Tale In The Red Sand

Chapter Thirty - Six

She waited so long for this moment, her mind could deny all it wanted, but the moment she heard his name her heart knew what it desired. When fingers gently brushed against her upper arm, Hibaaq registered where she was, apparently she'd also lost the ability to think coherently. She didn't even notice her father approach her.

"How are you?" He asked, gently pulling her into his side to place a soft kiss on her temple. Hibaaq closed her eyes at the sweet gesture, smiling up at her concerned father. Peering at his face now made her realise just how much age had overshadowed his youthful features. She knitted her eyebrows together, saddened by looking at the lines that stretched across his forehead caused by his worry for her well-being. It was heartwarming just as it was sad, her father was only middle aged. Aging was a natural process, an inevitable element in human life, though she swore her father looked ten years younger only a year ago. The incident with her grandmother wasn't helping the mountain of stress that he was carrying on his shoulders. Hibaaq needed to show her father that she would be okay, and that he'd done more than she could've ever asked for, it was the least she could do. She would make sure of it.

"I'm alright. Dinner is ready by the way, I'm just going to freshen up." She told him, gesturing to the dining room behind her. She briefly peered at Ercole, who still idled by the front door, attentive as ever with a small grin painting his rosy lips.

"Are you sure?" Warsame pressed on. It had only been a couple of hours since she'd been discharged from the hospital, and yet she seemed so buoyant. He thought she might've been coming down with a fever that caused a bout of hysteria.

"Aabo, I promise I'm fine." Hibaaq reassured.

"Of course, I'm glad you are. Come on son, you must be starving."

Hibaaq didn't wait around after that, she excused herself and scurried up the stairs as quickly as she could manage before entering her bedroom. She frantically searched for a clean baati to wear, one she hadn't helped cook in or weed the grass on, of course, though she had to settle with a simple long sleeved shirt dress. It seemed all her baatis were inconveniently dirty. Once she was finished smoothing the tiny creases on her dress, Hibaaq came to the mirror to view her reflection, wanting to see if she looked adequate, but ended up scowling at her appearance. Her night at the hospital was evidently rough, her skin suffered the most. She was wholly surprised that no one bothered to mention the sizeable purple bruise that sat on the right side of her jaw. She remembered getting socked in the face, but the adrenaline must've been on an all time high for her not to feel the weighty pain. The bruise, her chapped lips, and her dark under eyes were ghastly alike. If it were any other day, Hibaaq might've laughed at her mien. For now, the one thing she could remotely fix were her chapped lips, so Hibaaq smeared on a healthy amount of lip balm that sat neglected on her dressing table.

She headed back downstairs, gripping the wooden banister, taking her time. Before she entered, however, Hibaaq quickly debated on feigning a headache and skipping dinner. The idea was tempting, and she almost took it but something within her wouldn't allow it. She promised herself she wouldn't run away, not again, not ever. How could she when majority of her life was spent doing just that. Her troubles were there so she could face them, and now the cause of her anxiety was sitting in the room before her. She didn't know where they stood, especially when he left the way he did, cold and unmoving. The memory not only dejected, it irked her. It was so disturbing encountering him those last days. He broke her heart, and yet had the gall to haunt her every waking moment.

Then Hibaaq entered the dining room with those provoking thoughts in mind. She was sure that it showed on her face, but she didn't feel like adjusting her expression. She took a seat beside her father, refusing to let their eyes meet because she knew the moment she did, her vexation would burn to ash and she didn't feel like handing him that leverage either. Not just yet.