Forever His

Chapter 72: Mrs Jafri's First Day

Shahmeer's POV: 

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Last night still feels like a dream—a weight I've carried for years finally lifted, but only a little. Her presence, her touch, her words... I don't think I'll ever forget.

I glance at the sofa, where Mahnoor is settling herself for the night. A strange ache stirs in my chest. Without thinking, I tap the empty side of the bed. She looks at me, surprised. I raise an eyebrow, silently asking. A small smile tugs at her lips, and she stands up, making her way toward me.

As she lies down beside me, I shift closer, resting my head between her breats. Her warmth surrounds me, and the gentle rhythm of her heartbeat lulls me. Her fingers comb through my hair, and for the first time in what feels like an eternity, I feel... safe. I don't know when I fall asleep, but it's the deepest, most peaceful sleep I've had in years.

                                                                              ___________________

When I wake up, the bed is empty.

For a moment, panic grips me. My chest tightens, and my mind spirals. Did she leave? Did I scare her away after everything I told her? The thought of her walking away—after she held me, after she stayed—it feels unbearable.

I sit up abruptly, scanning the room. "Mahnoor?" My voice cracks slightly. There's no response. I throw the blanket aside and rush out of the room, my heartbeat thundering in my ears.

Downstairs, I spot Kiran dusting the furniture. "Kiran," I call, my voice sharper than I intend. "Where's Mahnoor?"

She looks startled but quickly composes herself. "Noori ji is in the kitchen, Sir. She insistd on making your breakfast herself."

My breath releases in a rush I didn't realize I was holding. She's still here. Relief floods my veins, leaving me momentarily lightheaded.

I run a hand through my hair, trying to smooth it down, and quickly straighten my shirt in the hallway mirror. My reflection looks just as frantic as I feel, but I manage to compose myself before heading to the kitchen.

The aroma of something delicious greets me as I step inside. She's standing at the stove, her back to me, humming softly. The sight of her, so at ease in my home—our home—sends a strange warmth through me.

Without a word, I walk up behind her and wrap my arms around her waist. She lets out a soft gasp, startled, but doesn't turn around.

"Good morning, husband," she says with a teasing lilt, her voice light and sweet. "Did you sleep well?"

Hearing her call me that—her husband—it does something to me. I press a kiss to her shoulder. "Never slept better," I admit honestly. "What are you cooking? It smells amazing."

She smiles, still focused on the pan in front of her. "An English breakfast, but without the meat."

I rest my chin lightly on her shoulder, watching her work. "How about something sweet to go with it? Your breakfast always needs something sweet."

She laughs softly. "I'm surprised you noticed that."

"It's hard not to notice you," I say before I can stop myself.

Her hand falters for a moment, but she recovers quickly. I catch the hint of a blush creeping up her neck.

"Do you want me to help?" I offer, though I know my skills in the kitchen are... questionable at best.

She waves me off. "No, I want to do it myself."

"Okay, Gordon Ramsay," I tease, stepping back but keeping my eyes on her.