Bound to the Don

chapter 6

Salma

    

I've been glued to Babai's bedside, reluctant to leave his side. Perhaps it's because I'm afraid something might happen if I'm not here. Mamai had stepped out to fetch some food, but the thought of eating now feels unappealing. I've had no appetite until now, but I know I must eat to avoid falling ill, especially since I have a severe stomach ulcer.

The door creaked open, and Mamai entered, carrying two bags. She set them down on the table and sat beside Baba's bed, where he lay fast asleep. "Salma, please move aside. I need to wake your dad and feed him his meal," Mamai said, unpacking the food from the bags.

Mamai took my place beside Baba's bed and arranged the food on the table.

Mamai handed me a simple meal of bread and soup, her eyes pleading with me to make do with it. "Salma, I'm sorry, but the money was tight," she said, her voice laced with a mix of apology and concern. I assured her it was fine, and I wasn't in the mood for eating anyway. The truth was, I had been feeling anxious all day, and the thought of food hadn't been appealing to me. But I didn't want to worry Mamai, so I forced a smile and said, "Thank you, Mamai. This is enough for me."

I took the food and sat down on the armrest near the door, trying to muster up some enthusiasm for the meal. As I ate slowly, savoring the soup and soft bread, I couldn't help but think about Baba's condition. He had been ill for a while now, and it seemed like his health was deteriorating by the day. I felt a pang of sadness and worry, but I pushed it aside and focused on finishing my meal.

Meanwhile, Baba finished his meal and took his medications, his eyes fixed on me with a weak but loving smile. I smiled back, trying to reassure him that everything would be okay. However, my stomach soon began to churn, and I felt a wave of unease wash over me. I suspected the soup might be the culprit, but I couldn't be sure.

"Mamai, I need to use the restroom right away. My stomach is really acting up," I exclaimed, rushing out of the room without waiting for her response. I could feel my heart racing and my palms growing sweaty as I hurried to the bathroom, hoping to make it there before things got any worse.

I was in a frantic state, my urgency to reach the toilet clouding my judgment. I wasn't watching where I was going, and before I knew it, I collided with something solid. A pained groan followed, "Cazzo! (F***)Can't you watch where you're going? Arghh!" My heart sank as I realized I hadn't bumped into a wall, but a person.

As I looked up, I met the angry gaze of a young man, his eyes blazing with irritation. He clutched his right arm, which was soaked in blood, and I felt a wave of nausea wash over me. "Oh my word, I'm so sorry, sir! Wallah, I didn't see you there, please forgive me!" I exclaimed, hoping to appease him and hasten my escape.

The young man's glare only intensified, making me flinch. My stomach growled again, and this time, I couldn't hold it in any longer. With a hasty apology, I pushed past him and sprinted to the restroom. The young man's unforgiving stare lingered in my mind as I fled.

I burst into the restroom and collapsed onto the toilet seat, shaking uncontrollably. The soup had clearly been a bad choice, and I couldn't wait for the ordeal to be over.

As I walked back to Papa's ward, I spotted Omar at the reception, chatting with a lady. I began to approach him, but my path was blocked once again by the same angry-looking man I had bumped into earlier. He was the one with the peculiar accent and a gunshot wound.