Chapter 69

*

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