Chapter Eighteen
F our hours later, Zaf was standing on the rugby pitch, waving good-bye to the last of the lads, mentally patting himself on the back for pretending to be a real, live human during the length of a Tackle It session.
In reality, he wasn t human at all. He was a thousand shattered pieces, and for the first time in a long time, he honestly couldn t see a way to glue himself back together.
Trying didn t work.
He couldn t forget the look on her face, the horror and fear and disbelief when he d told her he loved her. Why the fuck had he told her-when he knew how scared she was, when she d just admitted how badly her twisted ex had fucked with her head-that he loved her?
Because he d wanted her to be okay again, to stop worrying.
He d seen her panicking, and instead of remembering that she was Danika and she needed time and space, he d treated her like she was someone else-someone who d be pleased with a big I love you moment.
Zaf realized that when he cared about something, he had a tendency to be .
. . rigid. To draw harsh lines and stick to them, to follow the path he knew.
But she d asked for baby steps, and he d fucking sprinted .
Since when did following the perfect script matter more than the woman he actually wanted to be with?
Trying didn t work.
He was still struggling to swallow that fact, its thorns drawing blood in his throat, when he looked across the field and spotted a familiar reed-thin figure haunting the edge of the pitch.
Mint-green hijab, cream blouse and trousers, with matching mint-green shoes peeking out.
Hollywood sunglasses and a tiny, glossy handbag.
Hands on her hips and a posture that said, Ugh, grass.
Kiran.
Something in Zaf crumbled, just a little bit. He strode over and snatched her into a hug, lifting her off her feet.
Watch it, she groused, whacking him with the handbag. You re crushing my silk.
He hugged harder. And she, despite her supposed annoyance, hugged back, grounding him like an anchor.
Kiran s blood siblings, all sisters, were scattered across the globe: an engineer in Toronto, a scientist in Nairobi, an artist in Lahore.
But Kiran was the type who found family everywhere, one of the shining silver links that held the shitty world together.
She d loved the Ansaris, loudly, from the start. And Zaf loved her, too.
After a while, she whispered in his ear, Sweetie, are you crying?
No, he said. I m leaking masculine pain from my eyeballs.
Kiran laughed. Zaf tried to, since that had been the point of saying it, but he couldn t quite make himself.
Because he hurt. He was hurting. Just thinking the words chipped away at some cold, concrete dam inside him, and the full force of his technicolor feelings spilled out like the world s most violent waterfall.
Fuck , he thought. Nope, no thanks, don t want that . But it came anyway.
Ouch, he muttered, and put Kiran down so he could rub his chest.
She peered up at him, concern creasing her brow. Zaf. What the hell happened?
Nothing.
Nothing? She shot the word back at him with a spade of skepticism.
Jamal strolled over, which was a surprise, because Zaf had been so out of it he d kind of forgotten his friend was even on the pitch. I called Kiran because you looked like you were dying and you wouldn t talk to me.
You re a snitch, Zaf muttered.
And when I was leaving, Kiran interjected, Fluffy told me that if you re upset it s probably because you re in love with your fake girlfriend.
Your daughter, Zaf said, is also a snitch.
Or you re just really obvious, Jamal supplied.
Kiran pointed a finger at him. You re not helpful. Go and finish clearing up. She hooked her arm through Zaf s, which might have been awkward if they didn t have years of experience navigating the height difference, and tugged him off down the field. Let s walk.
All right, he sighed, leaving Jamal huffing indignantly behind them.
After a few strides and long moments of silence, she nudged Zaf in the ribs. And talk. Let s walk and talk.
About? he asked dully, as if he didn t know.
Stop being annoying before I hit you with my bag again.
Really, what were sisters even for ?
Making you feel human when you re teetering on the brink of abandoning your mortal name and moving into a box in the woods.
Well, yeah. There was that.
This morning I told Dani I loved her. And she didn t believe me.
Kiran stared at him. Oh. Oh, dear. How long have you two been dating for real?
Er . . . At that point, about twelve hours. Depending on your perspective.
Kiran stared at him some more. Then she whacked him with her bag.
Ow . What? I talked!
Let me guess. You sprang all the emotional stuff on her before she was ready, she reacted badly, and now you re moping around like someone peed in your cereal. Kiran threw up a hand, which contained the Bag of Terror, and Zaf tried not to flinch in response. Men.
I know I messed up, he said. Holy fuck, did he know.
There were stones in his rib cage, burning coals in his belly, cement blocks set around his feet.
He felt as if a part of him had been hacked raggedly away.
The only thing keeping him upright was the knowledge that he d weathered worse storms, and that he d survive. That he d always survive.
But that didn t stop him fucking hurting.
I don t think she s ever going to want the things I want, he admitted, the words almost choking him.
She told me from the start, and I acted like I got it, but .
. . Part of me hoped that if I showed her things could be good, she d change her mind.
And that s just fucked up. Dani was the only one who could change her mind about us, and maybe she was going to, but I couldn t give her the time she needed to do it.
He paused. Or maybe she wasn t changing her mind at all, and she only spent the night with me because Inez Holly told her to. One of those.
Kiran s eyebrows flew up. I m not entirely sure what that last part means, so I m going to ignore it, if you don t mind.
Wish I could ignore it, he muttered. Trying didn t work .
The words haunted his mind again, and this time he noticed they were taking on the familiar, taunting cadence of an anxious fixation.
He took a breath, and another. Kept talking, because sometimes that was the only way to untangle his own knots.
Bottom line is, I think I hurt her, going too far, too fast. And I definitely hurt myself.
I don t know if we can do this, and she s positive we can t, so . . . maybe that s that.
Oh, Kiran murmured after a while. I see. I m sorry, Zaf. I m really sorry.
I know, he said softly.
Are you going to . . . talk to her?
I don t know. He wanted to. More than anything, he wanted to go after her and make everything right-because that s what he was supposed to do.
That s how you got to a happily ever after.
Except Zaf s desire for a happily ever after, and his idea of how love was supposed to look, had pushed him into this mess.
He thought for a moment longer, then shook his head.
I ve chased her too hard for too long, and all that did was make her panic.
Zaf knew panic. He knew the squeeze of fear, knew the way it left you shaken and unsure of who you were, and he didn t ever want to cause that feeling in someone he loved again.
Just the idea made him physically sick. I don t know what else to do except leave her the fuck alone.
If you ve overwhelmed her, Kiran said slowly, that might be a good idea. I know sometimes you worry about things being . . . right or wrong, ruined or perfect. But there are shades of gray, too, Zafir.
Yeah, he agreed. Yeah. He wanted to learn those shades-or rather, to get better at remembering them. He knew he could do it.
But one thing would never change: Zaf loved Danika in bold black-and-white, stark and completely unsubtle, no shades of gray to be found. He loved her absolutely and he loved her uncompromisingly. And if that was all wrong for her, he d just have to deal with the loss.
Ah, he was so fucking screwed. But at least he wasn t alone.
Zaf came to a stop, turning to face his sister. Kiran . . . have I ever said thank you?
She blinked, raised her eyebrows. For what?
For staying with me. Back then. When Dad and Zain-when they died. I tried to make you leave me alone. Or hate me. But you wouldn t.
Well, she said with a smile, you re impossible to hate.
Then her expression softened. You stayed with me, too, you know.
And Fatima, she couldn t ask for a better uncle.
Kiran reached up to put a hand on his cheek.
You re my little brother, Zaf. I love you.
I don t leave you. Your mother and I, Jamal and Fatima, we re all a family.
A family. A broken one, true, but broken didn t mean ruined.
He and Danika had broken clean in half this morning, but nothing about her was ruined, either.
Because the world wasn t split into unhappy endings and happily ever afters.
There were blessings everywhere and a thousand shades of joy all around him.
Every shade should be savored.
Danika wasn t entirely sure what death felt like, but she was certain her current state must be close.
True, nothing had actually harmed her. And yet, the minute she d slammed Zaf s front door behind her, she d felt as if several vital organs had been wrenched from her body all at once.
As if they were trapped on the other side of that door, slamming against the wood to reach her, and she could feel every last bruising smack.
Now, for what felt like the thousandth time today, a sob racked her shoulders, and the hollow of her empty insides ached.