Maryam stopped fiddling with the tablecloth. “Why couldn’t you just pretend you hadn’t heard a thing?”
Saif said nothing, sharp brown eyes intent on her face. “What’s really bothering you?” he asked, and he sounded so gentle, so sure, that she had a sudden urge to lay her head on his broad shoulder and just... breathe.
“You know all thisstuffabout me!” she burst out. “The scales aren’t balanced!” She instantly felt childish and waited for him to make fun of her. Except he didn’t.
“You’re right,” Saif said quietly. “I’ll tell you something about myself. Something no one else knows.”
Maryam didn’t want to be curious, but she couldn’t help herself. She had spent too many years wondering about Saif. She watched him now, and his eyes, fringed with sooty dark lashes, turned light brown as he looked at her. His thick hair was slightly mussed, and she wondered how much sleep he had gotten last night, and whether he had thought about her at all. The idea made her feel restless, and she shifted under his gaze as he smiled slightly, attention focused entirely on her. He had always been intense, but to have that intensity leveled in her direction felt... dangerous.
He leaned close; even at this early hour, he smelled so good. “I’m not happy, either,” he whispered.
He gently tugged on his end of the tablecloth, pulling her a half step closer, and she had to remind herself: Saif was toying with her, like a cat with a mouse. He was a charmer she hadn’tseen in over five years, and he couldn’t be trusted. As if reading her mind, her father came up to them, protective.
“Everyone is ready forfajrprayer,” Ghulam said, giving Saif a hard look. Silently, Maryam joined her sister and mother in line for the communalsalat, Saif’s words echoing in her mind.
I’m not happy, either.
Did he mean it? Did it even matter? They barely knew each other, no matter what Saif had implied. She could wish things were different, but they weren’t. And her family needed her now.
Dadu led the prayer, and afterward, the group sat quietly, making personalduasand enjoying the peace. Saima gestured to Maryam.
“I tried to call a cab,” she said, keeping her voice low. “But the phones aren’t working. The airport is maybe ten miles away. How do you feel about walking?”
Maryam stared at her sister. “You want Mom and Dad to walk ten miles through this snow? You want Dadu wading through drifts taller than him?”
Beside her, Saima vibrated with nervous energy. “This is why I wanted to stay at the airport overnight!” She scrambled to her feet and stalked to the main entrance of the inn, unbolting the main door and pushing it open. Or, rather, attempting to push it open. The door wouldn’t budge. She dug her shoulder into the solid wood, then turned around and put her back into it. Maryam wasn’t sure if she should laugh or try to help her.
“Saima, allow me,” Saif said, coming to her aid. He gave the door a mighty push, biceps flexing impressively beneath his thin shirt. The door opened about two feet—and a heap of snow tumbled inside the foyer. Saima, Maryam, and Saif jerkedback, then cautiously peered through the small gap outside, at the now alien landscape.
It had snowed heavily last night, but it had been too dark to fully make out the geography; plus, they had been too tired to pay attention. Now, as the sky lightened on the horizon, a thread of pink ribboning across the sky, they stared at their snowy prison in silence.
The cars in the parking lot were nothing more than buried white lumps, streets indistinguishable from sidewalk, pitched roofs decorated with a thick layer of fluffy white. A massive pine tree in front of the inn, branches bent low, resembled a lady in a ruffled white dress. And everywhere there was a blanketed stillness, as if the rest of the world had decided to sit this significant weather event out.
“Snowmageddon”? Try “apocalypse in a picturesque snow globe,”Maryam thought.It feels like the morning after the end of the world.Saif and Maryam looked at each other. Beside them, Saima choked back a sob, turned around, and walked swiftly in the direction of their room.
“Do you need to go after her?” Saif asked.
Maryam shook her head. “She needs to scream first. Then I’ll think of a plan.” She turned to Saif, who seemed relaxed despite the chill temperature. He gazed outside, where the sun was slowly starting its ascent, coloring the sky a streaky pink and orange. It promised to be a beautiful day-after-the-apocalypse.
“It’s so strange. I’ve been having dreams about a place like this,” he said, voice husky against the still darkness. “A quiet town, away from everyone, a deep blanket of snow. Like when we were kids. Remember?”
A sudden memory sprang unbidden to her mind: She was about ten years old and their families had rented a cabin one weekend during the Christmas holidays. A novel experience for all—both sets of parents had immigrated from India, and had never grown up camping or cottaging, particularly during the winter. But her father had thought it would be fun, and Saif’s father had agreed, and they had found a place near a small frozen lake with four bedrooms and a single bathroom. Maryam had built a snow family, while Saima had insisted on a parade of snow cats, snow dogs, and even a snow parrot, aided by Saif’s older brother Raihan, before being ambushed by Saif, intent on starting a snowball fight. They had roasted halal marshmallows, once their fathers had figured out how to start a fire in the small wood-burning fireplace, and their mothers had prepared a feast of naan, fragrant ricepilauwith fresh peas, baked tandoori chicken, plus savoryhaleem, a meat stew prepared with lentils, wheat, and barley, topped with fried onions and fresh coriander, and wedges of lime to squeeze over the top, her favorite dish. In the morning Ghulam and Saif’s father had prepared eggs and pancakes for the two families, and the children had gone sledding for hours, returning tired and content. In the years that followed, the two families spoke often about returning to that magical cottage by the frozen lake, but had never found the time.
“You smashed Saima’s snow cat,” Maryam said.
Saif raised an eyebrow. “You sat on my snowman.”
“Don’t you mean snow blob?” Maryam teased.
“Hey, snow blobs have feelings, too.”
They smiled at each other, and for a moment, Maryam grew wistful. If only she hadn’t fallen deeply in crush with himat age twelve and become completely tongue-tied anytime they were in the same room together. If only they had kept in touch as adults. Maybe things would have been different now. But they weren’t.
She really should go check on Saima. Instead, Maryam rested her head against the doorjamb and tried to resist the urge to reach out and touch his arm. He had really nice forearms. When he had strained against the door, his shirt had ridden up, revealing a flat stomach, the shadow of abs, a dusting of dark hair. Saif wasn’t just cute, she thought. He was sexy. The thought brought her up short as she realized who he reminded her of, and she straightened, suddenly businesslike.
“Well, unless you have access to a private jet or helicopter to swoop in and save my sister’s wedding, I should go help Saima figure this out.”
“No private jet or helicopter, sadly. My clients are usually insuring their first home—not buying their first plane.” His eyes twinkled with amusement, but this time Maryam recognized it for the danger sign it was. She had succumbed to a dangerously charming man once before and had no intention of doing so again.
