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I peek at the bathroom door, but it’s still closed. Maybe I should say something. I don’t think it’s necessarily going to be an apology, but something at least. What do I even say? “Hey, it really sucks your wife cheated on you, here’s a snow globe?”
It’s too late to go into that right now. We have a flight to catch in the morning. I can say something on the train ride back to Zurich. That’ll give me some time to think. I don’t know if I’ll still be sitting next to him on the plane, but it would be a really awkward twelve hours if one of us doesn’t try to clear the air before then, and because I can’t see him being the first person to say anything, it’ll have to be me. And I’ll admit it...as much as he’s pissed me off, the few sweet moments we’ve shared while here in Switzerland make me not want to end our encounter on a sour note.
I’m about to put the snow globe into my bag when I pause. I sneak a peek at Sarfaraz’s suitcase by the pullout couch, then back down at the snow globe.
I mean, I did buy it for him. And for some reason, I want him to have a reminder of this trip. Yeah. He’ll probably never forget this trip, I know that, but I can’t bring myself to put the snow globe with my own things.
Keeping my eye on the bathroom door, I tiptoe over to his bed. I unzip his bag, then stuff the wrapped snow globe into his suitcase, nestled between a few articles of his clothing. That should be safe, right? It won’t break, and by the time he gets to his destination and opens his bag again, it’ll be too late for him to return it to me.
The sound of the doorknob turning interrupts my thoughts, and I jump into bed before he notices me by his couch. I roll over in the bed so my back is to him and feign sleep, drawing out exaggerated snores. I hear him move around, and then the sound of rustling as he lies down on the pullout couch.
I settle in to sleep, hoping when I wake up in the morning I’ll know what to say.
14
Maya’s Law #14:
You’re always the one left behind.
My alarm buzzes softly. I pat the side table for my phone and turn it off. I stretch my arms over my head, then sit up. Automatically, I search for Sarfaraz. While I lay in bed, I thought about things I might want to say to him, but it was mostly me saying, I’m sorry I didn’t know about your wife. I’ll stop being so happy-go-lucky about marriage and soulmates until we go our separate ways.
But when my eyes land on the pullout couch, a jolt runs through me. The bed has been pushed back into a couch, and the sheets are folded neatly on top of it. Sarfaraz’s suitcase isn’t where he left it last night beside the dresser, either. I pull my sheets off and pad over to the bathroom, but it’s empty. And his shoes aren’t by the door. Sarfaraz is nowhere to be found.
It’s hot in the room, but my blood runs cold. I stay rooted in place, swaying in the front hallway. That’s...it? He left for the airport without me? I know I keep saying we’re strangers, we owe each other nothing, but... I expected a goodbye. At least, that would’ve been the polite thing to do. But no. Instead, I’ve been left in the dark, alone, like always. I guess like my bad luck, that’s something that’ll never change, either.
My breaths come in short, uneven bursts. My head becomes light, and the world around me tilts. I press my palm on my chest and try the breathing exercise Dr. Khan taught me. I breathe in slowly through my nose, deeply and gently. I exhale that breath through my mouth the same way. I hold my breath, counting one, two, three, four, five in my head. Then I do it again.
I do this until the dizziness ebbs. I press the heels of my palms into my lids, then run my fingers down my face. I go over to my bag and pull out a fresh set of clothes. I change, then stuff the dirty clothes into a plastic bag and shove it into my backpack. I put on my shoes and head down to the lobby.
Because I was the one who made the reservation, I quickly check out, then take a cab to the train station. The whole time, I resist the urge to curl into a ball. I don’t know why it’s affecting me so much—being abandoned isn’t exactly new to me. Plus, Sarfaraz objectively sucks. Okay, his attitude toward me has changed since we first met on the plane, but still, he sucks. He didn’t even have the courtesy to leave a note. These past couple of days have been weird, but they’ve also somehow been the best days I’ve had in a long time. For a small amount of time, I could forget everything going on in my life. I could forget I’m alone in a foreign country, I’m about to become someone’s wife, and I don’t even know if I’m ready to become someone’s wife. Instead, I could enjoy the beautiful scenery of a gorgeous country.
But I guess Sarfaraz didn’t see it the same way. Why should he? This wasn’t a mini vacation for him the same way it was for me. He was essentially guilted into letting a random woman stay with him because he felt obligated to worry about her after she puked on him, and then was unwittingly dragged into her plans to make as much of the time she had in the country as she could. Sightseeing is my idea of a good time; that doesn’t mean it’s his. Maybe his life is usually so busy I ended up ruining the single shred of tranquility he managed to find for himself, so he left before he had to deal with me anymore. He just...left, without considering that I’d wake up in that hotel room by myself, with no idea of what happened. Did he stop to consider I’d probably wonder why he left without so much as a goodbye? Did he think I’d brush our encounter off as a small blip in my travel plans? Is he going to do the same? Does it matter if he does? If I do?
I knock my knuckles against my temple. Inshallah, I don’t end up sitting next to him on the plane. If I do, I’ll beg the flight attendant to let me sit in another seat.
I get onto the train and find a seat near the back. The compartment is empty, which I’m super thankful for; I can wallow without worrying about dragging the mood around me down. I drop my bag onto the seat next to me and slump beside the window. I wrap my arms around myself and rest my head against the cold frame. I don’t know how many times I’ve done this in the last couple of days, but this time I feel way colder, way more uncomfortable, way more...alone. I squeeze my eyes shut.
After a while, the train slugs awake and churns forward. Footsteps echo in the cabin, and my skin prickles when I feel a presence looming over me. I wait for a second, pretending to be asleep, because I don’t want to move my bag and let a stranger sit next to me. But the strange feeling is still there, so I open my eyes to grudgingly move my bag.
I freeze when I recognize the towering figure to be Sarfaraz, carrying two coffees. A small plastic bag swings from his left wrist. His hair is slightly tousled, and he looks out of breath, but it’s him, alright; I’d recognize those dark eyes anywhere.
I shoot to my feet. I didn’t realize how close he is to me, because once I’m standing, there’s only a small amount of space between our chests. I stare at him blankly while fighting off the blush creeping up my neck. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m also going to the Zurich airport?” he says like a question instead of an answer.
I huff. “Yeah, I know.” I gesture to the space between us. “But what are you doing here?”
“I think the better question is—why did you leave without me?” he retorts, though the words lack bite. His tone is more confused than anything.
I wait for the anger I felt earlier to flood my face, but I’m also confused. “I thought you left without me,” I explain. “I woke up and you weren’t in the hotel room. I thought you ditched me and went to the train station.” I pick at the mehendi lining my skin. It’s been almost a week since Ammi’s friend applied it, so it’s starting to morph from a deep red to a burnt orange. “So, I left.”
“I went to get breakfast.” He holds up his wrist with the bag encircling it. “When we had breakfast at the hotel, you said a bagel with cream cheese was your go-to.”
I can only stare at him, confusion marring my face. “Why did you take your whole suitcase with you, then?”
“Oh.” He pats the handle of his bag. “I’m so used to traveling alone that whenever I leave a hotel room, I take my bag with me. I guess I can see how that made you think I left.” His gaze drops from mine, and he shuffles his feet awkwardly. “I was hoping it’d be a peace offering after what happened last night,” he reveals. Tentatively, he peeks up at me from beneath lowered lashes. “But when I came back to the room and saw it empty, I thought you were already gone.” He looks around the cabin. “Figured there was only one place you were going.”
I sniffle, trying but failing to keep the growing smile off my face. “Peace offering?”
