Dhaagey: The Ties that Bind Us [Tere Bin FF]

67. a family

Author's Note: Hold on y'all, I am about to get emotional. I don't even know how long this journey has been. At least three years, maybe more. I know I started writing Dhaagey before my baby was born, and somewhere along the way life happened, I paused, and it took me a long time to come back to it. But somehow, through all of that, this story stayed. And so did so many of you. Thank you for that! Thank you for sticking around, for loving this Murtasim and Meerab the way you did, for holding onto this story even when I couldn't always show up for it the way I wanted to!

And now... this is it. The end. Or at least, the kind of ending that feels right for them, the soft fade to black, the happily ever after that isn't loud or dramatic, but steady and full and deeply rooted. The kind where you just know they'll keep choosing each other, over and over again, in all the small, quiet ways that matter.

It's always a little bittersweet to let something like this go. But I hope these final chapters, these glimpses into their future, have left you feeling warm, satisfied, and certain of one thing above all else: They are still in love. They will always be in love. And they will always keep loving each other. Thank you for being here until the very end 🤍

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Murtasim had negotiated deals worth millions with less tension than this.

He had never realized how loud silence could be until he was trying to keep three children quiet in the middle of the night.

"Quiet," he whispered.

"I am quiet," Meesam whispered back, loudly.

He closed his eyes briefly.

Behind her, Maahir was attempting to climb onto the kitchen counter with the determined recklessness of a three-year-old who had no concept of gravity, while Maira sat cross-legged on the marble island, carefully pulling leaves off a flower steam.

"Maahir," Murtasim said under his breath, reaching out blindly and catching the back of his shirt just before he slipped. "You will fall."

"I won't," Maahir whispered.

"You will."

"I won't, I am Spwider-Man!"

He lifted him anyway, setting him firmly onto the counter. "Spider-Man, please sit here."

Maahir sat.

For approximately two seconds.

Then reached for the bouquet.

"No," Murtasim caught that too, exhaling slowly through his nose. "That is for Mama."

"Mama wikes flowas," Maira offered helpfully, still pulling petals off one.

Murtasim looked at her.

Then at the slowly balding stem in her hand.

"...Yes," he said carefully. "Mama likes flowers that still have petals, Maira."

She blinked at him.

Then looked down at the damage.

"Oh."

Meesam, meanwhile, had taken charge of the operation in the way only a six-year-old eldest daughter could, with complete authority and absolutely no actual control.

"Baba, I need scissors," she whispered urgently.

"There are scissors right there, Mee-Mee."

"Those are for paper."

"...We are cutting paper."

She sighed, deeply disappointed in him.

"No, Baba. I need the special scissors."