Chapter 19 #2
“Why I married him is no mystery,” her mother said at last. “He was charming. Handsome. He had a charisma that drew everyone to him. The bigger question is, once the mask came off, why did I stay?”
“It’s not easy to leave,” Hena said. “Not someone like him.”
“Some people leave, though, don’t they?” Her mother looked toward the window, then back at her.
“Gita did. The one time I tried, early on in the marriage, I barely made it out of the driveway before he dragged me back in and—” She exhaled sharply.
“No use dredging it back up. The long and short of it is, after he was done, he let me know what he’d do to my sister if I pulled something like that again. ”
He threatened Khala? A tremor went through Hena. “That’s horrific.”
“That was that.” Her mother shrugged. “You wouldn’t believe how fast I folded.”
She tried to imagine her mother then. Younger than Hena herself was now. Stuck with a monster she couldn’t leave. She was surprised her mother was telling her. Was it because she was dying? Because there was no sense holding on to secrets anymore?
“You can’t blame yourself for staying,” Hena told her.
“Well, whose fault was it, then? Besides, I wasn’t the only one trapped in that house.” She fell into a sudden coughing spell. After a moment it passed, and she sighed. “Thank god we shielded Lulu, but you—you suffered too.”
She had suffered. This was the moment to tell her mother exactly how much. The words, everything she’d longed to say, pressed against her. But her mother waved a hand.
“There’s no changing the past, so why dwell? Still…” She took a beat. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter. “When I see Gita, I can’t help but think of what could have been. Maybe she’ll get the chances I never had.”
“It’s great that you’re supporting and encouraging her,” Hena said.
“She’s a clever girl. And it’s important to have a few people around you who aren’t vultures. The guests have been quite something this week.”
Hena arched a brow. “If you know how toxic they can be, why do you keep up with them?”
Her mother looked at Hena like the answer was obvious. “Because some are family, and others I’ve known so long they may as well be.”
“But you’ve said it yourself—they can be awful.”
“You think it’s so easy, don’t you?” Ammi scoffed.
“We have history. That counts for something. Yes, they can be awful, but they’re mine.
When I first got my diagnosis, they were there for me.
Set up meal trains. Brought food. Flowers.
I’m sure some dropped by looking for gossip—but for better or worse, they’re home. ”
Hena processed her words. This was the most honest exchange they’d had in years.
“I’m glad they’ve been supportive of you,” she said.
“They have. But Hanifa must go.”
At least there was that. Auntie Nipa needed to be next, even if she was Haris’s mother.
Her mother fell into another coughing spell. Hena gave her medicine. She choked it down before resting her head on the pillow again. After a few moments, the coughing passed.
“Now. Let’s discuss your suitors,” she said briskly, once she’d recovered.
Hena rolled her eyes. “Next topic, please.”
“I’ve heard it’s between Reza and Haris. Personally, I favor Haris.”
“Haris is a friend,” she said. “That’s all.”
“Well, if you want my opinion, friendship is underrated. It’s the best foundation. Haris had a rough stretch, but he’s come out of it with sense. That’s more than I can say for most.”
“Ammi—”
“No need to get defensive on me,” Ammi huffed. “All I’m saying is I see the way he looks at you.”
Heat crept up Hena’s neck. Khala and Ammi had clearly been trading notes. She couldn’t blame them—Haris had been a godsend this week. He’d stepped in as her lawyer without a second thought. Because it was the Haris way—it always had been. But even if something more was possible between them…
“Haris was Nasir’s best friend,” Hena said.
“Was.” Her mother’s voice grew gentler, just slightly. “You can’t live in the past. At some point, you have to move on.”
She stiffened. Ammi was many years late for this conversation.
“I have moved on. I have a whole new life out in San Francisco. A thriving business. Friends.”
“You haven’t moved on,” her mother replied. She tapped her temple. “Not here.” Then she pressed a hand to her heart. “Not here. You think I don’t see the walls around you?”
Who do you think I learned to build walls from?
Hena almost said, but she bit her tongue.
They were talking. For the first time in who knows how long, they were having a real conversation.
And the truth was, as much as Hena hated to admit it, her mother was right.
Her dates over the years were engaging and fun, but most of their conversations stayed surface level—about a favorite movie they’d seen, or what menu items looked most enticing.
Hena liked it that way. Loved it, in fact.
There was a reason parents urged their children to stick to the shallows—the surface was where it was safe.
The last time she’d dove beneath the surface was with Nasir, and sure enough, she’d drowned, the pressure splintering her heart into a million pieces. Her walls were up for a reason.
Except here, her barricades didn’t feel quite so sturdy as they did in California. She’d told Reza things she’d never told a soul. With him it felt as though there were almost no barriers at all.
There was a knock on the door. Haris. Her mother brightened upon seeing him.
“We were just talking about you.”
Hena gave Ammi a warning look as he asked how she was doing before turning to Hena. “I was hoping you and I could talk.”
She excused herself, and they stepped into the sitting area.