“Must have been hard for her—her only child moving out not long after her husband died.”
Jana shrugged. “Mom has a very busy social life. Don’t get me wrong—she’sthrilledwhen I’m home so she can show me off. But sometimes I think theideaof me means more to her than the actual person.” That sounded so bleak. Jana regretted saying it almost the moment it came out of her mouth. Right after seeing his perfect little family, she wasn’t sure she wanted to delve into her dysfunctional one. She changed the subject. “Your family must love having you nearby, though. You’re about an hour-and-a-half drive to their place, right?”
He nodded. “Yeah, about that.”
“Could I see your home sometime?” she asked.
“Of course, but it’s really not much to see.” He sighed. “I really should sell it soon. Not sure why I’m hanging on to it. It’s a dull little house in an even duller little town.”
The house seemed a bit of a sore spot for him. And she could guess why.
“You bought it with Nadia, right?”
He nodded but didn’t say anything more.
Jana knew that Anil had been married before, but he didn’t talk much about his ex-wife. There were no pictures of her in his parents’ house. She had no idea how long ago the divorce was, or why the marriage ended. Which, fair. They were building something—and even if it felt so real now, Jana knew they had time.
“We should order more ceviche,” Jana said. “They had shrimp on the menu, right?”
***
At the office the next day, Jana was editing a proposal to add a mental health day clinic to the health center in Tajikistan, when her phone buzzed with a WhatsApp message.
Unknown:Stay the fuck away from my sister’s husband.
Jana stared at the message. What the hell? Was someone trolling her? Was this a bad joke? She wrote back.
Jana:Who is this?
Another message came through calling Jana a series of expletives and accusing her of sleeping with a married man.
Nausea built in Jana’s stomach. Anil wasnotmarried…He had told her he was divorced…
Jana didn’t know what to say. With blurry eyes, she texted back.
Jana:I think you’re mistaken.
Unknown:I don’t know what he told you, but Anil Malek is married to my sister. Not divorced. Not separated. Married.
Another screenful of profanity flashed on her phone. Jana blocked the number.
Could this be true? She’d been with Anil almost twenty-four hours a day for two weeks now—save for when she was at work. She’d been with him on three continents. She’d met his parents. She’d slept wrapped around him every night.
But…what did she really know about him? He hadn’t introduced her to any of his friends in D.C. this week. He clearly didn’t want her to come to his house in Virginia. Wouldn’t his parents have said something if he was married? What did he tell them about her? He hadn’t introduced Jana as a girlfriend or a holiday fling…just a friend and colleague in his field. But that seemed normal to Jana—South Asian parents sometimes leaped too quickly from dating to marriage, and Jana assumed he wanted to wait until they were together longer before telling his parents the true nature of their relationship. But maybe he didn’t tell them because he had a wife waiting at home.
What did Jana know about Anil Malek at all?
Jana closed her eyes. She knew she was falling in love with him. And maybe love was a little blind.
She picked up her phone again—not to call Anil, but to message Rasheed, the manager of the project in Tajikistan. The one who Anil had been visiting when this relationship started.
Jana:Rasheed, is Anil married?
It was the middle of the night in Tajikistan. Jana wasn’t expecting an answer. But he responded.
Rasheed:Have you asked him that question?
Jana:Rasheed, please. I’m asking you.
