Ayesha At Last(69)

Clara was right. Khalid had looked so sad when he’d spoken about his sister. Or maybe that was his shame coming through. It wasn’t like she really knew him. Did she?

“What would Nana do?” Clara asked.

Ayesha smiled. They played this game often, whenever they were confronted with an ethical quandary. What would Nana do? “He’d say, ‘Family first.’ Then he would remind me that Sulaiman Mamu rushed to Hyderabad after my father died and saved us all.”

“What would Samira Aunty do?”

“Don’t be so melodramatic, Ayesha. The wedding show must go on!” Ayesha mocked, and Clara laughed at her impersonation.

“Right. What would Hafsa do?”

“I don’t know anymore,” Ayesha said slowly.

“Remember when she was twelve years old, and you told her Veer Patel was only talking to her because he wanted a nude picture?”

Ayesha laughed. “Who knew twelve-year-olds were such creeps?”

“She didn’t believe you, and she screamed at you in front of her friends. Don’t be so sure Hafsa’s going to appreciate your warning, or listen to your words,” Clara said.

“The moment Tarek told me about Khalid’s family, it became my responsibility.”

Clara was silent, and Ayesha wondered if she disapproved. “I’m thinking of breaking up with Rob,” she said instead.

“It’s not because of what Khalid said over dinner, is it?”

“Rob’s not ready to move forward, and I don’t know how much longer I can wait. Ten years with him, and it’s all come to nothing.”

“Clara, it wasn’t nothing. You mean the world to Rob. If it’s not meant to be, you will be the world to someone else. You need a nosy aunty to send him a rishta. A professional matchmaker to put him on the spot.”

Clara cleared her throat, and Ayesha heard the rustle of tissue.

“I’m sorry to bother you with my stupid problems right now,” Ayesha said.

Clara laughed, her voice shaky. “You should talk to Hafsa. It might not do any good, but I know it will bother you if you don’t.”

Nana emerged from the doctor’s office, smiling. “I am very healthy and will live to be one hundred and five, according to Dr.

Adams,” he said to Ayesha.

She drove them home in silence, thinking about her cousin. She had a pretty good idea where she was right now, and her news would not wait.

“Tell Nani I’ll be back. I have to do something first,” she said.

HAFSA was sitting in the food court of the mall, a container of fries in front of her, three little paper cups filled with assorted seasonings arranged neatly in a row on the table. She was methodically covering a fry with cajun powder when Ayesha settled into the seat opposite.

“Someone’s sitting there,” Hafsa said without looking up. “Don’t you have a conference to plan, Miss Perfect?”

Ayesha ignored her. Every time she talked to Hafsa lately, she was drawn into her rabbit hole of drama. She could feel it happening again, and she fought against the current, toward the shores of reason.

“I have something to tell you about Khalid and his family. I’m not sure if it’s true, but I think you need to hear this anyway and decide for yourself. Khalid has an older sister, Zareena. A few years ago her family forced her to marry someone in India.”

Hafsa continued to eat her fries, not making eye contact. “So?”

“This is bad, Hafs. Just think of the family you are marrying into.”

Hafsa shook her head. “Let me get this straight. You heard some gossip about Khalid and, based on these unfounded rumours, you think I should dump him?”

“It’s a trustworthy source. I’m only trying to look out for you.”

“If Khalid is as terrible as you say, I’ll divorce him. That way I get to keep his money and the money Dad promised for the wedding.”

Ayesha reeled back. “That’s horrible.”

Hafsa’s eyes flashed. “Even more horrible than making a move on your cousin’s rishta?” she snapped. “I know all about your little romance with Khalid. His mother told me everything.”

“Is that why you said yes to him? To get back at me?”

Hafsa shrugged. “Not everything is about you.”

Ayesha stared at her, wondering how Hafsa could sit there calmly eating junk food while her words ripped out her heart.

“I’m done making excuses for you, Hafsa. You’re an adult. You’ll just have to live with the consequences of your actions, like everyone else.”





Chapter Thirty

Sister Farzana! What are you doing here?” It was Monday morning, and Tarek was loitering inside the Toronto Muslim Assembly, waiting for the weekly executive board meeting to finish. For extra emphasis, he turned on the full force of his megawatt smile.

Farzana sniffed dismissively. “If you are here to talk me out of complaining about Ayesha’s behaviour, you are too late. The executive board is considering their options.” She looked Tarek up and down, taking in his fashionably distressed jeans, ankle boots and black leather motorcycle jacket.

“Are you even capable of growing a beard?” she asked.

Tarek’s smile didn’t falter. “I have been attempting a beard for years. Your son is my new role model. You have done such a good job raising him.”