AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Of course,” Salama says as she stands. She takes my mug, too. “Would you like to rest, as well, Maya?”
Now that they’ve mentioned sleep, the back of my eyes ache. Maybe my body is tired enough to let me sleep more than a couple hours straight. I stand up. “Thank you again for all of your hospitality.”
Salama waves us off. “Go, get some sleep now. I put extra pillows and blankets in your room in case you need them.”
“Do you have a janamaz there, as well?” I ask. “We missed the Fajr prayer this morning.”
“Yes, there should be one in your room,” Salama answers.
Sarfaraz and I trudge back up the stairs. He opens the door and lets me in first. There’s only one janamaz, though, so we take turns praying. When I’m finished, I fold the prayer mat and stand up. I turn to face Sarfaraz, about to ask what we’re doing for the sleeping situation, when he picks up one of the extra pillows and spare blanket Salama brought for us, draping the blanket on the floor and setting the pillow at one end.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“You should take the bed.”
I pick at my mehendi, but before I can say anything else, he rests his head on the pillow. I know from experience he’ll be asleep in no time, so I go over to the bed. I lie down without a blanket, too, because the thick heat extends into the house. I close my eyes and hope sleep comes quickly.
20
Maya’s Law #20:
Sometimes people will tell you stuff you don’t want to hear.
I wake up to dying rays of afternoon sunlight peeking through the window. I tossed for a while, but I got more sleep than I thought I would. I sit up in bed, blinking heavily. I’m surprised to see Sarfaraz gone, the blanket he used to make his bedding folded neatly and left by the foot of the bed. I paw the side table for my phone. There’s only 5 percent battery left, but I might as well use it to update Ammi. It’s been enough hours since I left the airport for them to assume that I’ll be getting to the house soon.
I stretch my back as I dial her number. She picks up on the second ring. “Assalaam-o-alaikum,” I greet with a yawn.
“Walaykum salam,” Ammi choruses back, smiling on the video call. “Are you at the bus station? I can arrange for someone to come get you.”
“No, Ammi, I’m not,” I say, and reluctantly, I update her on our new situation.
I swear I can see the giant vein in her neck pulse. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you come on your own. Nothing good has happened to you since you left. There’s only a few days left until the wedding, Maya.”
“I know,” I grit. “But I didn’t plan any of this to happen. It was my kismet. Allah intended for all this to happen.”
Usually when I bring “God’s plan” into an argument she lets it go, but she must be really stressed, because instead she says, “Maya, I need you to be serious for once. How does this look to your in-laws? To Imtiaz? It looks like you’re purposefully trying to stall the wedding.”
“But I’m not,” I insist. “And why would they think that?”
“Well, your wedding is happening three years after an engagement,” she points out. “Most people only wait a year, sometimes six months! And you didn’t want to do the nikkah before you left, either. It looks like you’re trying to put it off.”
“I didn’t want to do the nikkah before I left because I didn’t want to have to do a big party twice,” I explain. “And I’m not putting it off! I’m trying my hardest to get there. It’s my curse that’s bringing every possible roadblock in front of me.”
“I know, meri bechari bachee,” Ammi bemoans. “You were too pretty as a baby. I’ve always said someone put their nazar on you when you were born.”
I can feel my pulse quickening, so I force a deep breath in through my teeth. Calmer, I say, “I promise everything’s okay, though. I’ll get on the bus bright and early the day after tomorrow and should be there sometime in the afternoon. I’m so close to home. Just wait for a while longer.”
Hesitation on the other line. Then, “Fine. But if you’re not here by then, I’m sending your mamu to come track you down.”
“Fine.” I check my battery, and it’s at 1 percent. “Listen, Ammi, I have to go, my battery’s—” I don’t even get to finish the sentence; the phone just powers down. I stare at the blank screen for a second, then set it aside and crawl out of bed.
Because it’s later in the afternoon, I know I’ve missed the Dhuhr and the Asr prayer, so I perform both before I leave the room. I walk into the kitchen, but Sarfaraz isn’t there, either. Salama is, though, and she lifts her head from the spot where she’s cooking. “Did you sleep well?”
“Very well, thank you,” I answer, stopping next to her. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“No, no.” She waves me away. “I’m making chicken korma, and it’s a very easy meal to prepare. Please, sit.”
I feel guilty not doing anything, but I sit down in a chair anyway. “Where is Sarfaraz?”
