Chapter 15 #3
“What? Hena. No! Look, I know I don’t deserve you. I never have.”
“You’re right. You don’t deserve me. We were a mistake from the start.”
“Let me explain,” he begged. “Please.”
“No. No more excuses. I don’t want your apologies or explanations. Why can’t you get that through your head? I don’t want to hear from you ever again.”
“I was trying to fix things. I wanted to—”
“Fix things?” She let out an angry laugh. “You ruin everything you touch. Just go and stay gone. I wish I’d never met you.”
The audience gasped as the footage ended—which only happened because she had run out of the boathouse.
Thank god she had.
Thank god the rest of their conversation—when he stopped her outside, wrapped his arms around her, told her everything in lurid detail—hadn’t been captured.
But they weren’t done.
Surprised?
You wouldn’t be if you knew who Hena Mirza really is. She hasn’t changed one bit. Not in three years.
Remember the pythons? So many snakes, all in one spot. What are the odds…
A new video appeared, of a ginger-haired man in fatigues holding a machete.
“I was happy to help with the python party. Why wouldn’t I be?
Hold up, you asked who placed the order.
I got it right here. Here it is. Heena? Meerza?
Nice lady. Good tipper. Sure, it’s a weird ask for a wedding surprise, but it’s Florida, man.
And when someone offers you that kind of money, you don’t ask questions, do you? ”
A new slide. A photo of a delivery bag set by the lobby door. A close-up of the receipt showed an order of pistachios. Hena’s name printed on it, clear as day.
A new slide. New text.
Luma nearly died. How far will someone go for attention?
A screenshot of the website for Cakes by Stritala. A recorded phone call blasted through the speakers.
“I’m meticulous about my orders. I knew when the shaadi was, but when she called and asked for it to be delivered sooner, I moved heaven and earth to get it done in time, only to get yelled at for sending it early.
I have a reputation to maintain, so I backed off.
But maybe you’re right…maybe she’s not the one who called to change the delivery date.
I will say she certainly sounded like Lulu. So yes, it may have been her sister.”
The slides were coming and going so fast it was hard to keep up.
She’s always said she saw him last at the mehndi. We know now that is false.
Why did she lie?
Why did she wish she never met Nasir?
Was it because she had moved on?
A photo of Haris and her. The two of them on the boardwalk.
Here. At this resort. The air stuck in her throat.
It was taken from a distance, but there was no denying it was them.
It was from the afternoon they caught up, right before the bridal shower.
When they spoke of Nasir. Of how much they missed him.
But taken at this angle—his hand on her arm while she gazed up at him—it looked like a different kind of moment entirely.
You might be surprised to learn who the real Hena Mirza is. That’s only because you didn’t know.
Now you do.
A knife appeared. That knife. The same one.
We will never forget.
The lights turned back on. A hushed silence filled the room.
“Someone sent me a sneak preview.” Irum glared at Hena. “I guess we all know the truth now, don’t we?”
Beads of perspiration dotted Hena’s forehead. The fortune teller had said this, hadn’t she? She said someone would betray her. Whether she conjured it from her own premonition or was paid handsomely—like the python hunter must have been—to say those words, it didn’t change the truth.
“Hena…” It was Haris. He was hurrying over. “Are you all right?”
She wanted to reply, but she couldn’t stop looking at Lulu. The hurt, so clear on her face. Wordlessly, Lulu ran out of the room.
Only moments earlier they’d talked. They’d cleared some of the pain and complicated feelings between them.
Hena felt broken. Truly and utterly broken. A tear slipped down her face. She moved to follow her sister, but Haris stopped her.
“We need to talk,” he said. “That slideshow—”
“Not another word!” Auntie Nipa shrieked, rushing up to them.
“Mom,” Haris began in warning. “Don’t.”
Auntie Nipa lunged toward her. Haris gripped his mother by the elbow, holding her back. Her face was red with rage.
“It’s one thing to draw your own family’s name into the mud,” she shouted. “But to bring my son into this? How dare you!”
She wanted to defend herself. She couldn’t.
It was as though the slideshow had taken everything out of her. She needed to go. Haris argued with his mother as Hena raced out of the hall. Toward the suites. She jabbed the elevator button.
She’d talk to Lulu. Explain.
The elevator pinged. The doors slid open. She stared at the gaping space.
What if Lulu refused to speak to her?
What if she didn’t believe her?
Tears slipped faster down her face as a hand rested on her shoulder.
It was Reza. He eyed her quietly.
“Do you want to get out of here?” he asked.
The thought of leaving sounded good. Actually, it sounded perfect.
She met his gaze. “How about that boat trip?”