Muhafiz-E-Khan (Tere Bin MeeraSim FF)

Epilouge: 47 - 12 Weeks

A/N: the chapter might be a little scientifically inaccurate 😅

In their Mayfair home, the canvas' Murtasim ordered on their last internship/Laudtech attendance/post-car crash stay, had finally arrived. They depicted every stage of their dreamy sea-view, rooftop elopement in shades of rich ivory, both her in an ethereal wedding dress and him in a sartorial blazer that handsomely widened his frame and matched her finesse. The pair were audaciously smitten and crazy in love.

But today, they'd hit reality.

Meerab watched as her husband try his shot at DIY, doing laps while mapping out their entry way wall. Murtasim tried to plan the artwork's placement in an effort to turn the house into a home despite Meerab's suggestion of hiring a handyman. A thin navy sweater rode up his trim waist while he climbed on a dining table chair.

The drilling started.

A tumultuous whizzing noise rattled through her skull; Meerab winced, at both the racket and the lack of a spirit leveler. ''It's not even straight, Murtasim. '' The beautiful canvas capturing the most whimsical day of her life would hang lopsided.

''It is straight,'' Murtasim grumbled adamantly in reply. Powdery bits of flaked-off plaster flew out the wall and made him cough hard.

For all his endless talents that received adequate praise, decorating certainly was not his forte, and even Meerab knew it. She rolled her eyes whilst sat on the second to last step, pulling her up tights up her calfs whilst watchings his efforts. ''Just because you're a soon-to-be-baba dosn't mean you magically developed DIY abilities, Murtasim.'' It felt like he was trying to prove himself, or deluded about the extent of his own abilities that didn't quite extended to actual housework. Meerab heaved as the fabric stretched taunt over her thighs and then she let go of her dress so it fell neatly.

''I was always good at DIY, Meerab, becoming a baba only polished the skill.'' Murtasim jumped off the chair and admired his handiwork.

Being the good wife she was, Meerab stood to give a supportive pat on the back despite how much she grieved the wall that was now studded in an array of ugly, random nails.

Murtasim stepped back and lifted the biggest frame up, a huge picture of Meerab posing with the sheer net veil resting overstep. He stilled in contemplation, taking all the time in the world to admire her unrivalled beauty.

''Just hurry up, my appointment is in 20 minutes,'' Meerab huffed behind him impatiently.

Appointment.

Murtasim had taken Meerab for extra scans initially, to detect the baby's heartbeat and estimate the delivery date, just to settle the worry in his mind. The midwifes had given good news of progression on each visit. And now, the time for her 12-week scan had arrived.

''There's no rush, we'll be on time or they'll change their time to suit us,'' he assured in a cool tone, turning his back on the half-done project to ignore the fuck-up on the crazy expensive wall. Being rich was fun — he didn't even break a sweat thinking about getting the wall plastered anew.

A whine rumbled in Meerab's throat, the suspense grating on her: they'd be finding out the gender today!

Taking her hands cosily within his own, Murtasim voiced with his heart stubbornly set, ''Aur humein pehle hi patta hai ke larki hoge. Jhoote jo khareede the humne Doha mein.''

Meerab's eyebrows raised. ''Your deciding our baby is a girl doesn't change fate, Murtasim.''

''I'm not changing fate. It's a gut feeling that she is a girl; her baba knows.'' Murtasim pointed at his own heart. ''Idhar patta chalta hai.'' His eyes narrowed, trying to convince her too.