His Sabah

I

“Sabah, your Father and I would like to talk to you.”

Sabah’s eyebrows knitted in curiosity. Confused, she placed her pink and green polka-dotted bookmark between the pages of her latest novel and smiled to herself, remembering the little girl at the community center that had made it for her. “Talk to me?” she asked, gently shutting the book and rising from her favorite loveseat to cross the room towards her Mother, her face growing serious again.

Laiba nodded and twisted her hands anxiously. “Yes, dear,” she said, mustering a tight-lipped smile.

Sabah noticed her Mother’s discomfort and frowned. “Mama,” she said, placing a soft hand on her Mother’s arm, “is everything alright? You’re—you’re okay, aren’t you?” She felt her heart begin to race at the thought of something happening to her Mom. She had done always been there for Sabah, through thick and thin. She was her best friend and confidante. She couldn’t imagine anything happening to her.

Laiba laughed softly, surprising Sabah into reality again. She met her laughing eyes and pouted unhappily. “Mama,” she cried. “You scared me.” She swatted her arm and Laiba laughed again.

“I’m sorry, beta. It’s just that you always overthink everything. I’m fine, alhamdulillah,” she said, shaking her head at her daughter’s silliness.

Sabah rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m an idiot and a drama queen. Now, can you please tell me what it is that you need to talk to me about? The curiosity is killing me,” she whined, bouncing impatiently on her heels. Laiba’s smile fell.

“Oh,” she muttered. “That. Yes. Well, um, come with me, sweetie. Your Father’s up in his office. He thought it best if we talk there,” she said, turning and swiftly walking out of the room. Sabah frowned in confusion, but rushed after her, unable to contain her interest. She was practically bubbling with anticipation. After all, it wasn’t everyday that her family sat down to discuss matters in such a formal and serious way.

“Mama, what is it?” she asked again as they reached the top of the stairs. Laiba huffed in irritation.

“Sabah, be patient. You’ll find out soon enough,” she said, turning the corner and moving down the carpeted hall. Sabah pouted and dragged her feet, letting the soft fibers tickle her toes. Suddenly, her Mother stopped in front of her, causing her to nearly collide into her back.

“Sabah,” Laiba chastised, her expression turning sharp in irritation.

Sabah giggled nervously. “Sorry,” she muttered, giving her Mom a small, apologetic smile. Her Mother simply shook her head.

“Bavli,” she said under her breath, rolling her eyes.

Sabah gasped, offended. “Hey,” she cried. “I’m not—”

“I thought I heard you two out here.”

Sabah and Laiba both gasped in surprise and turned away from each other to face the now open office door. Faisal stood in the threshold, smiling amusedly at his wife and daughter. “Well?” he said, arching a graying eyebrow. “Do I have to give you an introduction to come in or what?”

Laiba smiled at her husband’s sense of humor and stepped into the room, Sabah following closely behind. “She’s been dying of curiosity,” she told Faisal as she took a seat in one of the leather chairs across from his own behind the desk.

Faisal turned his playful smile on his daughter. “Have you now?” he teased, placing his hands on his hips. Sabah giggled innocently and nodded.

“Well, when you tell me we need to talk—and in your private office of all places—how can I not be curious?” she said, crossing the room to sit in the chair beside her Mother. Her tense mood and stature, she noticed, had returned. Confused, Sabah glanced at her Father and noticed he too had lost his light, free-spirited grin.