My Qadr

Hayati

Farrah

I lay against the worn mattress of my bed, settling in the most comfortable spot as my legs hung in the air, aimlessly.

The soft sound of Fareedah's snores beside me filled the otherwise quiet room, a welcome disturbance to my troubled mind.

My mind kept replaying the scene in the hospital, my conscience killing me.

I sincerely didn't know whether I did right by leaving the hospital without saying goodbye or if I should have just risked the embarrassment and done so.

My head swarmed with the feelings I'd been trying to suppress all week, remembering the talk Salma had given me earlier that evening.

Somehow, my Zayyad obsessed mind had asked her about the boss, and how to avoid getting into trouble with him.

That was the only question that would both get me the answer I wanted, and at the same time prevent me from suspicion.

By the time Salma was done briefing me about Mr Zayyad's character, I was almost 100% sure that my boss was the cousin Nabeela had been going on and on about.

Salma, the sweet, naive soul had unsuspectingly entered my master trap, she'd fallen prey to my mastery of deceit and evil genius.

What?!

I like feeling badass sometimes okay?!

She'd basically said in more polite words that Mr Zayyad was the most ruthless employer to walk the surface of the earth.

Of course, she'd also added that she didn't mind because he was a damn fine specimen, astaghfirullah.

Her words, not mine

She'd told me of how no one had ever seen him smile, assuring me that it was true when I confessed my disbelief.

She said he worked everyone to the bone with exhaustion, and would never let anyone take leave unless they were done with their entire job for the day.

She'd gone further to say that she'd tried her best to get on his good side as a new employee, completing all her work for the day in record time, and even asking for more.

According to her, Mr Zayyad never refused her request for more work, in fact he'd pile more than the original for her.

And when she was finally done, sometimes one of the last to leave the building, he'd just stare at her impassively and tell her he'd see her the next day.

After a while, she'd stopped trying to prove her devotion and like every other person, just did her daily share of work, knowing they'd get no words of encouragement, and leave.

In fact, according to her, the only reason people kept applying to work in the company, apart from the unrefutable prestige, was the pay.

According to her, what the boss lacked in empathy, he had in salary.

Cue the cringe.

After telling Salma to improve on her rhymes as she laughed hysterically, we exchanged greetings and hung up.

I remembered the way Nabeela had also described him, comparing it with Salma's opinions.

To both parties, he lacked empathy, never smiled and was aloof.

And yet, I'd seen him smile so many times since I'd resumed work.

Sometimes amusedly, a few other times teasingly.

Heck, one time he even laughed.

It was really hard to reconcile the versions of what Nabeela and Salma had told me with the version of Mr Zayyad I'd come to know.