Chapter 17 #2
She hadn’t done anything wrong. Over and over, both at this wedding and for decades longer, Hena had bitten her tongue. So as not to make waves. So as not to feed the flames in the furnace.
But enough was enough. Auntie Hanifa didn’t get to shame her. She didn’t get to make her feel unwelcome at her own sister’s wedding. If the gloves were off—if Auntie Hanifa wanted to do this—Hena could hold her own.
“The accusations were false. You of all people know how gossip works,” Hena replied.
“Nice try,” Auntie Hanifa retorted. “The slideshow didn’t have rumors. It had proof.”
“If you want to believe what it said, go ahead.” Hena’s eyes narrowed. “But you’re welcome to keep your opinion to yourself.”
“We saw your fight with Nasir.” Auntie Hanifa snorted. “Are you asking us not to believe what we witnessed with our own eyes?”
Hena flinched. The fight was real and true. Stripped of all context, but still true.
“It must hurt to have the world see who you really are.” Auntie Hanifa took a step closer to her. “And what you did to your sister, that’s low. Even for you. Thank goodness for the good Samaritan who exposed you.”
“I wonder who the ‘kind soul’ was,” Hena said, using air quotes. “I’m guessing someone with a lot of free time and a small, hateful heart. Someone who enjoys entertaining themselves at the expense of other people’s pain.”
“Are you implying I did it?” Auntie Hanifa chuckled. “I’m flattered you think I know how to turn on a projector, let alone orchestrate that spectacle.”
“I have no idea what you’re capable of,” she said icily. “For the record, you don’t know anything about Nasir or me, or that moment.”
A crowd was steadily gathering around them, surely drawn to the lobby by Lucinda’s urgent message but sticking around for the show. Once again, she was the main event.
“Maybe not,” Auntie Hanifa conceded. “But we’ll get to the bottom of it soon enough. I’ve let the detective know. Poor Nasir’s fate may already have been sealed, but we can at least save Haris before you sink your claws any deeper into him. It’s like I’ve always said—once a slut, always a slut.”
It was Auntie Hanifa. The note slipped into her clutch at the bridal shower. Hena’s shoulders went rigid, fury rising sharp and fast. Before she could reply—
“Out.”
Lulu. She was marching toward them. Her expression was cold. Furious.
Upon seeing her, a gentler look crossed Auntie Hanifa’s face.
“Sweetheart, are you all right?” she asked. “You poor dear. I’m so sorry you—”
“Not. Another. Word. You are gone.” Lulu’s words sliced through the air like steel. “Someone will collect your things and send them to your home.”
A stunned hush fell over the room. Auntie Hanifa stood stock-still. It was like she hadn’t processed Lulu’s words. The truth was, Hena wasn’t sure she had either.
“Luma, darling,” Auntie Hanifa rushed to explain, “I was defending you. I understand she is your sister, but what she has done—trying to sabotage this wedding. The cake. The snakes. My dear, she nearly killed you! None of this is something anyone should defend. Family is family—but we must be clear-eyed.”
“I want you off the premises,” Lulu said evenly. “Now.”
Auntie Hanifa scanned the audience, searching for anyone to intervene. Surely someone would speak up for her, among all these friends she’d gossiped and whispered with all week.
No one did. Even Auntie Nipa stayed silent.
Auntie Hanifa’s eyes flew to Hena, then Lulu. “Neither of you took after your father,” she spat. “God knows I have tried to be magnanimous. I have tried to stand by your family. To support all of you despite everything. What has it gotten me? Absolutely nothing.”
“Safe travels,” Lulu said.
One of the security guards strode over to Auntie Hanifa. She mumbled under her breath before stalking out the sliding doors.
Lulu leveled a warning look at the crowd. “Does anyone else have anything they’d like to air out? Now’s the time.”
Everyone took their cue, promptly dispersing. Murmurs flitted through the air. There would be plenty to unpack once they were safely out of earshot, because when it came to drama, this wedding was certainly delivering.
Hena’s eye caught Irum’s. She stood off to the side, her expression unreadable. Hena tentatively approached her.
“Irum,” she said once they were face-to-face. “I’m really—”
“You have some nerve talking to me right now,” Irum said.
“Irum—”
“You lied.”
“I—”
“You lied. I asked when you last saw my brother. You looked me in the eyes and said you saw him the night before, at the mehndi, like the rest of us. You said it back then. You said it again this week.” She let out a bitter laugh. “Silly me, falling for your bullshit.”
“Irum, it was complicated—”
“The way you screamed at him.” Irum’s voice shook with rage. “You told him to leave. He left.”
“It’s…it’s not what it looks like.”
“Are you saying it was a fake video?”
“The footage was real. But there was more going on.”
“Well, I’m all ears. Go ahead. Fill me in.”
The truth hovered at the tip of Hena’s tongue. She wanted to tell Irum. She wanted to tell her everything.
But she couldn’t.
“Like I thought,” Irum said. “Sorry, Hena, but it didn’t look complicated to me.”
“I loved your brother,” said Hena. “I miss him every day. He was my best friend. Every day I wish things didn’t go down the way they did. What you saw was a fight. People fight. I never would have wanted him to disappear.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that you lied,” she said. “You lied to the police. To my mother. To me. You knew where he was the morning of the wedding. All these years you kept it to yourself. What if we’d known everything? What if that could have helped us find him?”
Hena didn’t reply. She couldn’t. She had lied. Because she’d made a promise to Nasir. To keep him safe. Because the whole point had been for no one to find him. But it didn’t mean Irum’s stony face wasn’t tearing her apart.
Before she could say more, a scream pierced the air.
Both women whipped around. The side door next to the reception desk was parted open. Hena raced through it and found Lucinda around the corner by the service entrance. She was hunched over, shaking from head to toe.
Then Hena saw. Lying near a shadowed corner by the resort’s air-conditioning units. A body. Motionless. Blood slicked the pavement beneath her.
Hena’s knees buckled as she realized who it was.
Gita.