Chapter 20
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The shaadi was in less than an hour. Reza never did drop by.
There had been no call. No follow-up text.
Not that she felt a pit in her stomach. Not that she was checking her phone every few seconds like a lovesick teenager.
Maybe he got caught up with his errand. Maybe it was another migraine.
Or maybe if it walked like a duck and acted like a duck, it was a duck.
Maybe their night on the boat meant more to her than it did to him.
Her phone rang. She startled. But it wasn’t Reza. It was Lulu. She wanted Hena to come up to her room.
She was seated at her makeup table when Hena arrived. She wore a bloodred ghagra, the fabric fanning around her. Her hair was swept up in a flawless French twist, but her face was bare.
“You look stunning,” Hena told her.
“Thanks. The makeup artists are stuck in traffic,” she said. “We’re running behind.”
“The shaadi can’t start without you, right?”
“True.” A pensive look crossed her face. “I need a favor. It’s a big ask.”
“I’m afraid I don’t do wedding-level makeup.”
She laughed. “Noted. No, what I wanted to ask you is—and you can say no, I won’t be upset—”
“You’re making me nervous.”
She took a deep breath. “Will you walk me down the aisle?”
Hena’s heart lifted at the unexpected question.
“Ammi can’t,” Lulu continued. “She’s in a lot of pain and—”
“Of course I’ll walk you down the aisle, Lulu.” Hena reached for her sister’s hand. “I’d be honored.”
Lulu exhaled, relieved. “Thanks, Hena. And listen, don’t worry about safety. As far as I’m concerned, this place is Fort Knox. If someone is trying to fuck with you—I’d like to see them try. The cameras will be fixed by tomorrow too.”
“Good,” Hena said, relieved. She glanced at Lulu. They had never talked about her reaction upon discovering Reza in Hena’s bedroom. Was now an awful time to bring it up?
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Reza,” she said carefully. “I should have mentioned he was there.”
Something shifted in Lulu’s expression. Hena couldn’t read it.
“That was a surprise,” she finally said.
Hena studied her sister. It was more than that, wasn’t it?
“Do you not like him?” she asked Lulu.
“It’s not that.”
“But it’s something,” Hena pressed. “I know it’s a bit impulsive of me, but…”
“I was surprised,” Lulu said. “I guess I thought I knew what was up at this wedding. You got me. He is cute, though. I see the appeal.”
Did she mean it? Or was this a polite deflection?
She had more questions, but Lulu’s phone rang. The wedding planner. A seating snafu on the groom’s side. The moment was gone. She’d prod later.
The sun had fully set by the time she got back to her suite. Her white-and-gold sari hung on the armoire. On the vanity sat a red box her aunt had dropped off earlier. She opened it and her breath caught. It was her mother’s favorite diamond set. The one she’d worn to Haris’s wedding.
A note rested beneath it in Ammi’s handwriting.
This is yours now.
Tears stung as she lifted out the necklace. The flawless diamonds glittered beneath the lights. She loved it. But right now, holding it in her hands, this piece of jewelry felt like her mother saying goodbye.
Hena changed into her sari. She was fumbling with the necklace’s clasp when there was a knock on the door.
“Good news,” Haris said when she let him in. “I was able to reach the sheriff.”
“The sheriff?” She raised her eyebrows.
“I don’t trust Milcheck. Figured I’d go above him and get some answers about what’s really going on. He’s there for another hour, so I’m going to catch him before he leaves.”
“Now?” she asked. “You’ll miss the wedding.”
“This is important. The sooner we can sort this out, the sooner you aren’t forced to stay in town against your wishes. Don’t worry, the station’s not far from here,” he assured her. “I let Khaled know I’ll be back as soon as I can. Save me a slice of cake?”
She promised him she would, and nodded to her necklace. “Do you mind helping me put this on?”
“Of course.”
They stood in front of the vanity, and his fingers brushed the back of her neck as he clasped the necklace. She trailed her fingertips along the diamonds, the stones cool against her skin.
“Thanks, Haris.”
He lingered for a beat. “You look beautiful. Then again, you always do.”
Her heart skipped, but she kept her eyes on the mirror. “You’re sweet.”
“Just honest.”
She met his gaze in the reflection. He was looking at her. His eyes steady. Khala’s words came back to her: I see the way he looks at you.
She tried to push it away, but the words clung to her now.
Her mother and Khala had gotten in her head.
That was all. They didn’t know Haris like she did.
He was always ready to help at a moment’s notice.
That was the kind of friend he was. It was how he’d always been.
That didn’t mean she should take advantage of him.
“I need to pay you.” The words tumbled out of her as she tried to find her footing.
“Pay me?” he repeated.
She turned to face him. “For your time. You’ve done all this work and we’ve never once talked about payment. That’s not right.”
“Don’t worry about that.”
“Haris—”
His hand lifted. Gently, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Nasir left a mess in his wake,” he said. “If I can help you, I want to.”
Nasir did leave a mess, didn’t he? This right here, their shared memory of the man they both loved, was what bound them.
He promised to keep her posted. When he left, she pulled out her makeup bag and set it on the vanity.
She ran a finger along her neck where Haris’s hand had been a few moments earlier. The memory of the warmth in his eyes sent a flush to her cheeks.
Which made no sense. She didn’t see Haris that way. Not when he was so tied to Nasir. To the past. To this place. She couldn’t.
Could she?
There was a knock. Opening the door, she was met by a tall woman with a suitcase in tow. A makeup artist. Bride’s orders.
The woman layered Hena with foundation and concealer and eye shadow. When she was done, Hena looked at her reflection in the mirror: Red lips. Highlighted cheekbones. Thick lashes. A jolt of unease ran through her as the bride she had once been looked back at her.
She headed down to the main lobby. Lulu was in a bridal suite off to the side. Twenty minutes to go. The wedding planner invited Hena to wait with Lulu until it was time, but taking in the shaadi hall, the happy feeling bubbling inside her faded. Nasir’s parents were attending tonight.
Or at least, they might be.
And if they were here, she needed to get ahead of it.
“I’ll be right there,” she told the planner.
The last thing she wanted was to be the center of some awful confrontation while trying to walk her sister down the aisle. If his parents were here, she needed to rip off the bandage and get whatever it was they wished to do or say over with.
It was clear why Lulu had saved this space for the most significant event of the week—the celebration following the nuptials.
The hall was grand with vaulted ceilings.
Red and pink flowers draped the windows.
The candle centerpieces glittered gold beneath heavy chandeliers.
But she wasn’t here to take in the scenery—she needed to confirm if his parents were here.
Judging by the hushed tones and shocked expressions, they were.
Now what?
She hadn’t thought this through. What would she say if they confronted her? His mother was unpredictable at best.
Then she saw.
Her breath grew shallow.
The edges of the room grew fuzzy.
Nasir’s parents were here. But that wasn’t why she was rendered frozen to her spot.
It was because of the man.
He was dressed for the occasion. A crisp gray suit. Silver tie. Polished leather shoes. One would think he was just another wedding guest.
Except he wasn’t.
He was Nasir.