Hearts Anointed

3

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Salman's foot tapped quietly against the leg of his chair, a rhythm he barely noticed anymore. It was his second session with Fayrouz, and despite his usual charm, something about today felt off. His mind kept wandering, even as he tried to keep his cool. The air in the room was heavy with that thick, therapy-session silence, save for the hum of the air conditioner.

Fayrouz sat across from him, calm as ever. Her legs were crossed, a notebook resting on her lap, the pen poised but still. She hadn't written anything yet, though Salman knew better than to think she wasn't taking mental notes.

"So," she finally broke the quiet, her tone gentle, "how have you been since our last session? Anything on your mind?"

Salman leaned back into the couch, slipping on his usual mask of charm with a smirk. "Oh, you know, just living the dream."

Fayrouz's lips curved into a patient smile. She wasn't going to let him dodge the conversation that easily, and they both knew it. She shifted slightly, setting her notebook aside. Her eyes were still on him, steady, waiting.

"How's your relationship with your father?" she asked, her voice calm and professional, as if she were simply asking about the weather.

Salman shrugged, pretending the question hadn't thrown him off. "Good," he replied, keeping his tone casual. And it was true—his father had always been a steady presence in his life, the reliable anchor that kept him grounded.

Fayrouz nodded, making a small note in her book before meeting his eyes again. "And what about your mother?"

Salman's foot stopped tapping. He wasn't ready for that question, and the sudden tension in his jaw gave him away. He looked away, his fingers fidgeting with the cuff of his shirt. His phone buzzed quietly in his pocket, but he ignored it for now.

"Good," he said again, but this time, the word came out flat. Unconvincing.

Fayrouz didn't push. She let the silence hang between them, her quiet way of telling him she wasn't buying it. She waited, giving him the space to speak, but also making it clear she wasn't going to fill the silence for him.

Salman shifted in his seat, feeling the weight of the unspoken memories press in. His mother had never been affectionate—never warm. She was like a ghost in his life, present but untouchable. Distant.

"It's... complicated," Salman finally admitted, his voice quieter now, the charm fading slightly.

Fayrouz nodded, her expression softening. "What makes it complicated?"

Salman leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared at the floor. He hadn't planned on talking about his mother, not really, but Fayrouz had this way of making him feel like it was okay to let something slip. Like it was safe.

"My parents had an arranged marriage," he began, his voice distant. "My dad loved her. Still does, actually. But she... she never loved him. It's like she was trapped."

Fayrouz stayed silent, her eyes attentive, allowing him to continue at his own pace.

"She was always... distant," Salman said, his words coming out slower, heavier. "I don't know if it was because of the marriage or something else, but she didn't care. About me. About him."

His phone buzzed again, and this time, he pulled it out of his pocket, glancing at the screen. Work messages. Something about an upcoming deal that needed his attention. Salman's thumb hovered over the phone for a moment before he locked the screen again, tossing it onto the chair beside him.

"She did what she was supposed to do, I guess," he continued, "raised me, fed me. But there was never any connection. Never that bond you're supposed to have with your mom."