His Sabah

IX

When Salim woke, it was to the sight of a girl lying on his couch. Correction, a girl lying on his couches. Probably sometime during the night, she had pulled them together so that they were both now facing each other. The small table that had sat between them had been pushed aside and all the pillows that had previously decorated the couches had been thrown in the middle of the makeshift bed. She was curled on top of them, sound asleep.

Salim felt guilt crowd his chest at the sight of her. She didn’t even have a blanket. Sighing, he pushed himself into a sitting position and gazed at her sleeping form, her back turned towards him. It was rising and falling gently with her breathing and her dark hair was splayed across one of the couch’s armrests. Slowly, he got off his plush and comfortable—not to mention warm—bed and made his way over to her, his guilt rising with each step. He stopped when he was near enough to see her face and the sight of it made him smile despite himself.

She was not a pretty sleeper.

Her mouth was slightly open and the hair framing her face was sticking up wildly in all directions, making her look like she had been shocked or electrified. Nonetheless, it was adorable.

Wait. What in the world was he thinking? She was not adorable and he did not just think that. Shaking his head, he turned and walked swiftly towards the door. He was halfway into the hall when he realized she was still without a blanket. Sighing heavily, he walked back to his bed and grabbed the comforter still lying on it in a jumbled mess, dragging it towards her still sleeping figure.

As quietly as he could, he shook it out and then covered her with it, careful not to wake her in the process. As he was pulling away, his fingers got caught in a few strands of her hair, making her mumble and swat his hand away harshly.

“Fuck,” he muttered, grimacing and pulling away quickly. He glared down at her, nursing his now stinging hand. She’s even more annoying in her sleep, he thought, shaking his head as he turned and left the room, careful not to slam the door on his way out.

Downstairs, his mother was busy in the kitchen, talking to herself, the cook, and the maids all at once. When she saw him, a wide, beaming smile broke out on her face and she ran towards him, her arms outstretched. Salim winced when she pulled him against her in a tight, suffocating embrace and squealed sharply in his ear.

“Oh, I’m so happy to see you!” she cried as she released him. He mustered a feeble smile and nodded politely at her, stumbling back from the aftermath of her hug.

“You, too,” he said questioningly, not knowing what else to say. His mother’s smile remained intact as her eyes moved away from his face to something behind him.

“Where’s Sabah?” she asked, craning her neck to see beyond him. Salim brushed past her and walked towards the table.

“She’s still sleeping,” he said matter-of-factly as one of the maid’s pulled out a chair for him. He nodded his head at her as he sat down and she gave a little bow in return before scurrying away. Not a moment after she had gone, another one took her place, a large plate in her hands. She set it down gently in front of him and then repeated what her co-worker had done: gave a little bow and ran off. Salim frowned after her. He hadn’t even been able to nod his thanks to this one…whatever her name was.

The help had been around ever since he had been a small boy, and yet they still moved around the house like terrified mice. Granted, he could be a little snappy and harsh sometimes and he still hadn’t learned any of their names, but he had always been lenient and understanding with them. He paid them well, gave them more than enough vacation days a year, and even let them take breaks. Yet, still, to this day, they were all afraid of him, something which never failed to confuse him.