| Hawaaon Ke Paighaam | Messages Of The Wind

| The Yacht |

Jism ke samandar mein
Ik leher jo thehri hai
Isme thori harkat honay do...

Splash! Meerab watched the pebble skip on the surface of the water until it disappeared into its dark depths. The gentle sea breeze passed through, creating ripples on the water's moonlit surface. A shiver ran down her body and she felt goose bumps pop up on her arms. Running a hand down the silk of her sleeves, Meerab took a deep breath; the weather was pleasant, but somehow being on the open water was making her feel chilly.

If peace could've been a moment, it would've been this; they said the water was a formidable enemy, but its deceptive stillness had a seductive beauty which put a blanket of tranquillity over Meerab's heart.

Though never would she have imagined that she'd be standing on a multimillion-pound yacht somewhere in the Persian Gulf in the middle of the night; it was too grand a scenario, but she was rapidly finding out that nothing was too grand when it came to her husband.

Despite having grown up in luxury and having been surrounded by the Khan wealth all her life, Meerab was somewhat in awe of just how much wealth Murtasim had accumulated; his palatial penthouse, or what she'd seen of it that one night, this yacht, the way he seemed to have flourishing businesses even here in the Middle East and how everyone waited hand and foot on him; it screamed immense privilege, and such privilege was almost always accompanied by an outrageously spectacular net-worth.

A temporary pause in the breeze flowing from behind her had the hair on her neck rising. A moment later, she felt his warm heat as he came to stand behind her. She didn't know how he did it again and again, but his presence enveloped her without any physical touch; Meerab didn't know when her innate response to Murtasim had blossomed from innocent consciousness to this abdomen-tightening, breath-hitching and mind-boggling business which had started recently; it was turning out to be an inconvenience actually. What did one do with these feelings when the recipient was one's own estranged husband, who they had no grand love story with?

In the time taken for Meerab to yet again rearrange her newfound feelings, Murtasim had come to stand beside her on the edge of the deck. Looking down at her, he felt his face involuntarily soften; a reaction he had now come to associate exclusively with his wife. The crown of her head shone in the moonlit night, and certain highlighted parts of her face shimmered from the low-lighting on the deck.

Murtasim Khan could safely say that tonight, finally, he was able to breathe easy. He could look at his wife in the way she deserved to be admired, and other than a slight confusion at how fast his feelings had changed gears, all he felt was the mystique and awareness which came with surprising, newfound passion. It felt exhilarating; no more restraint, no more shifting of the eyes when his thoughts entered dangerous territory and most importantly, no more feeling like she deserved better than to have her life be changed in such drastic way just for him. The last point stemmed from the confidence that they could make this work. Their marriage didn't have to be tepid; Murtasim was fast becoming aware that it could just as easily be molten lava, if only they'd breach the distance created between them and let the slow burn finally singe the surface.

She turned to him with a smile which was in equal parts warm and cautious.

"Paani hai, yacht hai, hum hain, lekin Arabic coffee kahan hai?" her voice was teasing.

"On the way. Tab tak ek aur kaam hai."

When she raised eyebrow, her eyes sparkling, he reached behind and grabbed something from the deck chair. Meerab's brows knitted together as he held her arm and pulled her closer to place something on her head. Then turning her around, he led her to the lounge area in the middle of the deck, coming to stand in front of a floor length mirror on one of the makeshift walls. A delighted chuckle escaped Meerab as she looked at herself.