His Sabah

VII

Hellooo allllll. Sorry there hasn't been an update in a while. Just didn't feel like getting around to it for a while. Anyways, I know this chap's short but the next will definitely be longer. Promise! Also, Salim's house to the side. Hella, right? Lol. I wish I had a house like that but alhamdullilah this is why we have books to appease our imaginations ;)

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Let’s just get this over with,” Salim snapped, glaring at the papers laid out on the table before him. There was a pen resting just by his hand, and even though he had been the one impatiently barking orders at everyone all night to hurry things up, he was suddenly reluctant in grabbing it. In fact, this was probably the one and only thing he was hesitant about doing all night.

To him, this entire wedding, if that was even what it could be called, couldn’t be over with fast enough. His mother had been planning it ever since he had agreed to the arrangement a week after the whole fiasco at the mehndi. And now that the dreaded day was finally here, nearly a month later, he couldn’t wait to finally put it behind him.

As a result of his impatience and sour mood, he had been tapping his foot and scowling at everything and everyone all night. Especially the girl sitting next to him. However, when it came to signing the papers—the last step in the process before she and him were considered officially married—he felt nothing but anxiety and dread. Was he sure he wanted to do this? Did he really want to risk potentially ruining his life all because of a few guilt-inducing words from his mother? Was he even ready for marriage?

No. The answer was no. To everything. He wasn’t ready, he didn’t want it, and he sure as hell didn’t want her. Sabah. At the thought of her, he glanced to his left out of the corner of his eye. She was still sitting in the same position she had been in all night—head bowed, staring at her feet, hands folded in her lap, face half-covered by the heavily decorated red veil draped over her hair. The epitome of a classic Asian bride.

Scoffing internally, he averted his eyes from her and returned to staring forward, his jaw clenched angrily. God, how he was dreading being alone with her after this was all over. She probably still wouldn’t look up at him even then.

“Salim?” his name caused him to glance at his mother, who was standing off to his right, wringing her hands nervously in front of her. “The imam asked you something.”

Salim turned to look at the aging man sitting before him at the other end of the table. “I’m sorry. Yes, what is it?” he asked curtly. The man gestured down to the papers spread out between them and held up the pen.

“Sign here and here,” he said, pointing to two blank spaces on the first page of the thick pile. Salim swallowed and nodded, slowly taking the pen from the man’s outstretched hand. He looked down at the two lines and let out a shaky breath. He could feel the eyes of every person in the room—the witnesses, his mother, his “bride’s” parents, all acutely fixed on him. Their anxious, anticipating gazes were all boring holes into the top of his head, causing him to shift uncomfortably. He pulled on the jacket of his suit and moved closer to the edge of his seat.

“Salim,” his mother whispered quietly from beside him, moving closer to lay a hand on his shoulder. “Please.” He knew her voice had meant to come out as reassuring and gently prodding, but all he could hear in it was fear and anxiety. He nodded, his eyes still fixed on the papers, and tightened his grip around the pen.

Closing his eyes, he took one last deep breath and then pressed the tip of the pen against the paper. The room emitted a singular sigh of relief as he scrawled his signature on the two lines. The imam quickly turned the page and he signed again. Finally, after what seemed like a hundred signatures later, he was finally allowed to set the pen down. He let out an exhausted breath and leaned back in his seat, resting his hands on his knees.

“Okay, missy,” the imam said, turning his attention to Sabah as he reorganized the documents. “Your turn.”

Salim looked sideways at the girl and saw that she had lifted her head just enough to meet the old man’s eyes. From his place beside her, he could see only her profile and he had to admit, she had quite a lovely one. A pretty, pointed nose, full lips, and a small, cute little chin. There was also a slight indent in her cheek that indicated a dimple when she smiled. Suddenly, he found himself wondering what she looked like when she smiled. Probably really nice.

Wait. What was he thinking? He was still supposed to hate this girl. Scowling in frustration at himself, he turned his face away from her and glared at the imam as he extended the pen he had used to sign towards her.

“I just need your name in these spots, please,” he said, indicating the places with his finger. She nodded and looked down at the blanks, the pen gripped tightly in one henna-decorated hand. There were bangles adorning both her wrists, tinkling together prettily as she lowered her hand towards the papers. Just as they had been watching him, the many people gathered in the room now watched her with the same intensity they had gazed at him with.

Her pen hovered over the first blank, millimeters away from making contact with the paper. Along with the others, Salim felt his breath, too, catch in his throat in suspense. He watched as the pen finally, achingly pressed down on the document, creating a perfect round dot of ink. Then, suddenly, it was being lifted up, just enough for him to notice and meet her eyes in confusion.

At the sight of her expression, the slight annoyance he had begun to feel at her drawn-out signing faded. She had turned her face towards him completely now and was looking up at him with a question in her lovely eyes. Her eyebrows were furrowed together in confusion and fear. He stared back at her blankly, not knowing what to do or what she wanted.

 He looked down at the paper and the pen held over it, wavering in her grip. Suddenly, he realized exactly what she must be feeling and, no matter how much he didn’t like her, he felt bad. After all, she wasn’t the one who was truly at fault here. Right?

Sighing internally, he looked back up at her, meeting her beautiful eyes, wide with conflicted emotions, and nodded discretely. At the gesture, her eyes widened even more—if that was even possible—and her lips parted slightly in shock. The action drew his eyes, only for a second, and then he quickly looked back up at her again. A soft, grateful smile had appeared on her face and she had averted her gaze and turned her face away, back down, bent over the documents.

He watched as she pressed the pen back to the paper and elegantly signed her name above the blanks, sealing their marriage.