Written In The Scars

Chapter 15

Abbas had had a long day stuck in his study again. Today thankfully had not been the longest and after wrapping up business with the ministers early, he headed to his room longing to rest his aching back. The afternoon sun had cast a small shadow as it began its descent. It filled the palace with a warm orange glow as he walked the corridors of his home.

He stopped by one of the many arched windows, peering out into the backyard, where the sounds of the water fountain could be heard distantly. Instinctively, his hands rose to his face, running a finger over the scar. It no longer hurt, but the stitches had naturally fallen off and now his wound began to scab, forming a rough layer of skin over the gash. It had been almost half a year since it happened, but he still couldn't look at himself directly in a mirror. Every time he tried, Abbas would avert his eyes away before they caught onto his reflection. He still found it hard to accept the rough face that stared back at him. 

But he didn't tell anyone that. How could he, when all that would bring were looks of pity and worry.

The fact that Haifa had, amazed him. How she and the rest of his family had been able to face him every day and talk to him normally without flinching back in fear as others did seriously amazed him. 

How did they do it? How did his own wife accept his appearance?

But then again, he wasn't so sure if she had, because he had never asked. Not like she would admit to it anyways.

God, why was he being like this? Sniffing in reed dust all day must have turned his brain into a negative mush.

Trying not to think too much about it, he moved off from the window and walked to their room.

When he entered, the room appeared to be empty. The Prince walked over to the bed and was about to lie down when a swirling shadow danced across the bedroom walls. Realising the source of movement, he walked over to the double doors of the balcony, noticing they were slightly ajar. Peering through the window, he caught sight of a familiar female figure gliding around the balcony, her ebony brown hair swirling around her majestically whilst the hilt of her small golden blade glinted in the sun. Slowly and quietly, he opened the doors wider and leaned against its frame, watching her concentrated features all too immersed in whatever she was doing to realise she had company.

Haifa had almost finished up the last steps of her blade practice when a sudden noise interrupted her thoughts and on instinct, she whirled around to the sound, her golden blade pointed in the direction it came from in a defensive position. Her surprised eyes met the smiling Prince's with his hands up in defence as well, and immediately she dropped the dagger and hid it behind her back, embarrassed she had been caught. Sliding it back into the sheath, she tucked it under her belt, a hand still covering it.

"Abbas, what are you-why-how," Haifa stuttered, heat flaring in her cheeks as she tried to catch her breath and figure out how long the Prince had been watching her for. Realisation soon hit that she was also not exactly wearing the most elegant outfit - her loose training clothes and tied back hair was probably messy and damp with sweat by now.

"Quite an interesting talent you have there," he smirked, stepping forward and away from the door frame.

"Oh-um, Thank you," She muttered, taking a step back every time he took one closer.

"You didn't tell me you could use that dagger,"

"W-well-I intended to,"

"Indeed?" The Prince continued, the smile never leaving his face.

"Yes, I swear by Allah, I was. Besides it's just some simple defence moves my father taught me." 

God, why was she so nervous? It wasn't like she committed any wrong...apart from not telling him.