*The next morning was spent in the confines of their suite. Adnan called for room service, and breakfast was a stately affair of omelettes, oatmeal, garlic bread with hummus and strawberry-flavored tea. They ate on the terrace, their silence occasionally broken by the clink of cutlery on ceramic. Below, the ever-constant turmoil of a thousand cars, buses and dreaded cyclists rumbling past reminded them that sooner or later, they would have to dive into the chaos at well. Afterwards, the remainder of the morning was spent touring the Upper-East side. Still looking to appease, Adnan took her to every jewelry store in the vicinity. Tiffany and Co. was their first stop, then they swept over to The Crown Building for a pitstop at Bvlgari, lingering just long enough for Afrah to choose a pair of diamond earrings. They crossed over to Trump Tower, where Adnan insisted on taking Afrah's picture before they headed into the Ice Cream Parlor. They popped into Gucci afterwards, where Afrah got
*Silence had always been Afrah's companion. Even now, after surrendering half of her soul to be replaced by someone else's, it still hovered around her like a second shadow. It wasn't so bad though. Silence was multifaceted after all, sometimes bearable and sometimes appalling. Silence in the presence of Adnan however was neither. It was blissful. She didn't have to worry about filling it; part of her knew instinctively that he was just as unbothered by it as she was. Ever since he'd returned to the hotel room, she'd studied his face, anxiously looking for a sign that he was uncomfortable with the muted air in the room. He seemed cheerful however, silently nodding his head as he worked on his laptop. They were scheduled for dinner in less than two hours, but neither one of them was in a hurry. Briefly, Afrah glanced over at the clothes she'd laid out for the evening. It was nothing fancy, a pair of dark, slim-fit jeans, a white, long sleeve shirt which her mother had bought for he
*Dinner was a stately affair at the L'artusi restaurant on 10th street. Afrah ordered the spaghetti with garlic, parmesan cheese and chilies, while Adnan ordered the Sweetbreads A La Plancha with lemon, capers, olives and currants. Both eyed the other's dish with a look of resigned contempt, but neither said a word. "You've been quiet all evening," Adnan spoke for the first time since they'd left the hotel. "What's wrong?""It's bad manners to speak while eating," she replied, twirling her fork around the spaghetti."Not to your husband, it's not," he said. "Talk to me.""Ever heard the phrase 'Silence is golden', dear husband?" she asked, a mocking smile on her face. "Well if silence is golden, then conversation is priceless," he replied. "Touché," Afrah said, laughing. Adnan laughed as well, reaching for his drink. "I've been thinking about getting a place here," he said, raising the drink up just to stare at it. Afrah sensed that he was trying to avoid her gaze. "You're free t
*They left New York the very next morning. Hand in hand, Afrah and Adnan boarded their flight, giddy with excitement at the thought of spending the next 48 hours in Italy.They landed at the Leonardo Da Vinci International Airport just over nine hours later. Adnan tried to hail a cab for them, cursing under his breath when most of them drove past. "Perks of being a black man in Europe," he smiled in disdain. Eventually, a round-faced, very Italian looking man parked in front of them. "Dove stai andando?" he asked, rolling down the window."Rome Cavalieri," Adnan said. The man nodded pointedly, hopping out to help them with their bags. "Your first time here?" he said, his English heavily accented. "Si," Adnan replied. "You welcome to Italy," he said. "Rome is beautiful city.""It is," Afrah agreed. "I've always wanted to visit.""I'm Sebastian," he said, smiling as he reached for her small suitcase. "Afrah," she replied. "It's a pleasure to meet you."He smiled back at her, lo
*For the first time since their marriage, Afrah decided to call his mother. She had been apprehensive at first, not wanting to involve her in something that was certainly not meant to reach her ears. But she was scared for Adnan, and she needed the help of the only woman who knew him better than she did. She answered on the first ring. "Assalamu alaikum?" Afrah cleared her throat, trying to sound normal. "Wa alaikum as salam," she replied. "Afrah dear, is that you?""Good evening, aunt," she said. "I hope I'm not disturbing.""Certainly not," she replied quickly. "This is the first time you're calling me, is it not? You don't know how happy I am to hear from you.""I'm sorry I didn't call sooner," she said, glancing up to make sure the bathroom door was still closed. "It's just that...""Don't worry about it," Maryam said. "It's so good to hear from you. How's the honeymoon?""It's fine, Alhamdulillah," Afrah said. "Or at least it was.""Oh. I heard about the news. How is Adnan h
*The sun shone lazily in the painfully blue sky as the white sedan weaved through the highway traffic, darting this way and that. Inside, Adnan held the steering wheel tightly, his eyes fixed straight ahead. Beside him, Afrah sat with her hands on her lap, also staring straight ahead. They'd been driving for miles. Though the scenery was beautiful, Afrah hardly looked at anything other than the road. For Adnan however, he couldn't care less about the trees and the mountain ranges far off into the distance. He'd travelled along this same road hundreds of times already. He knew it like the back of his hand. Though he made no indication that he was even paying attention, his eyes continuously darted towards the woman sitting beside him. Clad in a plain white shirt with lace trimmings down the front, a pair of black leggings and a floppy straw hat, she was the perfect picture of an exotic tourist, especially with his camera placed on her lap. Every now and then, Afrah would pick it up
*"Don't lie to me, Afrah," he said the moment she began to shake her head. "No more lies."Trembling all over, Adnan leapt of the rock. He couldn't sit still anymore. Not for a single second. His thoughts were all over the place, and his mind was numb from moving so quickly. Afrah meanwhile was trying to stem her tears. Of all the ways she'd imagined the truth finally coming out, she had never thought that Adnan might guess it for himself. He'd caught her off-guard with the question, and even before she could arrange a comprehensible answer, the mere shock in her eyes had given it away. She couldn't look him in the eye now. Not when he knew what she'd been hiding her entire life. The truth would surely break him. No man could live with the knowledge that his father was the vilest of creatures. "How old were you?" Adnan asked, his voice on the edge of breaking. Afrah shook her head, shaking violently as the tears kept flowing. "How old were you, Afrah?" he asked, gritting his teet
*Twenty two years prior, on a quiet and somewhat uneventful day, Adnan had barged into the house with a vengeance in his eyes. Their mother had been sitting on the veranda with an old notebook propped up on her laps, and she looked up sharply when he entered. "Umma, I'm going to break Nafisa's stupid head open," he'd said, his bottom lip trembling. "What's wrong?" she'd asked, setting the book aside to tend to her little boy who was on the verge of tears. "She went to the neighbors and told Farouk that I still wet my bed every night," he'd said, trying and failing to stem the tears. His mother had reached out then, placing a hand on his shoulder and pulling him in for a hug. "Don't worry," she'd said. "Nafisa just enjoys telling lies. How could you ever wet your bed at your age? You're a big and strong man. She's clearly delusional."Adnan had cried into her neck, sniffing and gulping for air. Somehow, nestled in the arms of his mother, he felt better instantly. At ease. It was a
*The drive to the beach took longer than any of them had anticipated. The weather was dry, with the heat rising to a dangerous level. Twice, they had to stop to fix a punctured tyre. "Are we there yet?" "Just a little further," he replied, wading through the traffic. "It won't be long now."They had left his uncle's house early that morning, with a picnic basket which they filled along the way. They had hoped to beat the traffic by leaving early, but even so they only managed to cover eighteen miles in an hour. By the time they finally reached the beach, it was a few minutes past noon. The sun was high up in the sky, and their shadows had disappeared underneath them. There was a small crowd gathered on the sand, which surprised him as it was a weekday. "Come," he said to her, offering his right hand while he took the basket in the other. "I know the perfect spot for us."He led her away from the crowd, keeping his hold on her tightly. He recognized the group as students from the
* Azra was a bright-eyed, polite, little eleven year old who couldn't meet anyone's eyes when she was brought to the house by Adnan. Afrah, who had been discharged three days prior, watched from her window as he drove into the house with the little girl sitting beside him. Looking at him, she still didn't know what exactly she felt. Of course she still despised what he'd done, but she didn't necessarily hate Adnan himself. Forgiving him was hard. It was probably the hardest thing she would ever learn to do. But it would be worth it if they would learn to live happily for the rest of their lives. Azra's mother had been much too happy to let her go. They had been struggling to provide for the little girl with her new husband, who was significantly less-wealthy than Adnan. Layla knew the girl would have a better future with her biological father. When she got the call from Adnan, a part of her wanted to hang up on him. But since it concerned his daughter, she'd listened to his plea a
*Carpets and curtains. She dreamt of them both, not as separate entities, but as one. Throughout her existence, Afrah had been surrounded by carpets and curtains, each lending its own unique addition to the story of her life. They were always silent, never considered but ever present. She recalled the carpets in her bedroom, how soft and flat it was. Twice a year, the carpets would be taken out so they could be washed and returned. The curtains were washed every month, and Afrah remembered sitting in the middle of her room one time when both carpets and curtains were removed, and she simply stared at the barrenness of her room. Strange how something as insignificant as carpets and curtains could change the entire appearance of her bedroom. She recalled the carpets in her father's room, the plush cream color stretching from wall to wall. His curtains were white, which she remembered complaining to her mother about once. "Why can't I have white curtains as well?" she'd asked. "Bec
*Afrah didn't know she was capable of doing it until she'd done it. Spontaneous action was never her area of expertise, knowing fully well that she was more of a reactive person than a proactive one. But the sight of Fahad falling to the floor jolted her to action. It was like a spark had awakened in her, grinding the gears in her brain. She began by lunging for the gun. Yusuf wasn't expecting her to move. Neither did he hear her move, since the carpet muffled her footsteps. He was still pointing the gun at Fahad's twitching corpse when Afrah's hands suddenly wrapped around the gun and yanked it out of his hands. He staggered back, bewildered by her action. And then she brought the gun to his chest, looking him dead in the eye. Time seemed to freeze in that moment. Neither he nor she dared to move. Between them was their hateful glare, separated by the barrel of the gun. His breathing was calm, while hers was irregular, coming in short bursts. In that moment, their roles were rev
*Every movement caused Afrah to jump; every second his eyes spent watching her made her skin crawl. She didn't sit. Instead she remained where she was standing, her arms folded in front of her. Yusuf meanwhile had leaned back into the seat, sighing comfortably. "What would you like to have?" he asked nonchalantly. "Some water, perhaps? I have some orange juice which still happens to be fresh. Or would you prefer a coke? I have some wine as well, but then knowing how close you and Adnan are, I'm sure he's taught you to stray away from fine wine. So, which would you prefer to have?""I would like to have my daughter back," Afrah replied. Yusuf studied her for a few seconds before he chuckled. "Of course," he said. "It's why you're here, is it not? As for me, I'd like a Bloody Mary."He stood up then, stretched with a slight groan before he left the room. Afrah remained where she was, awkwardly staring at the stained walls with nothing but a single wall clock hanging on them. She tho
*"I remember it like it was yesterday," Halima said. "And I know how cliché that sounds, but it really does feel like yesterday even though it was almost thirty years ago."Adnan tilted his head to the side, trying to detect a hint of deception in her words. "I was a little girl, so foolish and ignorant. I guess I've always been like that. But we can say that my ignorance and foolishness were somewhat exaggerated at that point in my life. Before I tell you how it happened however, I think you should understand the beginning of it all. I believe I was on my way to my uncle's house that day. I'm sure your father told you all about the village we grew up in.""Bakura," he replied indifferently. "Yes," Halima replied, twisting her hands. "It's a small settlement, and we grew up so close that everyone knew the name of everyone else. It was so small that it was impossible to leave home without everyone being able to give a detailed account of where you went. Your paternal grandfather and
*Adnan couldn't bring himself to do it. All through the flight to Kano, he kept staring at his mother in-law's phone number, debating whether he should do it or not. He couldn't. What exactly would he say?'Hello, yes I was just wondering if you have a hand in kidnapping my daughter and I was just wondering if you knew where she was so I can get her back?'Stupid. He couldn't tell Afrah either. Not when it involved her mother. She would be heart broken if she found out. But then Zainab might be lying. She was a pathological liar after all. Why wouldn't she lie to him? It didn't make any sense. Surely she must have just said that to throw him off their scent. And stupid as he was, he'd left the state knowing that she'd been pardoned by the governor. Now she was free; free to wreak her havoc over them once again. He was trapped between a rock and a hard place. When they landed in Kano, Adnan's first stop was the police station. The sergeant was eager to help, and very soon all t
*Some say terror brings an overwhelming sense of confusion, so sharp and painful that the person isn't able to decipher his left from his right. It robs the mind of its tact, and ensnares the person in its claws. For Afrah, terror brought an overwhelming sense of calm. In the seconds after Adnan spoke to her on the phone, her senses heightened, and something inside of her seemed to snap. She was neither aware of walking out of the hospital, nor was she aware of hopping into her car and driving off. Her heart was racing, and the wailing of a thousand exhausted cars desperately trying to maneuver around each other was lost to her. All she heard was silence, so pure and complete that even her breathing was faint, almost nonexistent. And then she screamed.No one heard her, of course. No one heard the anguish in her voice, or the desperation in her every breath. The pain came from within her, seeping out of her pores and wrapping her in a dreadful blanket. Remarkable however, was the f
*Hafsah grew rapidly. It was almost as if one day she went to sleep a baby, and woke up the next day with a vocabulary of over five hundred words. Her growth spurt happened right around the time that Afrah and Adnan moved to Kano. Amina called it their migration, while everyone else called it a relocation. Like birds which migrated south for the winter, Amina told everyone who listened that they'd migrated north for The Long Winter, one which would stretch on for years if care was not taken. Adnan was much too happy to move. Knowing they were leaving the danger of Abuja behind was the only thing which finally made him able to sleep. That, and the knowledge that Zainab was serving a life sentence. The charges leveled against her would have easily amounted to culpable homicide punishable with death, but an unknown party was said to have bribed the judge and reduced the charges to culpable homicide not punishable with death. Adnan had been ready to appeal, but Afrah assured him that