim sighed deeply, leaning his head back against the headboard, but not before letting his eyes wander over his wife’s figure. The way she was perched on his lap, the warmth of her body, the subtle scent of her perfume—it was driving him insane.
