22-11-2025, 01:22 PM
Chapter 44: Sari (Act 8)
Rahim knew he had a difficult decision to make. After calling and confiding in Lina about Sari’s ordeal, her advice was clear: do the right thing. He couldn’t just send Sari off alone, not after everything she’d endured. Lina, though nearing her due date, insisted he accompany Sari home to ensure she arrived safely. Rahim agreed, closing his shop for a few days despite the financial strain.
Before their journey, Rahim accompanied Sari to confront her former boss at the bar. With steely resolve, he demanded payment for her unpaid wages and additional compensation for the trauma she’d suffered. The man, intimidated by Rahim’s quiet fury, handed over a substantial sum in cash. Rahim immediately deposited it into Sari’s bank account, a small measure of security for her future.
That evening, they boarded the night train bound for Tanjung Harapan, Sari’s homeland. The journey would take fourteen hours, from dusk till the next noon. Rahim had informed her parents of their arrival, promising to keep the details of her ordeal private, a gesture Sari deeply appreciated.
They packed light, and just before boarding, Sari managed to find a simple outfit that fit her well, a soft cotton top and comfortable trousers. As they took their seats in the private sleeper compartment, Rahim felt the weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders. This was more than just a journey; it was a promise to protect, to see her safe no matter what.
The rhythmic clack-clack of the train wheels on the tracks was a soothing, monotonous soundtrack to their journey. Rahim had stowed their small bags in the overhead compartment and now sat opposite Sari, the small table between them feeling both like a barrier and a connection.
“Comfortable?” Rahim asked, his voice a low rumble that blended with the train’s hum.
Sari nodded, offering a small, tentative smile. The new clothes a simple, soft cotton top that clung gently to her frame and a pair of comfortable trousers felt like a suit of armor after wearing Lina’s things. “Yes. The bed is softer than I expected.”
“Good. You need the rest.” His gaze was protective, scanning the corridor outside their private sleeper compartment every so often, a habit he couldn’t seem to break.
The peace was interrupted by a soft knock on the compartment’s sliding door. Before Rahim could fully stand, it slid open with a whoosh.
Two young men, probably in their early twenties, stood in the doorway. One was lean with a mop of curly brown hair and an easy, open smile. The other was more solidly built, with close-cropped black hair and intense, dark eyes that immediately found Sari and lingered.
“Evening,” the curly-haired one said, his voice friendly. “Hope we’re not disturbing you. Just saying hello to our neighbors. I’m Arjun, and this is my cousin, Risal.”
Rahim’s posture stiffened almost imperceptibly, his shoulders squaring. “Rahim. This is Sari. We’re just settling in.”
“Long journey to the northern provinces,”
Risal said, his voice deeper, smoother than his cousin’s. His eyes finally flicked from Sari to Rahim, acknowledging his presence with a respectful dip of his chin. “Fourteen hours in this metal tube. Always better to know who you’re sharing the space with.”
“Indeed,” Rahim said, his tone neutral but firm. A clear, quiet warning.
Arjun, however, seemed immune to subtlety. He leaned against the doorframe, his gaze openly appreciative as it swept over Sari. “It’s a quiet car. Not many people. We got on at the last stop. Saw you two boarding earlier.” His smile widened. “You travel this route often?”
“First time,” Sari answered, her voice quieter than she intended. She focused on the table, tracing a finger along its laminate edge. A faint warmth crept up her neck. They’re just being friendly. Stop being so nervous.
“Ah, a new adventure then!” Arjun chirped. “The night scenery is beautiful once we get into the mountains. You shouldn’t sleep through all of it.”
Risal’s lips curved into a subtle smirk. “My cousin thinks he’s the official welcome committee for this train. Don’t mind him.” His dark eyes settled on Sari again, and this time they held a different weight, a slow, appraising heat that made the air in the compartment feel several degrees warmer. He’s not just looking, she thought, a jumble of discomfort and a strange, unwelcome thrill twisting in her stomach. He’s… tasting.
Rahim cleared his throat, the sound like gravel. “We appreciate the hospitality. But it’s been a long day. We’ll probably turn in early.”
“Of course, of course,” Arjun said, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. But he didn’t move. “We’re just a few compartments down. If you get bored… or need anything.” His emphasis on anything was light, almost playful, but it landed with a distinct thud in the small space.
Risal finally pushed off from the doorframe. “Sleep well,” he said, his voice a low murmur meant for Sari alone. His eyes did a final, deliberate sweep from her face down to her hands on the table before he turned to leave. Arjun gave a final, cheerful wave before sliding the door shut, leaving a sudden, thick silence in their wake.
Rahim let out a long, slow breath he seemed to have been holding. “Those two have a lot of nerve.”
Sari wrapped her arms around herself. “They were just being social.”
“I know that look,” Rahim muttered, more to himself than to her. He stood up and closed the door properly, latching it with a definitive click. “The tall one, Risal. He wasn’t just being social.”
A shiver traced Sari’s spine. She knew it, too. She’d felt the intent behind his gaze, a physical touch that lingered on her skin. It’s the same feeling from the bar, from the alley. That feeling of being seen as just a thing. But mixed with it was a confusing current of something else, a raw, masculine attention that, despite her fear, sparked a faint, shamed flicker of awareness in her core.
An hour later, the knock came again. This time, it was Risal alone. He held two paper cups of steaming chai. “Compliments of the railway,” he said smoothly, his eyes finding Sari’s immediately. “Thought you might want something warm before bed.”
Rahim reached for both cups. “Thank you. That’s very kind.” His tone left no room for further conversation.
But as Rahim took the cups, Risal’s fingers brushed against his. It was a simple accident, but Risal’s eyes never left Sari’s face, as if the contact with Rahim was irrelevant. A small, almost imperceptible smile played on his lips. He’s not here for Rahim. He’s marking his territory. With me as the territory.
“The beds comfortable?” Risal asked, his voice dropping into an intimate register that felt entirely inappropriate.
“They’re fine,” Rahim answered, his voice clipped.
“Good. The top bunk can be a bit of a tight fit. Easy to… lose your balance in the night if the train jerks.” His gaze was a clear promise, a dark suggestion that coiled in the air between them.
Before Rahim could form a response, Risal gave a slight nod. “Enjoy your tea.” He left, the silence he left behind now charged and heavy.
Sari accepted the cup of chai from Rahim, her hands trembling slightly, making the warm liquid ripple. She couldn’t meet his eyes. The sweet, spicy scent of the tea did nothing to calm her nerves.
“He’s trouble,” Rahim stated flatly, his jaw tight.
“I know,” she whispered.
They drank their tea in silence, the earlier comfort gone, replaced by a new, humming tension. The train rocked gently, a lulling motion that felt deceitful now. When they were finished, Rahim stood.
“I’ll take the top bunk. You get settled down here. Try to get some sleep.” He sounded weary, a man burdened by the constant need for vigilance.
Sari nodded, changing quickly into her nightclothes, a modest long-sleeved top and loose pants in the tiny ensuite bathroom. When she came out, Rahim was already on the upper bunk, his form a dark shape above her. She switched off the main light, plunging the compartment into soft darkness, lit only by the occasional passing light outside that streaked through the window like a slow-moving comet.
She slid under the thin blanket, pulling it up to her chin. She could hear Rahim’s steady breathing above her, a sound that should have been comforting. But all she could think about was the look in Risal’s eyes.
The promise in them. The threat.
The train gave a sudden, slight lurch, rocking her body sideways in the narrow bunk. In the darkness, her senses felt heightened. She could hear the faint murmur of voices from down the hall. Laughter. Their laughter.
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force sleep to come. The darkness behind her eyelids offered no refuge, only a screen for her imagination. She heard the soft snick of their compartment door being unlatched. It slid open slowly, without a sound. A sliver of dim corridor light cut across the floor.
Rahim knew he had a difficult decision to make. After calling and confiding in Lina about Sari’s ordeal, her advice was clear: do the right thing. He couldn’t just send Sari off alone, not after everything she’d endured. Lina, though nearing her due date, insisted he accompany Sari home to ensure she arrived safely. Rahim agreed, closing his shop for a few days despite the financial strain.
Before their journey, Rahim accompanied Sari to confront her former boss at the bar. With steely resolve, he demanded payment for her unpaid wages and additional compensation for the trauma she’d suffered. The man, intimidated by Rahim’s quiet fury, handed over a substantial sum in cash. Rahim immediately deposited it into Sari’s bank account, a small measure of security for her future.
That evening, they boarded the night train bound for Tanjung Harapan, Sari’s homeland. The journey would take fourteen hours, from dusk till the next noon. Rahim had informed her parents of their arrival, promising to keep the details of her ordeal private, a gesture Sari deeply appreciated.
They packed light, and just before boarding, Sari managed to find a simple outfit that fit her well, a soft cotton top and comfortable trousers. As they took their seats in the private sleeper compartment, Rahim felt the weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders. This was more than just a journey; it was a promise to protect, to see her safe no matter what.
The rhythmic clack-clack of the train wheels on the tracks was a soothing, monotonous soundtrack to their journey. Rahim had stowed their small bags in the overhead compartment and now sat opposite Sari, the small table between them feeling both like a barrier and a connection.
“Comfortable?” Rahim asked, his voice a low rumble that blended with the train’s hum.
Sari nodded, offering a small, tentative smile. The new clothes a simple, soft cotton top that clung gently to her frame and a pair of comfortable trousers felt like a suit of armor after wearing Lina’s things. “Yes. The bed is softer than I expected.”
“Good. You need the rest.” His gaze was protective, scanning the corridor outside their private sleeper compartment every so often, a habit he couldn’t seem to break.
The peace was interrupted by a soft knock on the compartment’s sliding door. Before Rahim could fully stand, it slid open with a whoosh.
Two young men, probably in their early twenties, stood in the doorway. One was lean with a mop of curly brown hair and an easy, open smile. The other was more solidly built, with close-cropped black hair and intense, dark eyes that immediately found Sari and lingered.
“Evening,” the curly-haired one said, his voice friendly. “Hope we’re not disturbing you. Just saying hello to our neighbors. I’m Arjun, and this is my cousin, Risal.”
Rahim’s posture stiffened almost imperceptibly, his shoulders squaring. “Rahim. This is Sari. We’re just settling in.”
“Long journey to the northern provinces,”
Risal said, his voice deeper, smoother than his cousin’s. His eyes finally flicked from Sari to Rahim, acknowledging his presence with a respectful dip of his chin. “Fourteen hours in this metal tube. Always better to know who you’re sharing the space with.”
“Indeed,” Rahim said, his tone neutral but firm. A clear, quiet warning.
Arjun, however, seemed immune to subtlety. He leaned against the doorframe, his gaze openly appreciative as it swept over Sari. “It’s a quiet car. Not many people. We got on at the last stop. Saw you two boarding earlier.” His smile widened. “You travel this route often?”
“First time,” Sari answered, her voice quieter than she intended. She focused on the table, tracing a finger along its laminate edge. A faint warmth crept up her neck. They’re just being friendly. Stop being so nervous.
“Ah, a new adventure then!” Arjun chirped. “The night scenery is beautiful once we get into the mountains. You shouldn’t sleep through all of it.”
Risal’s lips curved into a subtle smirk. “My cousin thinks he’s the official welcome committee for this train. Don’t mind him.” His dark eyes settled on Sari again, and this time they held a different weight, a slow, appraising heat that made the air in the compartment feel several degrees warmer. He’s not just looking, she thought, a jumble of discomfort and a strange, unwelcome thrill twisting in her stomach. He’s… tasting.
Rahim cleared his throat, the sound like gravel. “We appreciate the hospitality. But it’s been a long day. We’ll probably turn in early.”
“Of course, of course,” Arjun said, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. But he didn’t move. “We’re just a few compartments down. If you get bored… or need anything.” His emphasis on anything was light, almost playful, but it landed with a distinct thud in the small space.
Risal finally pushed off from the doorframe. “Sleep well,” he said, his voice a low murmur meant for Sari alone. His eyes did a final, deliberate sweep from her face down to her hands on the table before he turned to leave. Arjun gave a final, cheerful wave before sliding the door shut, leaving a sudden, thick silence in their wake.
Rahim let out a long, slow breath he seemed to have been holding. “Those two have a lot of nerve.”
Sari wrapped her arms around herself. “They were just being social.”
“I know that look,” Rahim muttered, more to himself than to her. He stood up and closed the door properly, latching it with a definitive click. “The tall one, Risal. He wasn’t just being social.”
A shiver traced Sari’s spine. She knew it, too. She’d felt the intent behind his gaze, a physical touch that lingered on her skin. It’s the same feeling from the bar, from the alley. That feeling of being seen as just a thing. But mixed with it was a confusing current of something else, a raw, masculine attention that, despite her fear, sparked a faint, shamed flicker of awareness in her core.
An hour later, the knock came again. This time, it was Risal alone. He held two paper cups of steaming chai. “Compliments of the railway,” he said smoothly, his eyes finding Sari’s immediately. “Thought you might want something warm before bed.”
Rahim reached for both cups. “Thank you. That’s very kind.” His tone left no room for further conversation.
But as Rahim took the cups, Risal’s fingers brushed against his. It was a simple accident, but Risal’s eyes never left Sari’s face, as if the contact with Rahim was irrelevant. A small, almost imperceptible smile played on his lips. He’s not here for Rahim. He’s marking his territory. With me as the territory.
“The beds comfortable?” Risal asked, his voice dropping into an intimate register that felt entirely inappropriate.
“They’re fine,” Rahim answered, his voice clipped.
“Good. The top bunk can be a bit of a tight fit. Easy to… lose your balance in the night if the train jerks.” His gaze was a clear promise, a dark suggestion that coiled in the air between them.
Before Rahim could form a response, Risal gave a slight nod. “Enjoy your tea.” He left, the silence he left behind now charged and heavy.
Sari accepted the cup of chai from Rahim, her hands trembling slightly, making the warm liquid ripple. She couldn’t meet his eyes. The sweet, spicy scent of the tea did nothing to calm her nerves.
“He’s trouble,” Rahim stated flatly, his jaw tight.
“I know,” she whispered.
They drank their tea in silence, the earlier comfort gone, replaced by a new, humming tension. The train rocked gently, a lulling motion that felt deceitful now. When they were finished, Rahim stood.
“I’ll take the top bunk. You get settled down here. Try to get some sleep.” He sounded weary, a man burdened by the constant need for vigilance.
Sari nodded, changing quickly into her nightclothes, a modest long-sleeved top and loose pants in the tiny ensuite bathroom. When she came out, Rahim was already on the upper bunk, his form a dark shape above her. She switched off the main light, plunging the compartment into soft darkness, lit only by the occasional passing light outside that streaked through the window like a slow-moving comet.
She slid under the thin blanket, pulling it up to her chin. She could hear Rahim’s steady breathing above her, a sound that should have been comforting. But all she could think about was the look in Risal’s eyes.
The promise in them. The threat.
The train gave a sudden, slight lurch, rocking her body sideways in the narrow bunk. In the darkness, her senses felt heightened. She could hear the faint murmur of voices from down the hall. Laughter. Their laughter.
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force sleep to come. The darkness behind her eyelids offered no refuge, only a screen for her imagination. She heard the soft snick of their compartment door being unlatched. It slid open slowly, without a sound. A sliver of dim corridor light cut across the floor.
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