His Sabah

VIII

Sabah's wedding dress to the side. I love, love, love it!!! And, no that's not what Salim is wearing. Ignore the guy in the pic. Lol.

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Sabah wrung her fingers together, bidding her nerves to remain at bay and failing horribly. She couldn’t help it. After all, she was surrounded by extravagance and luxury and it was making her feel extremely out of place. Salim—she meant, her husband’s—room was beautiful. There were fancy futons and armchairs, rich fur carpets, a huge balcony with ornate doors draped with sheer, billowing curtains, and a breathtaking painting hanging from across the grand bed, taking up nearly the whole of the wall.

There was a glass door to her right and through it, Sabah could barely make out the silhouette of a large desk and TV. Other than that, everything in the smaller room was masked in darkness. Unlike it, the main bedroom, in which she had been sitting for nearly an hour now, was illuminated in brightness. Every lamp and light fixture around her had been lit, causing her to literally sparkle when the light caught the small sequins on her dress.

Sighing, she shifted slowly on the bed again, being careful not to mess up the silk sheets or rip her gown. Her legs and back were aching by this point, and the fact that she hadn’t moved very much all day didn’t help very much. Back in the wedding hall, she had been sitting like a statute for hours on end, hoping to get some relief when they came home. But, alas, here too, she was burdened to sit still for God knew how much longer.

But, it wasn’t just that which was making her nervous and annoyed. It was also the fact that Salim still hadn’t appeared. Where in the world could he be? Didn’t he realize this was his wedding night? The thought made Sabah blush. Now that she thought about it, maybe it was a good thing that he hadn’t come yet because, in all honestly, she was terrified. Her heart was racing a million miles a minute and she was sweating like crazy. What would even happen tonight? Would Salim even—

Suddenly, the door creaked open. Sabah felt her breathing stop. She stared wide-eyed at the door and then grabbed the edges of her dupatta frantically, pulling the heavy fabric down over her face and squeezing her eyes shut. Please just be Ami Jaan, please just be Ami Jaan, please just be—

“What the hell are you doing on my bed?”

Sabah flinched at the sharpness of his tone and opened her eyes. She gazed through the fabric covering her face and saw Salim standing at the foot of the bed, his expression hard and annoyed. She swallowed dryly and opened her mouth to speak, then realized he might not be able to hear her well past the dupatta. She lifted it up and pushed it back on her head, sighing in relief as fresh air entered her lungs.

“Um…Ami Jaan—”

“This isn’t your precious “Ami Jaan’s” room. It’s mine. Now, get off my bed.”

Shocked and hurt at the frigidity of his tone, Sabah nodded and quickly scrambled off the high mattress, her bare feet hitting the floor with a soft thud. The noise drew Salim’s attention and at the sight of her nonexistent shoes, he crinkled his nose in disgust and frowned.

“You got on my bed without shoes?” he asked, his voice filled with disbelief. Sabah felt her face begin to burn with embarrassment.

“I—um…I didn’t want to ruin your sheets,” she mumbled, looking away. Salim scowled at her, but said nothing. Instead, he turned his back and disappeared into the small room that connected to the bedroom, slamming the glass door behind him. Sabah winced at the sharp noise, feeling her hopes of a possibly fresh start and maybe even a chance at something of a relationship between the two of them fall apart. Clearly, he still hated her. Possibly even more than the first time they’d met.