Ayesha At Last(82)

To be honest, I’m not sure if this distinction makes any difference. I am certain her banishment led to my father’s early death. My sister’s absence haunts me still, and though I am in regular contact with her through text and email, I have not seen her in twelve years. Fear of hurting my mother’s feelings has kept me from visiting her in India.

I failed Zareena by keeping silent when I should have defended her. I’m not sure I will ever forgive myself for being such a coward.

My opinions regarding arranged marriage hardened against the backdrop of this experience. I wanted my family involved in my choice of spouse. My mother insisted that she would select my wife, and after I witnessed the way the situation with Zareena blew our family apart, I agreed. This was why I went along with my engagement to your cousin Hafsa even though I knew my heart was claimed by you.

I realize I was wrong. I ended things with Hafsa before she ran off, and I informed my mother that I will find my own wife, and make my own decisions, from this point forward.

Yours always,

Khalid Ahmed Mirza

Ayesha didn’t know what to make of the letter. At first she read it with a rising anger. How dare Khalid think this flimsy piece of paper could excuse everything?

But she read the letter again, and her heart twisted once more on, “Sometimes it is also hard to breathe.”

Don’t be fooled by flattery, she told herself severely. He’s still a judgmental jerk.

She felt another pang when she reread what he had written about his sister: “I’m not sure I will ever forgive myself for being such a coward.”

“My heart was claimed by you.” Ayesha read that line over, shaking her head.

Jerk.

Reformed jerk?

Still a jerk.

She folded the letter carefully and stuck it inside her desk drawer, underneath a pile of receipts. Then she pulled it out again and read it once more.

“Yours always.”

She threw up her hands and put the letter in her bag. For safekeeping.





Chapter Thirty-Six

It was Monday, and Hafsa had been missing for over two days.

Ayesha was in no mood to teach, so she stayed home to help Nana prepare for his gardening competition the next week. When disaster struck, the world kept turning. Nana had ten large bags of bright-red mulch to spread around his carefully pruned plants, and they worked in silence, letting the weak spring light slowly warm them.

“Are you worried about Hafsa?” Ayesha asked.

Nana gently placed a handful of mulch around his herb garden. “I am sure she is in a spa somewhere, or perhaps shopping,” he said.

Ayesha hesitated, wondering whether to tell Nana about the note Khalid had shown her yesterday, but her grandfather beat her to it.

“Your Nani told me that last night was not the first time Khalid had entered our home.” He looked at Ayesha, but she said nothing. “He is an admirable young man, but like Hafsa, he needs to grow up.”

“What do you mean?”

“Every person experiences a moment of reckoning, jaanu. Khalid stands on the threshold of his destiny. It is evident he dumped Hafsa. A young woman as proud as your cousin would crow about her actions, not run away. Perhaps Khalid realized his heart belonged elsewhere,” Nana said, giving Ayesha a significant look. “If that is the case, I am afraid he miscalculated.”

Ayesha’s heart started beating faster. “Why do you think that?”

“He will feel honour-bound to Hafsa, now. If his actions led to her hasty exodus, he will feel responsible for the fallout.”

“It’s not Khalid’s fault Hafsa ran away from home.”

Ayesha was not sure why she was sticking up for Khalid. His proposal, coming so soon after Tarek’s revelation, had only angered her. And his letter last night had left her confused. Even though all evidence pointed to Tarek as the villain, Ayesha could not forget the stricken look on Tarek’s face when he had told her about Zareena and their lost baby. She didn’t know what to think.

Nana picked up a trowel and carefully dug out a weed, lifting it from the ground by its roots. “If I do not weed my garden, my beloved flowers will die, asphyxiated by vicious forces whose only goal is colonization. If you choose to plant the flowers, you make a choice to be responsible over other living things. Khalid is not a man who takes his responsibilities lightly.”

Ayesha’s heart sank as she recognized the truth of her grandfather’s words. If Khalid had dumped Hafsa (likely), throwing her into an irrational tizzy (very likely) and causing her to run off with the unsuitable and possibly criminal Tarek (ditto), then Khalid would feel duty-bound to help in some way. And she had banished him last night.

Which left her exactly where she had been at the start of this whole sorry debacle: stuck. Ayesha laid her trowel down on the ground. The mulch was spread over most of the flower beds. Nana’s garden was ready for the expert panel of judges.

Ayesha looked around her, trying to find a pattern in his planting of hibiscus, zucchini, violets, lavender, clover and rocket. “I can’t figure out your theme this year.”

Nana stood up, grimacing as he stretched. “I titled it ‘Double Service.’ Every flower is both pleasing to the eye and edible. I wished to explore the theme of usefulness versus appearance. Flowers are so often mistaken as superfluous, yet their purpose is intricate and clever. They attract pollinators, ensuring their survival, and in turn they are consumed for their nutritional value. Never underestimate a flower.”