“I remember your mother,” I say, making my voice gentle, and he looks at me with surprise. He stands in front of a building charred black from a fire. I have to tilt my chin up to look him in the eyes. Those beautiful, hurting eyes of his.
I silently scold myself. I can’t think of him like this. He might be holding on to a burning coal but he has no intention of letting go. He’s been holding on to it ever since he was born. In a month’s time, I’ll be sailing away and he’ll be stuck onshore, growing more distant by the second. He’ll be a daydream I visit when I’m alone in Germany, mourning the loss of mymightlife and obsessively checking his YouTube account for any updates, wondering if he’s still alive and free.
I grip the loose end of my hijab and squeeze with frustration. This isn’tfair.
“She was at my brother and Layla’s wedding,” I continue. “I remember seeing her. You—you have her eyes.”
Those same eyes soften, and he takes a step closer.
“You know, my mom told me about you that night.”
My stomach flips.
He laughs lightly, all traces of agony disappearing. How we can skip from one emotion to the other like a well-coordinated dance, I’ll never know. “Yeah, she came back home talking about this girl who’s a bubble of life. Whose confidence and joy infected everyone around her.”
Heat envelops me whole.
I miss that girl.
“She was absolutely determined to have us meet.” He runs a hand through his hair, and it gets messier. “Said you and I were like two peas in a pod. I was curious, but your mama wanted you to focus on your studies before we met. Honestly, I thought you’d be more stuck-up.”
I splutter and he grins.“Excuse me?”
He laughs again and it sounds heavenly, full of life. Not like Khawf’s laugh.
“Sorry. I judged you by your appearance. Freshman at pharmacy school, a good family name, a brother who’s a doctor, the only daughter, the youngest in your family. I mean, all the factors pointed toward it. I didn’t think someone like me would meet your standards.”
I blink.
He cracks his knuckles, looking guilty. “I was wrong, obviously.” He gives me a shy smile. “I’m sorry.”
“How do you know I didn’t become less stuck-up after everything that happened to me?” I ask, needing to know the answer but worried just the same.
He shakes his head. “I don’t think so. You’ve always been this way, I’m sure. I was feeling awkward about being set up, so I kept making silly excuses like that.”
“For the record,” I say, not believing the words I’m about to utter, “I would have thoughtIwouldn’t meetyourstandards.”
He tilts his head to the side, puzzled.
“The eldest child, all the responsibility on your shoulders. And instead of taking the safe route of studying medicine, which you could have, you followed your heart and studied what you love. Even after everything you’ve been through, there’s light in your eyes. You still laugh. So I can only imagine how you were before. I’d have felt self-conscious about how free-spirited you are. How you see the world in all its colors and shades of beauty. I’d have worried I couldn’t keep up.” I stop talking because the way he’s staring at me is making butterflies flap their wings in my stomach.
“Well,” he says after a while. “Our fears had no basis, then.”
“I—I guess so,” I whisper and shudder in a breath. “It’s… it’s a shame, Kenan.”
“What is?” His voice is hushed, and I know he knows what I’m about to say.
“That we never had the chance to find out if we’re each other’s Pazu and Sheeta.”
When he doesn’t say anything, I step so close I can count the freckles on his neck. His breath hitches in his throat and his gaze drops to my lips.
“I wish we had that time,” I whisper. “I really do. I wish—”
I stop.
He glances at my lips and reads the words I’m too shy to speak.
I wish you’d come with me.
