His Sabah

III

“You are even more beautiful up close, dear,” Hafsa, Sabah’s elegant potential mother-in-law said, giving her a brilliant smile. She smiled back softly and squirmed in her seat, trying not to let her discomfort appear too obvious, even though she felt like everyone in the restaurant could hear her heart racing.

She glanced around the lavish place once more, her eyes darting from the beautiful, gold-embroidered silk table covers to the lightly twinkling glass chandeliers above. Sophisticatedly dressed men and women dined at the lovely tables, their wine glasses catching the light of the chandeliers as they clicked against one another. Soft laughter and chatter resonated around the room, reaching Sabah’s ears and making her skin crawl with even more uneasiness.

“Relax, darling,” Hafsa Auntie said suddenly, forcing Sabah’s attention to return to her. Her cheeks burned from embarrassment at having failed in her goal of keeping her anxiety and awkwardness hidden and at having been caught looking around while her potential mother-in-law was speaking.

“S-sorry,” she muttered quietly, clearing her throat and looking down at the table. She had begun rearranging the napkins and silverware out of nervousness when a soft, comforting hand came down on her own. Surprised, Sabah looked up and met Hafsa Auntie’s warm brown eyes.

There were subtle wrinkles around them which deepened when she smiled, but other than that, her skin looked fresh and dewy. In fact, judging by her appearance, she didn’t seem to be any older than thirty, though Sabah knew she was probably much more advanced in her years. Nevertheless, her hair, much like her skin, was also vibrant and practically glistening, free of any gray and failing in giving away anything about her age. She wore a delicate silver chain around her firm neck and a sparkling diamond ring on her left hand. Sabah glanced at it and wondered whether it was her wedding ring, or perhaps it was just a piece of jewelry? After all, the woman looked rich enough to be able to afford it as just an accessory.

“I know you’re nervous, sweetie,” Hafsa Auntie said suddenly, smiling and causing Sabah to look up from the ring. “Don’t worry. I don’t bite,” she continued, giving a soft, twinkling laugh. Sabah couldn’t help but smile, either. She felt her discomfort easing as Hafsa Auntie gracefully leaned back in her seat and sighed.

“I just wanted to get to know you a little better. You know, just so I could figure out whether or not you’d be right for my son,” she explained, her face breaking into the widest smile Sabah had seen her give since they had arrived at the restaurant. Her own heart began racing at the mention of her possible spouse. She didn’t know why, but ever since her Mother had told her about…him, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her impending wedding. Maybe the thought of such an important event was just making her a little too excited, but deep down, she felt like it was something more, like her parents wouldn’t have to look any further than this woman’s family. In some strange way, she just…felt like this was it.

“I—I understand,” she said, folding her hands in her lap with a soft smile. “You can ask me whatever you like. I don’t mind.”

Hafsa laughed lightly again. “Well,” she said, tapping her chin with a perfectly manicured, maroon-painted nail. Sabah glanced at the rich shade and frowned, wondering how she prayed wearing nail polish. Or maybe she was on her monthly cycle? “I guess I’ll start with the basics first. Where did you study?”

“At one of the local universities, the one closest to home, actually. I didn’t want to be too far from my parents. And they didn’t like the idea of me living in a dorm, either. So I commuted,” Sabah said, playing with the small tassels on her scarf out of nervousness. She could feel her palms beginning to prick with sweat like they did when she got anxious. She had never liked interviews or interrogations. And even though she knew this wasn’t really either, it still felt like both—in fact, it felt a million times worse. But, then again, this was the woman who would ultimately be deciding whether she met the standards for her son.