Dhaagey: The Ties that Bind Us

54. warm, not cold

Author's Note: Oh look, it is me again with a super long 33-page chapter (16,885 words) where I indulge myself and write fluff and almost saxsux -- because when am I ever going to get the chance to write these almost saxsux scenes, hehehe. Hope y'all enjoy it as much as I did. See you on the other side!

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Murtasim was leaning against the driver's side door when she stepped out into the soft night air, the warm summer breeze curling strands of her wavy hair across her cheek. The black Range Rover gleamed under the moonlight, its windows tinted like secrets, its engine a quiet hum, waiting.

And there he was – careless, unbothered in that way only he could manage, sleeves rolled to his elbows, kurta slightly wrinkled, hair messy like he'd run his hands through it a thousand times. His beard was thicker these days, rough and soft in turns, and she hated how much she loved it. Hated how easily her heart skipped just seeing him standing there.

He looked up just as she approached, his eyes brightening the way they always did when they found hers. He reached for the door and opened it, a quiet little gesture that, on another man, might have felt performative. On him, it just felt like him. Thoughtful. His hand on the door, the other in his pocket, the corner of his mouth tugging upward.

But Meerab didn't smile.

She glared. A full-bodied, theatrical glare. Narrowed eyes, pinched lips. Arms crossed. Everything.

Murtasim blinked. "What did I do?"

She didn't respond, just swept past him and climbed in with a huff, pulling her dupatta tighter around herself as she settled into the passenger seat. The scent of the car surrounded her, the soft leather, the faint trace of his cologne, that warm, crisp scent that was just him.

"You know what you did," she muttered, chin tilted defiantly as she looked out the window.

He didn't close the door. Instead, he stepped between it and the frame, leaning in just enough to cast a shadow over her, to make her look at him. Close. Warm. Too close.

His fingers found her chin, tilting her face up gently until she had no choice but to meet his gaze. His touch was always careful, always sure, as if he could read the beat of her heart with just a brush of his skin.

"Meerab," he said softly, her name a word he had never managed to say without reverence.

She narrowed her eyes even further. "So now you remember Meerab?"

His lips curved into that boyish grin that had always been her undoing. She hated that smile. Hated how much she loved it. It crinkled the corners of his eyes and softened the stubborn line of his mouth, and even now, even as she glared, her heart fluttered like it always did.

"You can't remember something you never forget," he said.

She rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched. That was smooth. Infuriatingly smooth.

He tapped the tip of her nose playfully and grinned wider before closing the door with a soft click and jogging around to the driver's side. She watched him through the windshield, arms still folded, pout still firmly in place, pretending she didn't notice how her stomach flipped when he slipped into the seat beside her.

He glanced over. "Why are you pouting now?"

She turned her head, angling her body slightly away from him like a petulant child, her arms crossing tighter over her chest. "You didn't even miss me today, guess you enjoyed being a bachelor," she whined, and the sound of her own voice made her cringe because she sounded exactly like what she was – a girl in love, irrationally upset about a boy who had already done everything right except one thing: he hadn't said he missed her enough.