Later that night, the Khan Haveli was once again bathed in the tranquil glow of the moon. Everything was still, save for the gentle rustle of curtains in the warm evening breeze. Meesam had been tucked into bed hours ago, and Murtasim and Meerab were finally alone, the chaotic events of breakfast long forgotten.
In their room, Murtasim leaned against the headboard, watching as Meerab busied herself with folding clothes. He caught her hand gently, pulling her toward the bed with a mischievous grin.
“Murtasim,” she chided, half-heartedly resisting as she felt herself being tugged into his embrace, “not again. Meesam couldn’t sleep last night, remember?”
“She’s asleep now,” he whispered, his breath warm against her ear, “and besides, we’ll be quieter this time.”
Meerab rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her. Meerab rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips as Murtasim pulled her closer, his arms wrapping around her waist. She playfully swatted his chest, her heart racing as she leaned into him, her guard slowly crumbling.
“Quieter, huh?” she murmured, her voice laced with skepticism. “We both know how that turned out last time.”
Murtasim chuckled, his lips grazing her temple. “This time, I promise, no furniture moving… just us.”
As their laughter softened into quiet whispers, the night seemed perfect. But what they didn’t know was that their daughter, Meesam, was still wide awake, lying in her bed and glaring at the ceiling.
The noises had started again — the same ones from the previous night. The creaking bed, the muffled sounds of her parents talking (or yelling, as she thought), and strange thudding noises. Her little mind ran wild with curiosity and frustration. She had had enough.
Throwing off her blanket, Meesam stomped out of bed, her tiny feet making barely a sound as she padded down the hall towards her parents’ room. She paused at the door, listening intently as the familiar creaking of the bed filled her ears once more.
They’re at it again!
Fed up, she threw the door open without knocking.
“Mama! Baba!” Meesam’s voice rang out, cutting through the intimate atmosphere like a knife.
Murtasim and Meerab froze, instantly pulling apart like guilty teenagers caught in the act. Their eyes darted to their daughter, standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips, her face scrunched up in annoyance.
“What… what are you doing here, beta?” Meerab stammered, scrambling to sit up properly and smooth her disheveled hair. Murtasim, equally flustered, quickly adjusted his shirt, trying and failing to look composed.
Meesam marched over to the bed, glaring up at them. “You two are so loud! I can’t sleep! Why do you keep moving the furniture at night?”
Meerab’s eyes widened in sheer mortification as Murtasim choked back a laugh. Not again…
“Beta…” Meerab began, her face flushing a deep shade of red, “we’re not… moving the furniture.”
Meesam tilted her head, confused. “Then what are you doing? The bed keeps creaking, and you were both making weird noises. Baba said you’d stop tonight!” she complained, crossing her arms in a show of stubbornness.
Murtasim cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure while hiding his amusement. “We were just… talking, sweetheart. And, uh… the bed creaks sometimes when we sit on it.”
Meerab elbowed him sharply, shooting him a look that screamed Don’t make it worse!
But Meesam wasn’t convinced. “Talking? You were yelling! Mama kept saying ‘No, stop!’ and Baba kept telling her to keep going!” she insisted.
Meerab’s face burned with humiliation, her pulse racing as she buried her face in her hands. She could not believe they were having this conversation with their six-year-old daughter. Ya Allah, why me?
Murtasim, on the other hand, was valiantly trying to keep a straight face, but the corners of his lips kept twitching upward. He knelt down in front of Meesam, placing his hands on her tiny shoulders.
“Meesam,” he said softly, his voice gentle, “sometimes grown-ups… uh… talk loudly when they’re… excited. But we didn’t mean to keep you up, and we’re sorry. Next time, we’ll be quieter, okay?”
Meesam blinked up at him, her brow furrowing. “Excited? About what?”
Meerab groaned from behind him, covering her face. Please, someone save me from this conversation.
Murtasim struggled to find the right words, shooting Meerab a pleading look, but she was too mortified to even look up. He sighed, ruffling Meesam’s hair gently. “Grown-up stuff, beta. You’ll understand when you’re older.”
Meesam huffed, clearly not satisfied with the answer. “Well, if you’re gonna do grown-up stuff, can you at least do it quietly? I need to sleep!”
Murtasim nodded earnestly. “Yes, yes, we promise, no more noise.”
Finally, somewhat appeased, Meesam gave a small nod and turned to leave. But before she did, she glanced back at them, her innocent eyes wide with concern. “Just don’t break the bed, okay? I heard it creaking really loud.”
And with that, she left the room, leaving her parents in stunned silence.
The moment the door closed, Meerab collapsed back onto the pillows, groaning in mortification. “I’m never showing my face again,” she mumbled, covering her face with her hands. “This is all your fault, Murtasim.”
Murtasim, still grinning, crawled back onto the bed beside her, pulling her into his arms. “Oh, come on,” he teased, his breath warm against her ear. “It’s not all bad. At least we got her to go back to sleep.”
Meerab glared at him half-heartedly, though a small smile tugged at her lips. “Next time, we really have to be quieter,” she muttered.
Murtasim chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. “Next time,” he promised, “we’ll move the furniture without waking anyone up.”
Meerab elbowed him again, though this time with far less force, her heart still racing from the embarrassment but now mixed with a sense of warmth that only Murtasim could bring her, even in the most awkward of moments.
