In the morning light, my neighbourhood’s nemesis seemed older than he had the night before, as if he had lost some of the malevolent fire that gave him life. Before my aunt had taken a metaphorical sword to his knees, he had once again threatened everyone, including his son. Now that I knew what he had done to Aydin, I could barely look at him.
“Can I help you?” I asked stiffly.
His face wavered. “Your aunt told you,” he said, almost to himself.
“Is it true?” I asked him. “Is Afsana Aunty really Aydin’s mother?”
Junaid Uncle laughed, the sound hollow. “That is one version of the truth, yes. The version that will damn me—and destroy him.”
I didn’t need to ask who he meant. My temper snapped. “How couldyou do such thing to your only son!” I hadn’t wanted it to be true, hadn’t wanted to think even Junaid Uncle capable of such cruelty.
“I will not explain my actions to you,” he said.
“Are you planning to explain them to your son?” I shot back.
“I did what I thought best for Aydin,” Junaid Uncle said.
I realized he had somehow convinced himself he was in the right. For all those years he had believed his comforting lies. Now he wasn’t prepared to deal with the fallout.
As if in confirmation of my thoughts, a calculating gleam appeared in his eyes. “A clever person might turn this situation to their advantage,” he said.
“What are you saying?” I asked slowly.
“I’ve made no secret of my interest in Golden Crescent. I will pay double the market rate for your mother’s restaurant—if you can guarantee your family’s silence. I know from your antics online that you’re not as innocent as you pretend, Hana. Let us come to an understanding.”
A few weeks before, I had been the one trying to sabotage Aydin, by spreading rumours about his business online, by questioning his faith, by doing anything in my power to ensure that his dream of opening a restaurant was ruined. Like Junaid Uncle, I had convinced myself that I was in the right, and I felt sick all over again at my duplicity. But, unlike Aydin’s father, I had learned from my mistaken actions. Junaid Uncle must have been truly desperate if he thought I would agree to lie to his son. It would be like making a deal with the devil.
Misunderstanding my hesitation, he pressed his advantage. “If Aydin stays, what will happen to your mother, your sick father, your pregnant sister?” he asked, his voice a menacing hiss. “They will end up on the street, and it will be all your fault, for choosing a man youbarely know over your own blood. Talk to your aunt; convince her not to say anything to Aydin. I will tell him myself, in my own time. What is the point in resurrecting forgotten ghosts? Our secrets are none of your concern.”
He stalked off, so confident of my answer that he didn’t bother to wait for it.
FAZEELA HAD SAID THAT STAYINGquiet about our difficulties was what had led to the problems in our family, and she was right. After my confrontation with Junaid Uncle, I returned home and went straight to my sister’s bedroom. She was lying in bed, watching YouTube videos on her laptop.
“I need help,” I said.
She shut the computer. “Finally. Your eyebrows have been driving me crazy.”
I blinked. “I mean I need some advice.”
Fazeela motioned for me to pass her a plastic basket from under her bed, full of brushes and lotions and lipsticks.
“When did you learn how to apply makeup?” I asked, momentarily distracted. My sister had never cared about that stuff before.
“Since I’ve been stuck here with nothing to do but watch online tutorials.” Fazeela shrugged at my surprised expression. “I have other interests besides soccer and cooking Indian food.”
“No, you don’t,” I said, nudging her gently.
Fazeela shifted over, making room for me beside her on the twin bed. She grunted slightly as she scooted. “I feel like I’m carrying a bowling ball,” she groused.
I kept still while Fazeela carefully plucked my eyebrows, thenapplied primer to my eyelids and face, her fingers quick and gentle. The motions were so soothing I relaxed under her touch.
“What did you want to talk to me about?” she asked, reminding me why I was there. It had been so long since we had simply hung out together.
I considered my words. I didn’t want to get into specific details about the relationship between Afsana and Aydin; he deserved to know about his mother before anyone else did. “If you knew something that would help Three Sisters but hurt someone else, would you act on that knowledge?” I asked.
Fazeela reached for a small beauty blender and started to dab concealer under my eyes, around my nose, and along my jawline, blending it with the sponge. “I’m not thrilled about Wholistic Grill either, Hanaan, but there’s no reason to put out a hit on Aydin.”
“I’m serious.”
