Chapter 2
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It’s not too late.
That’s what Hena had told herself as she booked her flight. Packed her luggage. Ordered the rideshare to the airport.
It would have been easy enough to cancel.
To tell Lulu something came up. To send her regrets.
She’d gotten as far as composing the message, her finger hovering over the send button.
There was a reason she hadn’t been home in three years.
But then she remembered the slight wobble in her sister’s voice and knew there was no other choice.
Now she was gazing out at the starless night from the back seat of an Escalade, hurtling toward a past she had vowed never to return to.
Hena traced her thumb along her bandaged index finger. Two days later, it still throbbed. She hoped the sharks she was about to see didn’t smell blood in the water.
At least it was a quick trip. She’d booked the first flight out on Sunday. And from arranging this car service to putting her up in a resort two towns over from Pembroke Pines, Lulu had been thoughtful. She understood Hena wanted to be as far from the swamplands of her family home as possible.
But looking out at the mangroves swaying in inky waters, she was reminded how much of this state was covered in wetlands. She thought her sister would have booked a swanky beachside resort in Las Olas. Instead, the car continued westward, deeper into the marshy dark.
Eventually, the swamp gave way to a manicured lawn.
Ahead, a sign appeared: Vista Del Sol. The hotel loomed in the distance, bone white against the night sky.
Spires rose from each corner like watchtowers.
Grand arches framed the gilded entryway.
More like a castle than a hotel, it glittered beneath the moon.
The SUV rumbled over a drawbridge, then pulled up to the entrance. A dark-haired bellhop in a festive red uniform promptly emerged to gather her things. Hena moved to tip him, but he shook his head, refusing to accept it. Curious.
Stepping inside, Hena felt like she’d wandered into a Moroccan palace.
Pendant lights glowed overhead, their tricolor panes casting shadows across the marble floors and jewel-toned couches.
Two swans drifted in an indoor lagoon by the glass elevators.
Through the transparent back wall, she glimpsed a turquoise infinity pool framed by palms.
The resort was quiet. Almost too quiet. Looking around, Hena realized she was the only guest in the lobby aside from a man in a gray suit by the front desk, a garment bag draped over his arm.
“You should be all set, Mr. Davies,” the receptionist told the man as Hena approached. She stole a glance—correction: the very handsome man.
The woman handed him a gift bag as his phone buzzed. He stepped aside to check it, and she turned her attention to Hena. She wore a smart red dress, and her chestnut-colored hair was swept back into a neat bun. When Hena gave her name, the woman’s eyebrows shot up.
“Ms. Mirza. I’m so sorry, I should have known,” she said. “We’ve been expecting you.”
She pulled out a cream-colored envelope from the shelf behind her and handed it to Hena.
“Your key is inside. Wi-Fi info too. I suggest connecting ASAP, as cell service can be spotty. And be sure to download the wedding app for the digital keycard. You’ll be staying in one of our VIP suites over at the deluxe tower. Fourth floor. It has a private elevator. The keycards will open both.”
“Lucky.” The man next to her let out a low whistle as he stuck his phone back in his pocket. “I’m staying at the other tower with the plebes.”
He smiled, and Hena felt butterflies, which couldn’t be helped. With his broad shoulders, olive skin, and dark hair, he was, simply put, gorgeous. And he had about five inches on her, which meant he was at least six feet tall.
“Here for the wedding?” she asked him.
He nodded. “I’m Reza, one of the groomsmen. And I’m running late.”
“Hena. Sister of the bride. Don’t worry, desi standard time is taken very seriously in these parts. We’re only a touch behind.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” He put out his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
She shook it, ignoring the jolt that went through her.
“Ms. Mirza, before you go…” The woman at the counter scrawled something on a notepad and handed it to her. “I’m Lucinda. This is my personal number. If you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to reach out.”
Reza raised an eyebrow, and Hena pushed back a laugh. Being the bride’s sister appeared to have its perks.
“Do you know where tonight’s welcome dinner is?” Hena asked Lucinda. “I forgot to ask for the address.”
“Tonight’s event is in the Parakeet dining hall, just around the corner.” She slid a gift bag across the desk. “This will have all the pertinent information you’ll need.”
Hena peeked inside. There was Voss water. Snacks. La Mer lip balm. Apple AirPods. And a hefty binder embroidered with Lulu and Khaled’s names. The first page featured a welcome note from the happy couple. Hena flipped to the next page. And the next.
Friday, January 9. Welcome Party
Saturday, January 10. Bridal Shower
Sunday, January 11. Dholki
Monday, January 12. Mayoun
Tuesday, January 13. Mehndi
Wednesday, January 14. Nikkah
Thursday, January 15. Shaadi
Friday, January 16. Walima
Hena blinked. This couldn’t be right. Lulu said the wedding was tomorrow. Didn’t she?
Thumbing through the binder, the events were not limited to formal wedding festivities.
A million optional ones were packed into each day as well.
Spa days. Art deco tours. An on-site class on towel art.
A fortune teller reading. A video booth was set up in the business center, and guests were encouraged to record messages for the bride and groom.
And—Hena flipped back to the main festivities and stared at the addresses printed beneath each invitation—the wedding events were here. Every single one took place at this resort.
“See you in a little while,” Reza told her.
She managed a limp wave as he headed toward the elevators.
A collective burst of laughter echoed from the dining hall.
Hena now noticed the edge of orange and yellow flowers peeking out from around the corner.
The faint hint of music. They were there.
Her family. Her community. She understood now that Lulu wasn’t giving her a reprieve from the chaos by putting her up here.
She was delivering her straight into it.
“Hi, Hena.”
Lulu. She walked toward Hena from the dining hall, and in an instant Hena’s frustration was replaced by a lump growing in her throat.
Gone were the blue locks and oversized bangs, replaced by her natural dark hair, curled and falling past her shoulders.
Her golden kamiz skimmed the floor, a matching veil draped to the side.
Her arms were filled with glittering bangles.
Lulu was all grown up, but when Hena looked in her eyes, there she was.
Her baby sister. As irritated as Hena felt, god, she’d missed her so much.
As Lulu grew closer, instinct kicked in. Hena pulled her into a hug. She pretended not to notice how Lulu’s body tensed. How she patted Hena politely before pulling away.
“Thanks for coming,” she said.
Hena pointed to the binder of events. “You told me the wedding was tomorrow.”
“The wedding begins tomorrow. You knew this was a desi wedding, right?”
“I booked my return flight for Sunday morning.”
“Change it.”
“Lulu, I have work. Clients. You can’t just spring this on me last minute.”
“If I told you this wedding was a weeklong situation, would you have come?” She leveled Hena with a cool look. “Exactly. I really think you can manage to be around us for that long. I’m sure the yoga studio or whatever you’re designing can wait.”
Hena’s gaze swept over her sister. Her folded arms. Her distant demeanor.
It was one thing to hear Lulu’s tone over the phone, another to experience it in the flesh.
The new Lulu. More like her mother than Hena cared to stomach.
As with her mother, Hena saw there was no arguing with Lulu.
Hena rarely ever rescheduled; hopefully her clients would understand.
Searching for a neutral topic, she pointed to the indoor lagoon.
“I can’t believe you have real swans here.”
“Flown in from Scandinavia,” she said. “A bit silly, but they came with the property.”
“They’re beautiful.” Hena glanced around. “This resort is…wow. It’s gorgeous.”
Lulu smiled. “Thanks. I wanted something tasteful but tucked away. The wedding will be stressful enough.”
“It’s definitely your vibe.” Hena looked up at the glowing pendant lights. “Reminds me of a vacation we took to Morocco. You were so little.”
She remembered hoisting three-year-old Lulu on her back as their family walked down cobbled alleys, the heat beating down on them, Lulu humming songs while Hena prayed their father would not turn and snap at her. Their joy was so often a trigger for him.
“I remember that trip. It’s what inspired the theme.” Lulu paused. “This is my resort.”
“Yours?” Hena balked. “What happened to culinary school? Opening a restaurant was your dream.”
“Dreams change. Besides, this was important. Hotels are part of our DNA.”
Hena shifted. If hotels were part of their DNA, it was their father’s half—the part of herself she wished she could scrub away.
“I’ve been studying hotel management, waiting for the right property to hit the market,” Lulu continued. “When this went on sale a few months ago, it was like kismet. It feels like a way to keep Abu’s memory alive, you know?”
Hena couldn’t blame Lulu for wanting to follow in their father’s footsteps. Not when she didn’t know who he truly was. Ammi had taken great pains to keep Lulu in the dark. It’s why she’d liquidated every last property shortly after—
Nope. Hena shivered. Not going there.
She supposed this was what happened when you no longer spoke to your family.
You learned everything after the fact. Most days Hena had made her peace with this reality.
It was the cost of breaking away. Starting her own life far from this humid, mosquito-filled state and the toxic people who inhabited it.
But her kid sister bore no blame for any of the things that happened, and right now, Hena felt it deep in her bones—the cost of being absent.
“When did you buy it?” Hena asked her.
“It’s a wedding gift from Ammi. I can’t exactly access my trust yet, can I?”
Her tone was calm, but the words landed like a punch.
After liquidating their properties, Ammi set up trusts for both Lulu and Hena.
There were enough funds in there for neither of them to worry about money ever again.
Lulu was supposed to have gained access to hers on her twenty-first birthday, same as Hena, but their mother had delayed Lulu’s by five years.
Because of Hena. Because of the poor choices she had made.
“Ammi was pushing me to get a beachside property, but I liked the vibe of this place, and ecotourism is all the rage these days. You could call this the soft opening,” said Lulu.
“The wedding party and most of our close friends and family are staying here. That way Ammi doesn’t have to move back and forth.
I’m staying in the two-bedroom penthouse suite with her. It’s one floor above you.”
Ammi was staying here too. This evening got better and better.
Where is Ammi? Hena was about to ask. Before she could, a woman rounded the corner, heading straight toward them.
It was Irum. Nasir’s sister.
“Lulu,” she said as she breathlessly approached. She wasn’t the tomboy Hena once knew. Now she had winged eyeliner and blond highlights in her hair. Her silver dress shimmered beneath the lights. “There’s a snag with the table covers for tomorrow’s—”
She cut off, taking a half step back, finally noticing Hena.
“What are you doing here?” Hena blurted out.
Lulu gasped. “Hena, really? She’s only my maid of honor.”
Hena’s head spun. Maid of honor? Irum? Of all the things thrown at her tonight…
Lulu shot Hena a disapproving look before conferring with Irum. When they were done, Irum gave Hena a tight smile before heading off.
“Great going,” Lulu said once she was gone.
Was Lulu serious? “A heads-up would have been nice,” Hena managed to say. “I wasn’t expecting to see her here.”
“We were friends long before you and Nasir were a thing. After everything blew up—the gossip and bullshit—we leaned on each other.”
Hena cast her eyes down, chastened. She couldn’t imagine the avalanche of whispers following the wake of her canceled wedding. She had fled as soon as she could. Lulu and Irum didn’t have that option.
“By the way, I know this is last minute,” Lulu said. “But Ammi and I agree you should be a bridesmaid.”
“Oh.” Hena blinked. “Thanks, Lulu, but you don’t have to—”
“I actually do. People are talking.”
Of course it was about optics. Hena understood the logic, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt, much like the paper cut that still throbbed along her finger. Was this the real reason she’d been invited? To stave off whispers?
“We threw this week together quickly, so we kept the wedding party small,” Lulu continued briskly. “Khaled’s got his three groomsmen, and I have Irum, Maheen, and my college roommate Courtney.”
“Adding me is going to make your wedding party uneven,” Hena said.
“It is what it is.” She shrugged. “We’re flying by the seat of our pants. We didn’t even have time for matching outfits. We’re color coordinating instead.”
There was no point pushing back, was there? Lulu had clearly made up her mind.
“Sounds good,” Hena said.
She was edging toward the flowers and chatter when Lulu stopped her.
“They haven’t started dinner yet,” she said. “You have time to get ready.”
“I am ready,” Hena replied. “I changed in the sky lounge.”
She had on a silk midi dress with three-quarter sleeves. She’d even stopped by the bank to grab matching gold bracelets and earrings to complement her gold clutch. But Lulu took in her outfit and pursed her lips.
“Too much?” Hena asked.
“Hena. Are you kidding me?”
Ah.
“I don’t own anything desi anymore,” Hena said.
Lulu sighed but said nothing. Hena followed her toward the dining hall. With each step the laughter and conversations grew louder. Her pace slowed. Her pulse quickened.
Lulu looked back at Hena. Her expression softened a touch.
“Thanks for coming,” she said. “I know this isn’t easy.”
Understatement of the century.
The last wedding she’d attended had been her own. Hena thought of the blood pooling on the carpet of her bridal suite. Blue and white lights flashing outside her family home. The way the police rushed inside the boathouse, guns drawn. The knife still clenched in her hands.
Hena had hidden away from these people for three years. She’d have happily stayed away the rest of her life. But whether or not she wanted to do this, it was time.