| Hawaaon Ke Paighaam | Messages Of The Wind | A Tere Bin AU

| Mandarin Sands Beach |

Haan chu toh liya hai ye jism tune, rooh bhi choom le

alfaaz bhige bhige kyun hai mere

haan yun choor ho ke majboor ho ke, qatra qatra kahe

ehsaas bheege bheege kyun hain mere

do bekhabar bheege badan, ho besabar bheege badan

le rahe raat bhar angraiyaan

beintehaa, beintehaa

yun pyar kar

beintehaa...

"I don't know. I honestly don't want to think about it anymore." Meerab looked sideways at her friend as they walked around the terrace of Murtasim's penthouse. Their gait was slow due to Meerab, who was still a week into her recovery and doing well. "I'm overthinking. Again." Leena continued as she scooped up a huge spoonful of freshly made chocolate gelato and let it melt in her mouth.

Meerab looked away and did the same with her own cup of gelato before sighing. There was literally nothing she could say that would really, actually make a difference because the only thing Leena needed to feel better right now was an explanation from a dark blond-almost dark caramel haired Arab who was still thousands of miles away in Moscow. The best thing she could do for her dear friend was to listen without judgement or bias.

'Hmm' was all she murmured as they walked along the sun lit terrace to give Meerab some gentle exercise.

It was first time since the procedure that she was up and about, and engaging in activity that didn't just involve going to the bathroom. She'd gotten steadily fed up of being in bed, which was all she'd been 'allowed' to do for almost five days. By allowed, she didn't mean by the doctor. No, the doctor had said she was ready to be on her feet, albeit taking it gently, as soon as she opened her eyes and the effects of anaesthesia had left her body. The stricter command had come from the military-esque regime imposed on her by a certain pilot who knew nothing about medicine but had deemed himself the only acceptable authority he trusted when it came to her post-op recovery.

'What?' she had snapped when he'd told her of course she couldn't walk on the terrace on Day Two when she'd had enough of being inside the bedroom and had wanted a breather. When she'd given him a baffled, annoyed look, he'd suddenly realised that was against another rule in the 'regime' of her recovery: what Meerab wants, Meerab gets. So he'd very seriously walked over to the bed, gently scooped her up into his arms and walked her over to the terrace before sitting her down on a patio armchair padded with about four towels just so her sore skin down-there wouldn't hurt.

'Tum terrace pe baith sakti ho. That's not a problem.'

It had been a compromise on her original wish, and had appeased for exactly thirty seconds after which she'd sighed and had him looking at her from his position on the armchair next to her.

'Mujhe chalna hai, Murtasim. I want to feel the breeze. Get a little fresh. Mai baith baith ke tang ho gayi hoon.'

It had just a simple, soft plea, and of course he hadn't rejected because rule number whatever aka 'What Meerab wants, Meerab gets'. Eyeing her for just a few seconds, he'd smoothly gotten up, walked over to her and scooped her up into her arms like it was now as normal for him as flying a plane. That was how Meerab had 'walked' on the terrace and had had a chance to 'feel the breeze and get a little fresh'. Encased snugly and comfortably in his arms, she'd felt the Doha sea breeze hit her face as he walked slowly from one end of the terrace to the other for about five minutes until she nuzzled his neck and told him she was tired.