Chapter 16
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The boat rocked gently as Reza took her hand and helped her board. She braced a hand against the rail unsteadily, her mind replaying the slideshow—the images, the accusations, the knife. They had been quiet on the drive over, but he watched her now with tense concern.
“You okay?” he asked.
“No,” she told him. “It’s fine. Let’s just go.”
Reza chatted with the owner of the boat before they took off. They were checking the sailboat—it was a classic wooden one, sleek and simple. Reza’s hands moved with practiced ease, testing the ropes, the rudder, making sure everything was in place.
She scanned the landscape for anything—or anyone—suspicious. Because if someone had been watching her in the boathouse…If someone had gone through the trouble to show the video to everyone at the wedding in order to frame her…Who was to say they weren’t watching her right now?
A lighthouse stood tall off the peninsula.
Even in the middle of January, the air here was thick with salt and humidity.
The water glistened under the lights of the dock.
There was nothing amiss. Nothing awry. She tried to draw a deep breath but couldn’t push away the unease pressing against her ribs.
She looked down at the clothes she had hastily changed into—a thin-strapped sundress that cut at her knee. Sandals. Not exactly sailing gear, but better than the flowing gown she’d had on earlier. Reza was in a simple T-shirt and track pants.
While Reza chatted with the boat owner, she checked her phone.
Haris had called twice. There was a text from him now:
Are you all right? Call me.
She let him know she would. Soon. But all she could think of was how his mother had screamed at her in front of hundreds of people. How he had to physically restrain her. How could she ever return to that resort?
The note slipped into her clutch at Lulu’s bridal shower flashed before her eyes. She’d dismissed it as snarky aunties. Now every unsettling event, from the pythons to Lulu’s allergic reaction to even the misdelivered cake, had proven to be a carefully choreographed attack against her.
By whom? Auntie Nipa? Auntie Hanifa? Both of them together?
She tried to shut down her thoughts before they could spiral. She’d escaped the resort because she needed space to breathe.
But as she finished scrolling her messages, a cold weight settled in her stomach. She’d texted her sister on the way here. Told her they needed to talk.
Lulu still hadn’t responded.
They pushed off the pier. As the dock slipped from view and the city faded behind them, something in her unspooled the slightest bit. Closing her eyes, she drew a deep breath. The discordant hum in her head quieted a notch.
“Can I help?” she asked, walking over to Reza.
The muscles in his forearms were taut as he fixed up the sail. Knotted the rope.
“We’re all set,” he told her. “The wind will do its thing.”
The sail caught and they moved effortlessly, the only sounds coming from the creaks of the boat, the rustle of the sails, the splash of water against the hull, and the distant cries of seabirds.
“So, this was teenage Reza?” she asked. “Other kids sneak beer. Meanwhile, you’re mastering sails and knots.”
“I didn’t get out as often as I’d like,” he said. “But it’s nice, isn’t it? Being out here, navigating the boat yourself. It stills the mind.”
“It really does.”
Her stomach growled and Reza grinned.
“The cabin came stocked,” he said. “Let’s see what they’ve got.”
She followed him to the compact but cozy wood-paneled space.
“Watch your head,” he warned as she stepped inside.
They pulled out crackers, cheese, and fruit from a mini fridge.
Hena sank onto the built-in berth. It was thickly padded like a bed—so soft she could have lain back and fallen asleep with the sway of the sea.
Instead, she sat on the edge, stretching out, pretending not to notice how his eyes flicked to her legs, then quickly back to her face. He waited a beat.
“We should talk about what happened. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” she said automatically.
“Hena.”
She looked out at the water. Exhaled.
“I’m better now,” she said. “I needed this even though I know everything is waiting for me when I get back.”
She checked her phone. Still nothing from Lulu. The moment of peace she’d found started to fray.
“If Lulu thinks I could have done all that…” She blinked quickly. “Whoever it was made sure to have receipts. Literal receipts.”
“It’s bullshit. Come on. Anyone can make up a delivery receipt. I didn’t believe it. Not for a second.”
“Does it matter if it’s unbelievable? My mother always says if enough people say a thing is true, it might as well be. She’s right. Those videos. Those accusations…You don’t know the people around here like I do. If you knew what they say, all the things they think they know…”
“Like what?” His gaze held hers.
“I’m sure you’ve heard plenty about my family at this point.”
“I’ve heard bits and pieces. I much prefer this, though. Hearing about you, from you.”
He was being polite. She was sure he’d heard far more than bits and pieces. The truth was, she’d rather he know about her in her own words too.
So she told him.
About her father’s towering reputation—the way their standing crumbled after he vanished. She told him how her community reacted when they learned Nasir was marrying her—as though she were Hades luring Persephone into the Underworld.
As she talked, he drew his arm around her. Warm and solid. The more she told him, the lighter she felt.
“That’s a lot to carry,” he murmured when she finished. “I’m so sorry.”
A tear slipped down her cheek. He reached out, brushing it away.
They sat in silence for a few moments. She let out a breath and turned to him.
“I’ve been going on and on,” she said with a half smile. “I’m kind of sick of hearing myself talk at this point.”
“I think given the events of this afternoon, it should be all about you, don’t you think?”
“Still,” she insisted, “I want to know about you. Tell me something.”
His eyes searched hers. “What would you like to know?”
Everything. The thought startled her. I want to know everything about you.
“Anything you want to share,” she said instead.
He considered this, then nodded.
“I guess when you were talking about your father, I could relate.”
“You said he shut down after your mother died, right?”
“Those were the good days. Once my sisters grew up and moved out, he decided to get angry instead.”
His expression darkened. She took his hand.
“Using fists was his go-to,” he said. “Sometimes he got creative, though.”
He raised his shirt, revealing a faint but visible scar across his abdomen.
“Reza—”
“Metal hook. From a fireplace poker. Sophomore year of high school. I forgot to take the trash out on time. Like I said.” He looked at her stricken expression. “Creative.”
“That’s awful.”
“That one actually got him in trouble when a teacher noticed me bleeding through my shirt. Christian Davies got himself a little mug shot. He was more careful after that.”
Reza shrugged, but she recognized the hurt behind his eyes. It was the kind of hurt only a parent could inflict. The kind that stuck to you like a second skin.
“My father could get creative too,” she said. “He mostly hurt my mother. But as I got older, I became a punching bag as well. I couldn’t do anything right because I couldn’t be the son he’d wanted.”
The last time she saw her father, she had come home ten minutes late from school. Her study group had gone over. She’d made sure to get a teacher’s note confirming it because her father valued punctuality. He hated when people “wasted his time.” She’d shown him the note. He didn’t care.
Excuses, he’d sneered. That’s all you ever have.
And then, before she could reply, the punch. Straight in the abdomen.
She’d dropped to the floor. The rest was a blur. Still was. She only knew he’d beaten her so badly she coughed up blood. She knew from the urgent care visit that she’d suffered three broken ribs, a concussion, and two black eyes from her “fall down the stairs.”
She also knew he had been thirsting for more. Had her mother not come into the room when she had, she was sure she’d be dead.
“Sailing saved me,” Reza said. “One of the deckhands at the hotel I worked at in high school offered to teach me. Being out on the water reminded me there was more to life. That I could leave one day.”
“And you did.”
“I left as soon as I could. I haven’t spoken to my father in years. Still, when I talk about that time in my life, it all hurts like it happened yesterday. So how far did I really move on, you know what I mean?”
Hena nodded. She’d moved to the other side of the country to put as much space between herself and this place as she could. But even with the rolling hills out west, these flatlands of her childhood, these memories, still held her in their vise.
“Too bad a KitKat bar can’t make it all better,” he said with a soft grin.
“It helps.” She smiled at him.
A seagull soared overhead, settling onto a buoy. She leaned down to pluck a grape from the small table. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Reza’s gaze. How it lingered on her neckline as the fabric dipped down. He looked away quickly, but not quickly enough.
Hena leaned back and crossed her arms.
“I thought I was good at reading people,” she said. “But I can’t read you, Reza.”
His eyes flicked to her mouth before meeting her eyes. A million thoughts seemed to race through his head. He shifted closer. She felt the sweetness of his breath against her face.
“What are you reading?” he asked.
They sat so close, their foreheads were practically touching. She took in his full mouth. His jaw, chiseled from stone. She wanted to kiss him so badly she ached.
“I don’t know if I want to say,” Hena said. “What if I’m wrong?”
His eyes held hers so intently Hena could barely think straight. His jaw twitched.
“You’re not wrong.”
His hand dropped to her knee. Before she could reply, he kissed her.
It was a gentle kiss. Tentative. Slow. His mouth was soft and sure. The hint of stubble on his face brushed against her skin, sending shivers down her spine. His hands glided to her waist as she drew her arms around his neck, erasing any space between them. His mouth felt made for hers.
She moved closer. Traced her hand along his jaw. She kissed him again. Harder now.
His breath hitched, and then—it was like a dam had burst. Any restraint he had dissolved. His arms circled her tighter. His mouth pressed insistently against hers. Hungry.
She tasted the salt of the sea on his tongue.
She closed her eyes as his kisses traveled downward.
They trailed her jaw. Her neck. Sending goosebumps down her body.
He brushed aside the strap of her dress.
His lips pressed against her bare shoulder and she could scarcely breathe as he eased her back against the berth.
His hand skimmed to the zipper on the side of her dress.
He paused, searching her eyes. For what? Permission?
She grazed the hem of his T-shirt. With one yank, she slid it over his head. Let it fall to the side. He breathed heavily as she traced her fingers over his jagged scar, pressed her palms against his bare chest. She met his eyes.
“Don’t stop now.”
So he didn’t.
The boat swayed beneath them. The world outside vanished.
It was just Reza and her. Nothing else.