The elevator pinged. The doors slid open. She stared at the gaping space.
What if Lulu refused to speak to her?
What if she didn’t believe her?
Tears slipped faster down her face as a hand rested on her shoulder.
It was Reza. He eyed her quietly.
“Do you want to get out of here?” he asked.
The thought of leaving sounded good. Actually, it sounded perfect.
She met his gaze. “How about that boat trip?”
Usmana,Aunt of the Groom
Oh. My. Goodness.
You can use many words to describe the Mirzas, butboringis certainly never one of them. The fortune teller predicted this, didn’t she? We were all there, we heard it with our own ears, and look how quickly her vision came into reality. Betrayal, indeed.
What are my thoughts about the slideshow? Someone had to do it. Did you see that video? The way that poor boy’s shoulders drooped as she screamed at him? He was clearly used to her abuse. At least now she can’t hide behind her innocent doe-eyed looks.
Who do I think created the slideshow? Sorry. I’m not smiling. Really, I’m not. When I’m stressed, my reactions can be a bit off. I think the answer is obvious, though. It’s Irum. Poor girl probably cracked under the pressure of having to play nice for so many days. Good for her. She’s a brave soul to speak truth to such a powerful family.
And if I had to put money on it? I’d say there is more still to learn.
16
•
The boat rocked gently as Reza took her hand and helped her board. She braced a hand against the rail unsteadily, her mind replaying the slideshow—the images, the accusations, the knife. They had been quiet on the drive over, but he watched her now with tense concern.
“You okay?” he asked.
“No,” she told him. “It’s fine. Let’s just go.”
Reza chatted with the owner of the boat before they took off. They were checking the sailboat—it was a classic wooden one, sleek and simple. Reza’s hands moved with practiced ease, testing the ropes, the rudder, making sure everything was in place.
She scanned the landscape for anything—or anyone—suspicious. Because if someone had been watching her in the boathouse…If someone had gone through the trouble to show the video to everyone at the wedding in order to frame her…Who was to say they weren’t watching her right now?
A lighthouse stood tall off the peninsula. Even in the middle of January, the air here was thick with salt and humidity. The water glistened under the lights of the dock. There wasnothing amiss. Nothing awry. She tried to draw a deep breath but couldn’t push away the unease pressing against her ribs.
She looked down at the clothes she had hastily changed into—a thin-strapped sundress that cut at her knee. Sandals. Not exactly sailing gear, but better than the flowing gown she’d had on earlier. Reza was in a simple T-shirt and track pants.
While Reza chatted with the boat owner, she checked her phone.
Haris had called twice. There was a text from him now:
Are you all right? Call me.
She let him know she would. Soon. But all she could think of was how his mother had screamed at her in front of hundreds of people. How he had to physically restrain her. How could she ever return to that resort?
The note slipped into her clutch at Lulu’s bridal shower flashed before her eyes. She’d dismissed it as snarky aunties. Now every unsettling event, from the pythons to Lulu’s allergic reaction to even the misdelivered cake, had proven to be a carefully choreographed attack against her.
By whom? Auntie Nipa? Auntie Hanifa? Both of them together?
She tried to shut down her thoughts before they could spiral. She’d escaped the resort because she needed space to breathe.
