"I do?"
"Yes. Why?"
"I guess it's the soap I use."
"It is a good smell."
"Thank you."
"That wasn't a compliment."
"It was close enough, and I'm going to take it."
She narrowed her eyes at him.
He grinned.
The song ended.
Drova was not prepared for the song to end. She had assumed the song would last forever, like the songs in the romance novels she'd read, allowing infinite time for revelations and quiet conversations and the slow buildup of romantic feelings. The actual song lasted maybe three and a half minutes, and then it stopped, and the band slid into a different song, faster, less easy to hold a position through, and Pavel let go of her waist.
But he kept her hand.
"Another one?" he asked.
"Yes," she said.
He looked surprised by her acquiescence, and his fingers tightened around hers. "Great. Let's dance."
14
AREZOO
The wedding was winding down.
Most of the guests had eaten and danced and toasted and re-toasted, and the trickling exodus had begun, people calling good night from the edge of the green and waving over their shoulders. The playlist had been switched to softer pieces now, signaling that the party was nearing its end.
The lanterns strung around the perimeter glowed warmly against a sky that had gone navy hours ago.
It was a departure from the usual light curfew practiced in the village, an exception made only for grand celebrations.
Arezoo stood at the edge of the dance platform with her hand in Ruvon's, her feet hurting from wearing heels for too many hours, and yet she didn't want the night to end because she was anxious about what came next.
The beautifully decorated cart was waiting at the edge of the green where it had dropped her off so many hours ago. Anandur stood beside it, having removed his suit jacket a long time ago, but the bow tie was still crookedly in place. A few moredecorations had been added to the cart. There were now strings of small white lights wound through the railings, and someone had attached a banner at the back that read, in careful hand-lettering,Just Married.
"Azize delam," her mother said with tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Maman, don't cry."
Her mother pulled her into a hug that was tight enough to make the tulle of Arezoo's skirt crinkle audibly between them, and Arezoo hugged her back, and for a moment, neither of them said anything. Her mother smelled of the perfume she had put on hours ago and, faintly, of the wine she had allowed herself to drink during the toasts. It was the smell of her mother, and Arezoo realized that she was not going to fall asleep tonight in a house that smelled of it.
"Joonam," her mother said.
"Maman."
"My first baby. My first to leave."
"I am not leaving. I am only moving a twenty-minute walk away. I will see you tomorrow."
