Jaan-e-Azlan❤

39

Morning crept in gently, as if it didn’t want to disturb them.

Soft sunlight filtered through the curtains, settling across the room in pale gold. Mantasha stirred, her body warm, relaxed—safe.

For a moment, she didn’t move.

Then she realized where she was.

Her head rested on Azlan’s shoulder.

His arm was still around her, solid and familiar, holding her the way he always had—only now, it felt different. Closer. Deeper.

Carefully, she lifted her face.

Azlan’s eyes were closed.

He looked calm, unguarded. Younger, somehow. The seriousness he carried so effortlessly during the day was absent, replaced by a softness she rarely got to see.

She found herself staring.

Azlan felt it.

The slight shift of her weight. The pause in her breathing. The way her attention settled on him.

He stayed perfectly still.

Didn’t open his eyes. Didn’t give her a reason to retreat.

Mantasha’s fingers rose hesitantly and brushed against his cheek—so lightly it barely registered as a touch. Curious. Affectionate.

Azlan’s chest filled with something warm and overwhelming.

Her fingertips lingered, tracing the line of his jaw, then slid into his hair, smoothing it back gently, as if memorizing the feel of him.

This is it, he thought quietly. This is when she’s not thinking. Not holding back.

She didn’t know he could feel every second of it. She didn’t know he was fully awake.

Her heart softened as she looked at him, something settling inside her—something she didn’t yet have words for.

Slowly, she lowered her head again, resting it back on his shoulder. Her arm curled around his, hugging it close, instinctive and sure.

As if that was where she belonged.

Azlan nearly lost his breath.

The simple certainty of her touch told him everything he needed to know.

She loved him.

She just hadn’t realized it yet.

And the thought sent a quiet, unstoppable joy through him—so strong it left him lightheaded. He had cherished her since the day she was born, guarded her without ever questioning why.

But this—

This was different.

This was the future unfolding gently in his arms.

His grip tightened just enough to keep her there, careful not to wake her further. He let himself feel it fully—the warmth, the closeness, the truth he had waited so long for.

Take your time, Misha, he thought, smiling inwardly. I’m not going anywhere.

And as she settled against him again, breathing slow and even, Azlan stayed still—awake, content, and quietly over the moon.

The morning sun spilled fully, Mantasha stretched lightly, brushing her hair back, still feeling the warmth of the night and the quiet comfort of Azlan’s presence.

Azlan appeared behind her, “You’re up early,” he said softly, though his eyes held a teasing spark.

“Early?” she replied, smirking. “You woke up before me, Mr. Business.”