Pairing: Major Iqbal x Yasmin (OC)
Synopsis: Yasmin learns that all her worries and silly crying can be handled by one person. Her husband, Iqbal.
Word count: 1018-ish words
Warnings: noneeee pure fluff, just some orthodox thoughts mentioned.
Authors note: i've tried to make this one a bit longer than the last two and am still pretty insecure about my writing skills so please bear with me :,) anyway enjoyyy!!
“Do you really have to go?” Yasmin mumbled, toying with the small tassel of her red dupatta as she stood by the dresser where she was looking at her man, known to the world as Major Iqbal, getting ready to leave as he buttoned the cuffs of his uniform.
She never asked him to stay back or complain about the ungodly times he had to leave. At the time of their Nikkah, she knew, as the wife of the most respected member of ISI and Pakistani politics, she simply won’t have any choice. She always understood and never demanded his undivided attention, no matter how the loud the silence would be after she watched his car drive away. Sometimes she would sit by the door for hours, unable to bear the dullness of the house.
Today however, she really tried to let him go silently, suppressing her emotions like always; it wasn’t even a special day like an anniversary or birthday. Just an ordinary day. But maybe It was just…a wife tired of letting her husband first belong to the world and then her.
She missed her husband’s smirk, as he finished cuffing his uniform, looking at her through the mirror “Finally the begum speaks, hm?” deep down Iqbal felt a pang of guilt too, every time he left the warmth and softness of his Yasmin to go back to the brutality of his world, which was the only thing he knew before her. At times he silently wished she’d ask him to stay back or maybe throw a tantrum, but of course his ever-understanding begum wouldn’t. So today, where she barely spoke and refused to tell him what was wrong, He was glad she finally let her sweet voice fall on his ears.
The thing was, they both were cuddling on the couch, because Yasmin was bit clingier than usual (not like Iqbal was complaining) when his phone rang, few words exchanged and the words Yasmin wish won’t be uttered- “I need to go, jaan”.
And that’s how they ended up near the dresser.
“Its not like I’m ignoring you, Iqbal I just..”
Iqbal turned to her now, fully dressed and ready to go, but he needed to check on her first. He gently placed his hands on her hips, his thumb gently soothing her. “Finish your sentences, pretty girl”
Yasmin gulped, looking away “I.. wanted you stay home today” her voice growing fainter with the words.
Iqbal sighed, not in frustrated or tired way, but a in a “husband-trying-hard- not-to-cave-into-his-pouting-wife”
“And I want you to talk to me, princess. You’ve barely spoken all day while you usually love to talk my ear off. I need to know what’s goin’ in that brain of yours. I can't leave knowing my begum is not feeling her best”
God, why did this ruthless major have to be the sweetest with her? She knew, brushing it off is not going to happen, her husband is the literal expert of getting people to open their mouths.
“uhmisjus’onmyreoids”
“….darling what-“
Yasmin flushed, and was about to leave from just sheer embarrassment-
“Are you on your period?”
okay, okay. Yasmin knew this was not the 1800s where the female menstrual cycle was a shameful topic, but the way she grew up, her mum always hushing the 14-Year old Yasmin about the topic whenever males were even around. Naturally it was made taboo for her then. And to tell her husband something she never talked about with her own father was.. uncomfortable. What if he actually finds it disgusting? What if he gets awkward? What if-
“Yasmin.”
“yes?” she quickly answered
He wordlessly picked her up, making her squeal
“I-Iqbal! Put me down!-“
He gently put her down on the sofa, and knelt and made eye contact with her, making her tap his shoulder, telling him to get up
“Iqbal! Please get up why are you kneeling?- its not-”
“What kind of man would I be if can’t kneel Infront of my cute, embarrassed, kind begum, hm?”
“Iqbal..”
“that’s why you’ve been so clingy and a bit moody hm?”
Yasmin looked away.
His fingers rose, gently turning her chin making her eyes look at him. He understood this habit of hers, she’d always not make eye contact when she was embarrassed or felt small at times. He didn’t like his wife thinking low of herself, it was simply unacceptable.
“The last person you should be scared to talk about blood is me darling.”
that earned a soft smile which made his cold heart melt every time.
he continued, tenderly brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face, “I need you to know that something so natural is not something to be ashamed of, jaan. I’ll always be here to listen to you, no matter how small or embarrassing it might me. Never make yourself small to fit into a space which doesn’t deserve you. And a man who finds these natural things shameful doesn’t deserve to be called a man.”
And them it came. The lip tremble, the tears forming in those pretty eyes and small sniffles. Iqbal rose a bit, enveloping her into his shoulder where she scrunched up his uniform and held him tight.
Maybe it was the hormones, but she knew it was her husband’s words. His straightforwardness; He always knew what to say, when to say and what she needed. She pulled back, and kissed him. Pouring what she wanted to say through her kiss. She wasn’t the best with putting her own feelings into words but she could love just as fiercely as he could, hers was just more subtle.
“There she is, my crying princess.” Iqbal smiled, wiping her tears away with his rough thumbs.
she softly hit his chest, smiling slightly. She looked at the time and he should have definitely left by now, so she stood up, hand on his forearms to make him stand too. He did, towering over her now.
“You’re getting late Iqbal”
he sighed, nodded. He solemn was late, but she needed him first. He’s left her countless times for work, going late one day won’t hurt.
she toyed with his buttons, “How about.. you.. try coming home early, bring me some shawarmas for my cravings, and we’ll have a movie night?”
He smiled. He was proud of her for asking her what she wanted too, not just adjusting for his schedule
“Anything else, my begum?” She smiled, pretending to think, her hands linking behind his neck, making his hands automatically shifting on her waist.
“Hmm.. how about.. a foot massage?”
he grinned, “As my madam wishes.”
HIEEEEEEEE SO HOW WAS IT POOKIES? I HOPE YALL SOMEWHAT ENJOYED IT ISTG I FEEL THE MOST SINGLE DURING MY PERIOD SO HERE I WAS FULFILLING MY SCENARIOS
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