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I look through the window with blurry vision. The moon is bright tonight, round and full. People always reference the moon, the chaand, in their love poems. She’s the most beautiful thing you can compare someone to. Taking a stroll in the moonlight is the most romantic thing you can do. Just staring up at her with someone you love is magical enough. But no one talks about how she takes that love and then abandons you, never reciprocating those feelings. You can stare and stare and stare at her, but she’ll still disappear, leaving you with only the harsh light of the sun to burn your skin and make you feel incredibly stupid for loving something that you know leaves at the end of each night.
Sarfaraz said my curse wasn’t real, and maybe it isn’t, but all I know is that right now, my bad luck will always be with me—and getting married won’t magically fix it.
33
Maya’s Law #33:
The past will always haunt you.
After a while, I wipe my tears away and stand up. I put the snow globe into a drawer. I’m not sure if I ever want to look at it again.
With that done, I leave the room. I didn’t notice it earlier, but my wet hair sits heavily against my upper back, seeping through the cloth and sticking to my skin. I shift uncomfortably, squeezing some residual water out. I guess I was so concerned with stopping Sarfaraz that I barely towel-dried my hair.
I stop in front of my mother’s room. I tentatively knock on the door. There’s no answer, so I twist the doorknob and let myself in. I know I should probably have waited for a proper response from her, but she’s barged into my room enough times over the years without knocking that I think I deserve a pass.
Light snores echo around the room as I tiptoe over to the bed. I peer at her face for a second. Even in the darkness, I can make out her soft features: her elegant nose, her delicate cheekbones, her firm chin. The only hints of aging are the few graying hairs on her head, and she’ll quickly cover them up with dye once she notices them.
Her breath hitches, and she blinks her eyes open. “Maya?” she croaks, her voice thick with sleep. She begins to push herself up. “What’s wrong? Why are you in here?”
“No, no, lie back down,” I quickly say. I grab the blanket and pull it back so I can crawl in next to her. I get as close as I can, nestling my head in the crook of her neck. “I didn’t... I didn’t want to be alone tonight.”
“Oh, of course,” she croons. She wraps her arms around me and holds me close to her chest. “My baby is getting married tomorrow. I’m going to miss you so, so much.”
I drink in the lingering scent of her signature Michael Kors perfume, and for a second, the nostalgia spreads like an ache through my veins, only to be interrupted when she mentions missing me. I swallow back a groan. “I’m not going anywhere, Ammi. It’s not like I’m dying.”
“No, you’re not,” she agrees. She gently runs her fingers through my hair. “But things won’t be the same. For twenty-eight years, you’ve always come home to me. And after Hibba got married, I wasn’t as sad because I still had you. But you won’t be coming home to me from now on.”
I tilt my head up. “I’m still my own person. I’ll come see you whenever I want. Just because I’ll have a husband at home, doesn’t mean you’re not my family.”
“I know that. But relationships are difficult. You can’t live how you used to. You’re not making decisions for only yourself. You must compromise, and it’s not going to be easy.” Her fingers pause. “Marriage is the hardest thing in the world.”
“Is that what happened with you and Baba? You couldn’t reach a compromise?”
“Yes...and no,” she admits. “I don’t think we were compatible. But what did our parents care of compatibility? His parents thought I was a good girl, and my parents thought it was an excellent rishta. We met only a few times before agreeing. But how can you know someone after such a short while? And know them well enough to make such a huge, life-changing decision?”
My stomach clenches. “What if you have spent time with them?” I whisper. “What if you meet the other person...and for some reason, they know your soul?”
“Oh, Maya. That kind of love is only found in poetry, not real life. All you can do is meet someone and hope it works.” She runs her hand along my back. “And it’s certainly worked for you, right?”
I’m silent for a moment, then I say, “Right. I guess it’s just...with the wedding tomorrow...”
“You’re scared?” Ammi tilts her head to the side. “It’s okay to be scared. I certainly was. So much was changing for me, and I didn’t know what the outcome was going to be. I could only hope that I would end up happy; I had no guarantees.”
I gulp. “I’m sorry you didn’t end up happy, Ammi.”
“Now, who said that?” she asks. “I’m very happy with how my life ended up. I don’t have the love of a husband, but I have the love of my two daughters, and that is always going to be enough for me.” She wipes at a tiny tear poking out of the corner of my eye. “You and your sister are my whole family.”
“You’re my family, too.” I sniffle. “I’ve never needed anyone more than you and Baji.”
“But it’s not about needing someone, jaanu,” she says, her voice as gentle as a leaf. “The love of your sister and the love of your mother are different from the love you find from a partner.”
“You know it’s okay not to have that love, right?” I point out, wincing as the words leave my mouth. Here we are, having a sweet moment, and I can’t resist the urge to correct my mother’s old-school thoughts. “It’s okay to want to be alone.”
To my surprise, Ammi nods. “It is, if you want.” She curls a strand of hair over my ear. “But, Maya, you’ve never wanted to be alone. And I don’t want you to be alone, either.” She presses me closer to her. “Listen, beta. Your sister has her own family now. I’m not going to be around forever. Before you were engaged, I worried so much about what was going to happen to you when I was gone, because you so stubbornly refused to let me find a husband for you, or to look for one yourself, even though I would have accepted anyone you brought home as long as you were happy.” She smooths my bangs back. “But that’s all changing now. You’re going to be married. You’re going to be happy.” She blinks quickly, and her throat bobs. “My baby is grown.” She runs her thumb along my cheekbone. “I’m so proud of you, Maya. I know I don’t say it often, and I should say it more, but I am. You’ve been through so much, but you’ve gotten to such a good point in your life.” She taps the spot between my brows. “Things can only get better from now on. And it all starts tomorrow.” She kisses my forehead. “So, you should do us both a favor and let us sleep. You don’t want to have bags under your eyes for the wedding.”
Right now, listening to my mom, who stares at me with equal parts happiness and pain, it hits me. My whole life, I’ve thought Ammi was overbearing; that she cared too much about what others thought; that she put her own wants before mine. But she never did that. It was always me. I was the one who dictated my life according to what others were going to say about my mom. I was the one who made decisions to ease her burden. I put her wants before mine. She’s never expected me to do anything I didn’t want to. She defends me to families who try to speak ill of me. She reassures me when I fall into a spiral. She gives me choice. And I couldn’t see that because I didn’t want to. It’s so much easier to give control of your life to someone else because it prevents you from having to make any kind of life-altering decisions of your own, because then you have no one to blame but yourself when it all goes wrong.
All my mom did was try her best with the fate that Allah gave her. Maybe now it’s my turn to do the same.
