Muhafiz-E-Khan (Tere Bin MeeraSim FF)

52 - Mohabbat

Love charged the air, it seemed, or maybe it was the sweet fumes of fresh mithai being fried and soaked somewhere on the estate that made the scene look rosey. It overpowered the perfume Irtaza wore and even distorted the scale of risk onboarded as he snook into Mariyum's room before the nikkah with tentative, uncharacteristically light steps.

Waiting for her guests to arrive, Mariyum's cupped hands, overflowing with fresh marigolds, lifted to her nose and she inhaled the sweet flowery petals, which were imbued with celebration.

When her curled lashes lifted slowly, he closed the door behind him and stood proudly as the vision of her groom in pearly gold. Shoulders wide, so expertly groomed that he appeared straight off the runway.

"You look so beautiful, Mariyum," Irtaza uttered in sweet admiration, leaning back onto the door as if his spine had weakened from being utterly lovesick.

She blinked in quick succession, not believing her eyes. "Yahan kya kar rahe ho? Daadi just left!" Despite the panic and scold, giddiness teemed in her throat.

Absolutely nothing could dull his mood. He circled the room to take prime view of his bride in burnt red and antique gold. "You're glowing from my love," he boasted, eagerly filling his appetite with the sight of her as if he was starved and she was the only source of energy that breathed life into him.

"It's a hydrating primer, actually," Mariyum giggled coyly, spinning in her drowning lengha that followed and rippled around around her elegantly. "And dewy highlighter."

"I disagree. You didn't look like that when we went dress shopping for Meerab's wedding — 3 saal guzar gaye. You looked innocent, and pretty back then, but the way your eyes shined were flirty...."

The flowers were placed down to free her hands and her cheeks blushed a deep shade of crimson as if they'd been pinched tightly. "I never flirted with you," Mariyum tutted teasingly, stepping closer with the flick of her heels to shift her skirt.

"You did," he whispered, closing the distance till he could make out the sparkle of each individual gem in her jhumke.

Mariyum gulped hard, the butterfly in the tummy incontrollable. "I can't help it if you found me crazy attractive."

"I do," he leaned close to confess in a breathy tone, tucking her hair back despite the updo set perfectly in place with a thick cast of hairspray. "Crazily, madly, irrevocably.... Attractive. And now, wifley..."

Desire swirled in his eyes and Mariyum heated with affection, seeing him for the first time as the intimate vision of her husband. He was tall, with the handsomeness of a model and the sharp mind of a surgeon, and all hers. "Abhi nikkah nahi hua. This is my bridal suite — you shouldn't be here."

They both knew it. If Murtasim found out of their clandestine meeting, a vein in his brain would burst, and then the rukhsati would be delayed further.

"Nikkah bhi ho jaeyga," he groaned impatiently. "You said you were bored while waiting around for guests. Maine socha ke main hi company dey dun."

More than taking her company, Irtaza just wanted to see her; Mariyum was adorned in bridal red, the sparkles of her attire were other-worldly. A fat chocker curled around her neck, encrusted with pure yellow diamonds that glowed, and bells of gold that chimed upon her collarbone. She humm'ed, the tune sultry and enticingly demure.

"You don't have cold feet, do you?" He quizzed her selective shyness.

The bells on Mariyum's décolletage jingled for decline. "The long engagement period was sufficient to decide if i'll say 'qubool hai' or not," she humoured herself.