She couldn’t possibly know about that.
Could she?
Seeing Hena’s expression, she gave her a sympathetic look.
“No one likes the messenger, but it doesn’t change themessage. I must urge you to exercise caution, my dear. Someone means you harm. Hold on…” She concentrated for a moment before speaking again. “They have done dark things to survive. They will do what they must. I’m seeing something about a knife…something about how the knives are out for you.”
The knives are out for you.
The air in the room suddenly felt much too warm. It was just a phrase. A warning, a metaphor. But for Hena, there was only one association.
Mariela couldn’t see the future. No matter how noble she held herself out to be, someone must have paid her an amount she couldn’t say no to. Fed her details to get under Hena’s skin.
If that was the goal, it was working.
15
•
Mehndis were meant to take place at night.
At least, Lulu’s was. The whole aesthetic—bridesmaids carrying glowing votives on gilded plates to the vibe of nostalgic Bollywood songs—relied on a dark sky. Instead, it was late afternoon. The sky was wide and blue and the sun beamed bright through the windows, which meant the candles would flicker, but they could not glow.
But at least it was happening. There was still a mehndi. Her mother was here, alive, wearing a pale silk kurta with a trail of pearls around her throat. No one would ever guess she had been discharged from the hospital barely an hour ago. Aunties hovered around her, complimenting her bangles, asking too many questions. But she was smiling, and for that Hena was grateful.
She tried to push away the memory of the fortune teller. Her final words:
The knives are out for you.
She wanted to dismiss it as nothing more than cheap theatrics to close the session out with a bang. The event was meant to entertain, wasn’t it? And these women foundnothing more entertaining than digging up more dirt on her, no matter how real or imagined it might be.
Except how did Mariela describe the night in Lulu’s suite with such accurate detail? The flash of lightning. The creaking of metal steps. She recited it as though she’d been standing off to the side watching everything unfold.
She headed to the bridal suite tucked away next to the mehndi hall. She walked past the trays, the golden palanquin set by the door that her sister would soon sit in as she was carried into the hall.
When she stepped inside, Irum, Courtney, and Maheen were already there. Lulu was at a makeup table and caught her eye through the mirror.
“Is it time?” she asked.
“Almost. The guests have arrived.”
The other bridesmaids headed outside to light the mehndi trays, leaving the sisters alone.
Lulu was in a flowing emerald gown. The dupatta draped over her head was threaded with intricate mirror work, and with her sparkling jhumar and golden tikka framing her face, she looked like royalty.
“You should join them,” Lulu said. “You’re a bridesmaid too, remember?”
“I wanted to make sure you’re all right,” Hena said.
Lulu studied her lap, twisting the edge of her gown with her finger.
“What’s the matter?” Hena asked. “Ammi’s doing great out there, I promise.”
“It’s not that…” She was quiet for a moment. “I wanted to say I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“You should have been in the bridal party from the start. Honestly, you should have been my maid of honor.”
