Chapter 11
·
Hena stepped onto the oversized stucco balcony running the back length of the resort, overlooking the grounds beyond. A cool breeze brushed against her, rustling her dress. Unlike the cloudy, dark skies from the night before, the weather tonight was clear. A crescent moon hung in the night sky.
The mayoun had been underway a few hours, and the ceremony of applying pasted turmeric to Lulu’s arms and hands to make her skin glow and shimmer for the wedding was at last blessedly done.
Through the oversized windows of the hall, she watched the guests dance.
Their indistinct conversations drifted through the windows.
A handful of servers methodically arranged the kheer and ras malai for dessert, while others set up the chai table with carafes of polished silver and crystal bowls filled with different types of sugar.
On the back lawn, staffers moved about, their figures casting long shadows against the light, as they finalized the rescheduled fireworks display that would conclude the night’s festivities.
She shouldn’t have been out here, away from it all, but she needed a breather. Despite the twenty-four hours that had passed, she still felt like she was recovering. Her mind tried to unravel what didn’t need unraveling—not when the facts lined up exactly as they should.
The storm had caused a power outage. It had only affected the penthouse because—according to Lulu—it had been built on a separate grid.
The creaking sounds she’d heard, creepy as they were, had come from the building’s foundation settling against the wind.
And the knife, the thing that had most chilled her to her core, was the easiest to explain. Lulu loved her expensive knives. Hena had checked the cutlery drawer in her own suite. Sure enough, she’d found a collection of Shun knives there too.
She should have been relieved. An easy enough explanation for everything.
Nothing shady. Nothing awry. No one had been lurking behind her in the shadows.
Instead, she felt unmoored. Because it was like the universe had strung together a maddening string of coincidences specifically designed to torture her over her past.
Or maybe—she gripped the edge of the balcony—the universe was trying to force her to face her past. Because that moment in the darkened penthouse had, for a few terrifying moments, felt like a repeat of the night in her family boathouse—the one doubling as her bridal suite.
She had been so preoccupied she didn’t notice at first. Not as he crept closer and closer. She’d been glued to her phone. Texting Nasir. Even though she knew she’d never hear from him again. Not if things went as they should.
The creaking of the floorboards had alerted her to his presence.
“Where is he?” a voice had asked.
When she looked up, startled at the unexpected words, there he was. The masked man. Inches from her face. Anger radiated off him like heat.
“I won’t ask again,” he said in a low growl. “Where is he?”
“I—I don’t know,” she began. “I haven’t heard from him since yesterday evening. The mehndi—”
He didn’t let her finish. His hands clamped around her throat.
“This isn’t personal,” he said as her vision blurred. “Just sending a message.”
“Please don’t do this,” she gasped, struggling.
Her nails scratched at his hands, but his gloved grip was an iron vise.
Tightening with each passing second. Her vision had speckled with darkness.
The pain unlike anything she’d experienced before or since.
Her body had grown heavy as her back slammed against the dressing table, which cut painfully against her.
Useless tears had leaked down her face. The world came in and out as her hands dropped to her sides. This was it. She was done.
Through her hazy vision, her head lolling against the dressing table, her eyes landed on the knife resting on the edge.
Lulu’s gift. Seconds from blacking out, she strained, inching her hand toward it.
Her fingers curled around the hilt. Her body acted on instinct.
She lunged forward. The blade found its mark.
It was a sharp, clean cut. His grip on her released in an instant as his hands flew to his midsection.
He cursed as she fell with a hard thud to the ground.
He had staggered backward, breathing heavily, hatred burning in his eyes. She could tell she had injured him badly, but it hadn’t stopped him from taking a halting step forward. To finish what he’d started. Then—
“Hena!” Khala’s voice rang sharp and clear from outside the boathouse. “We’re running very behind, my dear!”
The man followed the sound. His eyes fixed on the door. Deciding. Debating.
“Please,” she croaked. “Don’t hurt her. She didn’t do anything.”
The doorknob began to turn. He bolted. In three long strides, he was at the back window, slipping out into the evening, leaving a trail of blood dripping in his wake.
A rustling sound pulled her back to the present, and Hena shivered. Some people believed it was important to face the past and heal one’s trauma, but her? She had no interest in doing so. She would much rather forget.
She heard footsteps. Reza was walking toward her. He wore khakis and a buttoned white shirt with blue embroidered flowers—the uniform for the groomsmen tonight, to complement the bridesmaids’ gowns.
“Sorry I couldn’t join you on the sailboat,” Hena said. “Lulu was tied up with wedding stuff, so I needed to go to the doctor’s appointment with my mother.”
“Family first,” he said. “How is she?”
“The doctor thinks this new combination of medicine they’ve started her on will do the trick, but she’s well beyond the highest doses for most of what she’s taking at this point.
” Hena swallowed as she thought back to the cold, sterile room.
The doctor’s grim expression. “Hopefully, this new prescription does the trick. The cough is completely tapping her out.”
“I’m sorry, Hena. I can’t begin to imagine.”
“Yeah. Well.” Hena forced a shrug. “How was sailing?”
“I didn’t go.”
“Why not? You were looking forward to it.”
He shrugged. “Figured I’d wait for you.”
“Aw, I’m sorry.”
“Why?” He tilted his head and gave her a smile. “I’d say you’re worth the wait.”
“Good to know,” she said, keeping her tone light, hoping he didn’t detect the flush in her cheeks. She looked out at the hedge maze across from them. Reza followed her gaze.
“Have you tried going through it yet?” he asked.
“I know myself. I’d get lost.”
“Why don’t we check it out together?”
“Yeah?” She turned to look at the wedding hall behind them. “I think the fireworks are set to go off soon…and the maze looks a little creepy at night, doesn’t it?”
“Don’t be scared.” He gave her a solemn look. “I’ll keep you safe.”
She arched a brow. “Cheesy much?”
“A little?” he admitted. “Seriously, it’s all lit up. Looks fun.”
What was the harm? Besides, she wasn’t about to pass up a chance to spend time with Reza.
They walked down the steps and crossed the lawn.
Up close, the maze was taller than it had appeared from the balcony.
The hedges towered over them, and the leaves were sharp and spiky.
The path inside was paved and narrow. But with the unexpected twinkle lights threaded throughout the interior of the maze, and Reza by her side, it felt like they’d left the Everglades entirely, crossing into a place that belonged only to them.
“I think Lulu took the maze concept a little too seriously,” Hena said as they walked. “This thing is intricate. Is there an actual way out?”
“I have a feeling we’re almost through. Let’s go left,” Reza said, confidently leading them to a dead end for the second time.
“Wrong again.” She poked him. “Some protector you are.”
“Maybe I overestimated my navigation skills,” he conceded.
“If it wasn’t spiky, we could’ve cut through here.” Hena pointed to the gaps in the hedge maze to their right, where bits of brown leaves and dead branches had splintered and fallen to the ground. Through it she could see hints of light from the resort.
“Are you suggesting we cheat our way out of this?” Reza looked scandalized. “We got this, Hena. I believe in us.”
They strolled down side alleys, doubled back to the main arteries, and eventually glimpsed the end in sight. Their shoulders brushed as they reached the other side. The swamp glimmered beneath the moonlight.
“I need more wealthy friends,” he said, looking around. “A week here and I feel properly spoiled.”
“I tend to get cabin fever at all-inclusive resorts,” she said. “Places like these were my mother’s vacation of choice—she’d drag me along to massages and mud facials with those cucumber slices on your eyes. I hated every second of it.”
“Massages and facials. Sounds rough.” Reza raised an eyebrow.
“World’s tiniest violin for me.” She elbowed him playfully. “Were your family vacations more nature-based?”
“We didn’t take vacations. I’d say the closest we ever got to resorts was working at them.”
“Yeah?”
“They were nice resorts, a lot like this one. Ours catered to the Disney tourists. My dad tended the gardens. My mother cleaned rooms. My two older sisters did odd jobs—towel duty, shifts at the kids’ clubs. They toiled seven days a week, but we still lived paycheck to paycheck.”
“That sounds really hard.”
“It was. Especially after my mother died. My dad shut down, so my sisters had to keep everything running. I was the baby, so they basically raised me.”
“I’m guessing they were probably too young to take care of a child.”
“They tried their best.” He smiled faintly. “My oldest sister used to make Mom’s favorite omelets each Sunday all the way until she graduated and moved out. My other sister would swipe gummies from the kids’ club. She’d hoard them all week, then leave little stashes on my bed if I had a rough day.”
Hena felt a tug of familiarity. “It was KitKats for me. My aunt raised me when I was little. Whenever I had a bad day, one of those bars would magically appear on the kitchen table.”
“That couldn’t have been easy, not having either of your parents around.”
“It was the best thing that could have happened to me.”
The admission startled her. She didn’t talk about her family. Not even with her family. But Reza was a good listener. There was something about him that made her want to tell him. Except she couldn’t tell him. There were some things she was meant to keep to herself.
She was thankful he didn’t press.
They fell silent for a few moments, the scent of night jasmine lingering in the air. She needed to change the topic. Back to something lighter.
“You said you like this resort,” she said. “What’s the best part?”
He thought for a moment. “Hard to narrow it down. The service is unbeatable. You already know how good the food is. I tried the Jacuzzi the other day, and it’s top-notch. The swans, though…” He shook his head.
“What about the swans?” she asked.
“One of them tried to bite me.”
“You weren’t trying to pet it, were you?”
“They’re cute.” He flashed her a sheepish grin.
“Reza, no! Swans are notoriously vicious.”
“Trust me, lesson learned.”
“So I guess it’s safe to say the swans are out of contention.”
He was still smiling, but a look passed over him as his eyes held hers.
“I’d say my favorite part of being here is pretty obvious, don’t you think?”
“Yeah?” she asked, the word coming out lower than intended.
He didn’t look away. “Yeah.”
Crickets chirped in the darkness. The air between them felt like it was shifting.
Only then did Hena realize how close they were standing.
So close she could feel the heat of his body, inches from hers, his breath warm against her skin.
His gaze drifted from her eyes to her lips.
It lingered there. Her heart fluttered. Because she saw it then: the wanting.
The same want she felt, written all over his face.
She touched his shirt sleeve as his hand grazed her wrist. Goosebumps trailed her arms. She took one small step closer and lifted her gaze to his. Leaning closer, she almost forgot to breathe.
“The button goes here,” a nearby voice burst out.
They jumped apart.
“I know that!” a man retorted. “It’s literally what I’m doing!”
A group of people were adjusting wires for the fireworks show a few paces away. They tested the platform and tapped the mic, not even noticing Hena and Reza in the darkness.
She felt jolted awake as though from a dream, except her skin still tingled from where his hand had grazed her. It wasn’t a dream. It had been real. But the moment had passed.
“We should—” she started.
“Yeah.” He nodded to the resort.
They sidestepped the maze and walked across the grassy lawn back to the festivities. They exchanged no words, but she could feel his eyes drifting toward her.
Hena steadied herself. She tried to make sense of the emotions coursing through her. That she longed to kiss him was nothing new—she had since she’d first laid eyes on him at the registration desk.
It was the other emotion that was more complicated to sift through: a sensation like she was standing on the precipice of a skyscraper, staring down.
They stepped into the hall. The up-tempo dance music had slowed—now classical sitar music played softly in the background. She ignored the curious looks as people noticed them entering together. No doubt it would fuel speculation. If only they had given the crowd something real to talk about.
She grabbed a ceramic cup and poured herself chai from the carafe. Reza stood beside her. His fingers trailed the rim of a cup.
“Should I pour you some too?” she asked, reaching for his cup.
Reza didn’t respond, his attention elsewhere. Toward something at the entrance.
In fact, everyone had stopped talking and was looking in the same direction. At him. The man with the dark mustache and stoic expression.
Dread washed over her.
Was she seeing things?
No. She wasn’t. She knew this man well.
A manila folder tucked under his arm, he surveyed the room.
His eyes landed on hers, and he walked up to her.
“Hena Mirza?” Detective Milcheck asked. “We need to talk.”