Forever His

Chapter 67: Craving The Burn

Shahmeer's POV:

The living room hums with low chatter and soft laughter. Ayesha's cousin and her husband sit across from us, sipping tea and sharing stories about their kids. Farjaad and Ayesha occasionally chime in, their voices light, their joy unmistakable. I lean back against the sofa, my arm resting on the cushion behind Mahnoor.

She's quiet beside me, her hands neatly folded in her lap. Every now and then, she offers a polite smile or nods when someone addresses her, but I can tell she's fading. Her energy has been stretched thin since the party started.

I glance at her sideways, watching her fight the weight of her eyelids. She stifles a yawn behind her hand, quickly covering it with a small cough as if no one noticed.

I did.

The instinct to pull her closer, to let her rest, creeps up on me, but I brush it aside. So, I do nothing. My arm stays on the sofa, close enough to brush her shoulder but not quite touching.

The conversation drifts, moving from stories about kids to a debate about baby names. Mahnoor shifts slightly beside me, leaning just a little closer, her head tilting back against the cushion.

And then, it happens.

Her head falls back against my arm, her body going slack as sleep overtakes her. It's so effortless, so unguarded, that it catches me off guard. For a second, I sit frozen, unsure whether to move or stay still. The warmth of her cheek against my forearm is both surprising and... strangely comforting.

Farjaad notices first. Of course, he does. He smirks at me from across the room, raising an eyebrow like he's waiting to see what I'll do. Then, he gives me one of those ridiculous hand signals, gesturing for me to pull her closer.

I narrow my eyes at him. No way, I try to convey silently. But he just tilts his head toward the cousins, silently mouthing something about them not noticing.

I sigh, shaking my head. Subtlety is clearly not Farjaad's strength.

Carefully, I shift my arm, sliding it from the back of the sofa to around Mahnoor's shoulders. She doesn't stir as I guide her closer, her head now resting against my chest. Her hand brushes against my side as she instinctively snuggles into me, her soft breaths warming the fabric of my shirt.

Ayesha's cousin notices this time. She glances at us briefly, then shares a quiet smile with her husband. They exchange some pleasantries with Ayesha and Farjaad before standing to leave.

"We'll let you all rest," the cousin says, giving a pointed look in our direction.

I nod stiffly, watching as they gather their things and head out the door. Mahnoor stirs slightly, mumbling something unintelligible before settling deeper into me.

Her hair falls over her face, the strands shifting with every small movement she makes. It bothers me more than it should—not being able to see her face clearly. Without thinking, I lift my hand and gently tuck the strands behind her ear, revealing her features once more. My fingers linger, brushing against the softness of her skin before I pull back.

I glance up to find Ayesha and Farjaad both watching me, their expressions a mixture of amusement and something I can't quite place. "It was probably annoying her," I say defensively, leaning back slightly to put some distance between myself and their judgmental stares.

Ayesha smirks. "We didn't say anything."

"Nothing wrong with doing so," Farjaad adds, his voice filled with fake innocence.

They exchange a glance, some silent conversation happening between them, and then Ayesha announces, "We're heading upstairs. Got to organise the baby gifts. Enjoy your evening."