Forever His

Chapter 47: Picnic

Mahnoor's POV:

The gentle breeze picks up, lifting the hem of my dress as I reach for a handful of grapes from the basket. I sit up, my gaze flitting over to Shahmeer, who's lying back on the mat, one arm crossed behind his head and the other lazily resting on his chest. His eyes are half-closed against the sunlight, and he's the picture of relaxation, but with that distinct stillness he always carries.

I nudge him gently with my foot, a small grin on my face. "You could try looking a bit less like you're posing for a serious portrait, you know."

He opens one eye, giving me a sidelong glance. "I'm not posing."

"Uh-huh," I say, rolling my eyes. "You look so stiff." I lean over to poke his arm, trying to get a reaction out of him.

He catches my hand in mid-air, raising an eyebrow. "Keep poking and I'll throw you into the fountain we passed."

I snatch my hand back, laughing. "You wouldn't dare."

He only gives a faint smirk. "Don't tempt me, love."

"Empty threats," I tease, plopping down beside him. The word "love" echoes in my mind, even if I know he's saying it with that typical, ironic edge of his.

He lets out a low chuckle that surprises me, and we sit in silence for a while. The day feels warmer, brighter—comfortable, almost. And even though he's a bit distant, there's something in the air between us, something I can't quite explain.

After a while, I lie back too, resting my head on the mat, glancing up at the swaying leaves above. I close my eyes, breathing in the crisp, grassy scent of the park, feeling a peace I didn't know I needed. I shift slightly, and before I realize it, I've moved closer to Shahmeer, my head resting lightly on his bicep.

His arm tenses for a moment, then he adjusts, crossing his arms behind his head without moving away. It's surprisingly comfortable, feeling his strength against me like this. For a few moments, I let myself just relax into it, lulled by the soft sounds of the park and the warmth of the sun. But then, a gust of wind sweeps over us, rustling my dress, and I feel the fabric move, catching at my knees.

I sit up a bit to tug my dress back down, but Shahmeer's leg comes to rest over the edge of it, keeping it anchored against the ground. I glance over, startled, and find him gazing up at the sky, his expression unreadable. It could almost seem considerate, but I remind myself he's not the type to do things out of sentiment. He's just being... proper, I tell myself. Nothing more.

And yet, I can't shake the warmth that spreads through me. My heart flutters, the familiar ache of hoping too much tightening my chest, and I force myself to push it away. Don't keep getting your hopes up, Mahnoor. He's here, but he's not really here with me.

                                                                                      ___________

We were strolling through the scenery taking in the beauty of the fresh greenery. The first drops of rain are a surprise, tapping onto the cobblestone path and quickly dotting the shoulders of Shahmeer's black polo shirt, darkening it in irregular spots as he stands there. The fabric clings to his shoulders, shaping the lean, solid line of his frame. He pulls me gently under the shelter of an overhanging awning.

But the rain starts getting heavier, refreshing, a curtain I haven't felt in so long. I laugh, glancing up at the sky, then make a break for the rain, eager to feel it on my skin.

"Mahnoor." Shahmeer's voice is low, firm, and before I know it, he's caught my hand, pulling me back. He takes a step toward me, a bit too close, his eyes narrowing as if he's sizing up my intentions. He shrugs off his blazer, kneeling in front of me as he wraps it around my shoulders. He buttons it up with deliberate care, his fingers moving with quiet confidence over each button. His hands fall away, and he looks up at me, serious, his voice calm.