Hayat Azhar
Sameer was sick.
A part of me said he deserved it.
The other part disagreed and decided to make me feel guilty about him being sick.
I couldn't help but think he'd caught a cold because I had accidentally drenched him in the garden the other day.
But on a more positive note, I could avoid him since he'd be locked in his room, resting up and regaining his energy which he'd waste by being the impudent little kitten he was.
Or so I thought.
I sighed in exasperation, holding the plastic bag with Sameer's medicines inside which dadi told me to fetch from the driver.
Rounding the hallway, I almost crashed into aunty Zohra but managed to jerk back on time.
"Are you blind?" She gasped in surprise. "Use your useless eyes."
Her unexpected hostility stunned me. "I'm sorry."
She flared her nose, looking me down. "What do you have there?"
I peered at the pharmacy bag in my grip and pursed my lips. "Some medicine for Sameer."
My words made her narrow her eyes. "What did you say?"
Did I say something wrong?
"Uh...I said it's some medicine for Sameer dadi told me to fetch from the driver," I hesitated.
In the next second, she pushed my shoulder back, startling me. "Look at this mannerless brat. How dare you call him by his name? You're forgetting your place."
I could only gape at her, staggered at the harshness and belittlement her behavior held towards me.
"If we're nice to you, it doesn't mean you can say whatever you want. You are a servant here. And it's 'saheb' and 'saheba' to the servants, understand?"
My chest tightened.
I should know my place.
"Yes, saheba."
She sneered in disgust and shoved me out of her way. I gawked at her retreating figure in shock, shaken up by her abusive action.
All that because I was a servant in their house?
My eyes burned and I gritted my teeth, holding the tears back. My shift had barely started and I wanted to go home already.
"You got the medicine?" Aunty Tabassum looked up when I went to the kitchen. "Give this to me and bring water to Sameer's room."
She left with the pharmacy bag and I turned to pour water into a jug with a heavy heart before following her trail.
Reaching the second floor, I glanced up to knock on the open door when the sight ahead made me pause.
Dadi sat beside Sameer on the bed. He was tucked away in his plushy blankets. Only his head was poking out, his eyes closed.
"My poor baby," she cooed. "He's so fragile. Look how easily he gets sick. I told you to take care of him, Tabassum! As soon as he steps out of the house, he returns out of sorts."
Aunty Tabassum took dadi's unkind words silently and poured the syrup into a spoon.
"Open up." She held the spoon to Sameer's mouth and he swallowed it begrudgingly.
His face twisted into a disgusted grimace and he scrunched his nose, his eyes clenching shut.
"This tastes horrible," he whined babyishly and subconsciously, the corner of my mouth quirked up. Huh. So even he couldn't bear the bitterness of medicines despite being so bitter himself.
My smile dropped in an instant when his sage colored eyes jolted to me and his expression changed in alarm.
Great.
Stepping into the room, I mentally prepared myself to be insulted again while walking up to the side table and another flood of sadness collected in my gut.
I cautiously glanced towards Sameer.
He was already looking at me.
His gaze was different than his usual anger-filled ones; it didn't even seem condescending. His eyes appeared questioning and slightly annoyed, but not hostile.
Why?
Was it because he sensed I was already in low spirits?
But that wasn't like him.
Whatever the reason for his silence was, I couldn't care less to find out. So I left the room.
I went to iron some of dadi's clothes and cleaned her shoes. Her room's furniture needed dusting and by the hour I was done, it was time for her tea.
After that, I'd be done with today's shift and head home.
But apparently, aunty Tabassum had other plans for me.
"Oh, girl." Her voice halted my movements and I turned to her. "Go upstairs and check on Sameer. See if he's awake and needs anything. And check his fever too while you're at it."
"Uh..." I hesitated, not knowing how to turn her request down. It wasn't a request to begin with. I was given an order. "Okay..."
Letting out a sigh, I dragged my feet along the carpeted floor up to the stairs, convincing myself that this would be the last difficult task before I could go home. I rapped my knuckles against his door and waited for him to allow me in.
When I didn't receive any response, I had half a mind to leave but decided against it, in case doing so backfired at me. Instead, I clicked open the door and was met by the dark.
My heart started to race. I took small steps toward his bed and switched on the lamp on the nightstand.
Instant relief coursed through me when I saw his eyes were closed.
He was sleeping.
First task, done. Now on to the second one...
Conveniently, there was a strip thermometer on the side table and I picked it up. But as I held it above his forehead, I paused.
If he woke up and caught me, I would be dead, right?
Clearing my throat gently, I grimaced in caution. "Sameer er—saheb?" I added, recalling aunty Zohra's words from earlier.
He didn't twitch. He was still lost in his slumber and he looked... distressed?
His eyebrows were deeply furrowed, his face was pinched and he was drenched in sweat.
Holding the thermometer above his forehead, I could feel heat being radiated from his body.
This guy was burning.
I carefully placed the thermometer over his forehead and his eyebrows relaxed, followed by his expression softening into a relaxed one.
"Huh. Affection starved much?" I mumbled to myself and as I subliminally continued to stare at him, I noticed how different he looked while sleeping. He appeared almost innocent.
Of course he would. People looked different when they were sleeping. It betrayed how they were in real life, when they were fully awake and aware of everything they did.
But he actually looked gentle and adorable while sleeping. I couldn't believe it.
I scowled to myself and removed the strip, surprised to see his high fever. He really was burning.
No way. Did I feel...bad?
This was unfair. Being too kind for your own good was unfair. Having a heart that forgave way too easily was unfair.
I'd always been like this; people would mistreat me and I'd hate them but then if something bad happened to them, I'd feel bad and forgive them until they mistreated me again and the cycle went on.
I wanted to break free from this.
I hated Sameer. But right now, I felt bad for him. He looked weak and vulnerable, it actually made me feel sorry.
Biting back a groan, I ran a hand across my face and spun on my heel to leave when something unexpected happened.
"Don't leave me."
A voice drenched in despair echoed from behind, I barely recognized it.
My heart jumped up and I froze in my spot. I slowly twisted my head to look at Sameer.
"Dad..."
My eyes widened. He was talking in his sleep. And he was calling for his dad. But his words; they made me leap back to a memory that was etched deep in my mind.
"Dad...!"
"Dad, don't leave us."
"Please."
A chorus of broken voices echoed in my ears, the picture of him laying in his kafan (shroud) flashed in my eyes, filling my heart with the same bitter feeling from that day.
I gulped down the rising lump in my throat and my mind raced back to the day that continued to haunt me.
It was a sunny morning. I could hear Sania squealing in fright as I chased her down all the way to the kitchen where my father was sitting at the table with a cup of tea and newspaper while my mother prepared breakfast.
"Mamaaa!" Sania screeched, running up to mom and hiding behind her, earning a displeased frown.
But when I tried to grab Sania, she turned to glare at me. "Oho! What are you two doing?"
"She ate my chocolates!" I threw a finger at Sania and she flashed mom an innocent look.
"That's a bold move considering a police officer is sitting right here." Dad shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips.
Hearing him taking my side, mom decided to defend Sania. "She's your little sister, it's okay. You get more pocket money than her, buy yourself chocolates again."
"It won't be the same!" I protested with a scowl. "Those chocolates were mine."
"Yeah, yeah they were so special because Zohaib bhai gave them to her." Sania wiggled her eyebrows in mischief and I glared at her.
"You little—" I jerked forward to smack her mouth shut and she shrieked, clinging to mom.
"Stop this." She reprimanded us and then turned to dad who was watching us in amusement. "Azhar, tell your girls to stop."
He chuckled and turned to hold my hand. "Come on beta, sit down."
I grumbled and obeyed, taking a seat beside him.
"Stop frowning. I'll get you some chocolates on the way back today," he promised, not knowing that he won't be able to do that.
"And you, Sania," he turned to her. "Stop taking things that aren't yours without permission."
She folded her arms. "Sorry..."
I huffed, halfheartedly accepting her apology while mother put a sizzling paratha on my plate before moving to Sania's plate.
"So, have you decided what you want to pursue for higher studies?" Dad asked me before continuing, "I think with your marks, you can try for medicine."
"Exactly, she should become a doctor." Mom supported the idea. "At least then I wouldn't need to visit those clinics every month."
I peered down, playing with the edge of the tablecloth. "Actually... I was thinking of BBA."
At my words, mom shot me a disapproving look and dad raised his brows. "That doesn't sound bad either. Any reason for that?"
"It's because that's what Zohaib bhai studied," Sania beat me to it and I threw her a warning glare. She was going to get smacked later.
Dad gave me a knowing smile and turned to his newspaper, leaving Sania and I to throw glares at one another.
The sun rays filtered through the window and fell on his face, accentuating his manly features.
His eyes scanned the morning newspaper as he raised the cup of steaming chai to his lips.
"Shazain Sardar," his tender voice rang in my ears. I looked at him in question. "It seems a new menace has been born."
"Don't worry about him," Sania quipped in excitement. "When I grow up, I'll help you catch the bad guys. I wanna be a police officer like you. I heard they also make lots of money, although for some reason you don't. You must be doing it wrong."
My mother passed my father a worried look, concern evident in her eyes.
Sania was a kid. She didn't know the reason we weren't filthy rich was because our father was an honest man, a faithful policeman who couldn't be bribed. I felt pride whenever I looked at dad, knowing deep within me that he was the best father I could ask for.
"What if there's something better than catching bad guys?" he proposed to her. "Making sure there is no bad guy to catch."
Sania's eyes narrowed. "How?"
He patted her head. "Education is very important and it is not an easy task. Those who educate people the right way can help countless individuals from from going astray. Becoming a good professor is a greater job."
"How much money will I make?"
Her question made my father shake his head while mother scolded her, lecturing her on how money wasn't the most important thing in choosing a profession.
That morning, my father had promised to take us out to the park. He promised to share a meal at a nice restaurant.
But that very evening, we lost him.
He was killed with his own gun.
A family traveling in a rickshaw was ambushed. He was off duty. But he went up to them and tackled the man to the ground. What he didn't know was that the rickshaw driver was in on the plan. He snatched my father's pistol from his strap and shot him four times. Then, both men fled.
The police never caught them.
We couldn't sit in a rickshaw after that day. But as life had it, I was forced to start traveling in a rickshaw again since it was the cheapest form of transportation and I had to go to the university everyday.
In the next few seconds, it felt like my body was moving on its own. I didn't know when I had walked forward or when I had crouched down by the bed.
Sameer was whispering things and I found my hand reaching up and resting on his chest, giving him gentle pats.
"It's okay." I whispered, my strained voice sounding foreign to my own ears. "Everything is okay. You're okay. I'm here with you."
Despite everything that he had done to me, I couldn't help but sympathize with him because what he felt was something I was all too familiar with.
So I whispered to him the words of comfort I wished someone would had whispered to me when I had no choice but to take care of my mother and my sister after my father passed away.
But I never got to hear them and now it felt like an obligation to make sure nobody felt as alone and as helpless as I did back then.
Not even the guy who I hated from the bottom of my heart.
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