Ayesha At Last(47)

Farzana nodded, her lips thin. “Yes, of course, that must be it. Another family.”

They ate their food in silence, both deep in thought.

AS soon as Farzana was sure her son was upstairs in his bedroom with the door shut, she dialed Hafsa’s house.

“This is Farzana,” she said importantly into the receiver. “I must speak to Hafsa immediately. It is an urgent matter.”

After a few minutes, a voice came on the line. “Who is this?”

Farzana resisted the urge to scold Hafsa for her rude lack of greeting. Instead, she coated her voice in honey and crooned, “Hafsa beti, this is Farzana Aunty. I came to see you a little while ago, do you remember?”

Hafsa’s voice was wary. “Yes, I remember you. I’ll get my mom.”

“No, wait!” Farzana said. “I’m calling to apologize.” There was a pause, and Farzana continued. “Beti, when I met you, I was so overwhelmed by your beauty and refined behaviour, I’m afraid I came off as quite rude. I was only thinking of my darling son, Khalid. He is such a sensitive boy. He could never handle being rejected by you.”

Hafsa’s voice softened, mollified. “That’s okay, Aunty. I know how hard it can be for boys. I have received quite a few rishtas.”

“I am not surprised at all. Though I know my Khalid is out of the running, whoever you decide to marry will be one lucky young man.” Farzana was afraid she might be laying the compliments on a little thick, but Hafsa accepted the flattery easily.

“That’s so kind of you, Farzana Aunty. Maybe I was too quick to reject your son. After all, I didn’t even meet him.”

Farzana’s voice took on a sorrowful tone. “Oh my, this is embarrassing. It’s just that my Khalid has moved on.”

“What do you mean?”

“I would love to have a beautiful, modest young woman like you for my daughter-in-law. But I have one rule, Hafsa: A mother must never interfere in the lives of her children. If Khalid has taken a liking to your much older cousin Ayesha, who am I to object?”

“Ayesha? MY Ayesha?” Hafsa said loudly.

“Didn’t your dear cousin tell you? Apparently they met while planning a conference at the mosque together.”

“That’s my conference!” Hafsa said. “She was covering for me, but I’m the real event planner!”

“I never meant to cause trouble,” Farzana said sweetly. “I know how close the two of you are, and I’m sure Ayesha didn’t purposely go behind your back and betray you. I only want what’s best for my son.”

On the other end of the line, Hafsa spluttered, and Farzana went in for the kill. “May I give you some advice? You must always guard against jealous family members who want what you have. If I were you, I would pretend to know nothing. Make your own plans behind the scenes, just as your cousin has done. I know my son better than anyone else, and I think he would be far happier with you than with someone as outspoken and opinionated as Ayesha.”

Hafsa was silent, no doubt considering Farzana’s words.

The older woman smiled thinly. These vain, silly girls. When Khalid had mentioned that “Hafsa” was a school teacher whose father had died years before, she had immediately realized that her innocent son was being duped. The real Hafsa might be rich and flighty, but she would be easier to control than Ayesha, an aging rishta-reject with strong opinions.

As for Khalid—he was a good boy, and he would do as he was told.





Chapter Twenty

Salams, Ayesha. This is Masood. Save this number, it’s my personal contact. I’m available any time, day or night. I look forward to getting to know you better.

Ayesha looked at her phone and sighed. It was lunchtime and she was sitting by herself in the staff room, a little-used corner of the school. She put her phone down and looked at the stale bagel she had packed that morning. In her rush to be on time for school, she hadn’t even prepared it with cream cheese or peanut butter. She pushed the cold, empty bagel away and contemplated her meal options. She could make a takeout run, but there weren’t any halal restaurants nearby, and the thought of greasy cafeteria food made her stomach turn. Her phone pinged again with another message from Masood:

I have met many young women, but I enjoyed meeting you the most. There’s something special about you, Ayesha. I hope you felt our connection too.

She didn’t need this right now.

Despite her resolution to move past Khalid, Ayesha couldn’t stop thinking about their confrontation last night, couldn’t stop replaying the words she had thrown at him: You’re a coward, a puppet, I don’t care about you at all. He had looked so resigned, as if her words were a confirmation of his own thoughts and not just her anger talking.

Ayesha wasn’t sure what she felt for Khalid, but it was definitely not indifference.

She felt just as trapped by tradition and expectations as he did. It would be so easy to dismiss him, with his skullcap and long beard—to put him inside a box labelled “fundy” and ignore the things that didn’t fit that role, like his kindness, his strength, his character or the way he managed to look sexy in a white robe.

Ayesha flushed and took a long sip from her water bottle. Her phone pinged—Masood, again.

I’m confident that my unique life coaching services will enable you to find your Best Self. When are you free for an initial consult? I’m teaching a preschool mixed martial arts class on Thursday, but otherwise I’m free.