“It became an escape for the both of us,” Leah continues. “We were in a dark place and it was the only thing that kept us numb. So we continued, even until college. Nearly four years of this hell. Then one day, Faisal went back home to visit his family for the weekend, and my brother cornered him in a parking lot. He beat him up so badly, he broke Faisal’s jaw. And Faisal had to be put on OxyContin for the pain.”
Deen—did Deen know all this was happening? Was he watching all of this, helplessly seeing his brother fall apart? The thought seizes me like a vise.
“That’s when Faisal reached his limit. The addiction was getting worse and I think he realized he couldn’t continue like this much longer. Of course it was my brother’s fault; he’d done nothing but torment Faisal in the most horrible of ways for so long, but . . .” Leah swallows hard. “In the middle of the night, Faisal went over to my parents’ house. My brother still lived with them; he worked at my dad’s auto shop.”
Leah leans against the wall, like she doesn’t have the strength to keep standing. “I don’t know the details. All I do know is, Faisal said in the deposition that he’d only meant to set his car on fire. But he lost control of the flames. Luckily, we weren’t home that night. My brother had an away game and my parents decided we’d all go to support him. But I don’t know if Faisal knew that.”
She folds her arms across her chest. “That’s why I had to come. After the fire three years ago, I stopped talking to Faisal. On one hand, I understand where he’s coming from, more than most people would. But I didn’t know what to believe. I get all the anger, all the years of pent-up rage toward my brother. Still. What if . . . what if my family was home that night?”
My pulse quickens. So it was arson, the felony in his journal entry. My pity for Faisal evaporates. Quiet, awkward Faisal, finally snapping and setting someone’s house on fire.
The pain he was going through is no excuse. He could have killed people. Maybe he was pushed to the brink. But when push comes to shove—knowing he’s capable of turning around and doling out revenge, with no warning, and tenfold—it’s unstable.
It’s dangerous.
“I think I hurt Faisal pretty badly. It’s been three years. I’ve lost my chance to get answers,” Leah says softly, as if only now realizing. “But I’m sure none of this would come as a surprise to your sister—Amira, right? I mean, the nonprofit they’re working on together is kind of a big tip-off. I’m sure they’ve worked it out already.”
The realization strikes me like a slap.
No. Amira doesn’t know. Hell, even with Faisal’s journal, even I couldn’t have known it was this bad.
No wonder Faisal’s been trying so hard to keep it all under wraps.
If Amira really knew . . .
Promise me you’ll look after them.
The sound of clapping from inside the ballroom breaks me from my thoughts. The next speaker must have finished.
I force myself to breathe.
“I should go,” says Leah.
I nod slowly. “Yeah. Thank you, though. For telling me the truth.”
Leah’s eyes go downcast. “If you ever need anything . . .” She walks past me and pauses. “Well. You know.”
I say nothing as her footsteps retreat and fade away.
I can’t let Faisal get away with this. Amira has to know. But how? I let out an angry, frustrated curse and dig through my purse. If only I still had Faisal’s journal page. Except it’s gone.
My head’s a whirlpool, but my feet begin to move on their own, even before a plan coalesces. Maybe I’ll tell Asher. He’ll know what to do. And then I’ll tell Amira—
“Don’t.”
A tangled whisper of a voice stops me in my tracks. I raise my gaze, and my eyes meet the one person I don’t want to see right now, his usual cocky smirk replaced by something that looks a lot like anguish:
Deen.
Chapter 32
Deen
Sunday, August 22
Amira and Faisal’s Wedding Day
“PLEASE.”
I take a step toward her. Kiran retreats, taking a couple of steps back from me. She’s eyeing me warily.
The Kiran I danced with is gone.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says.
I lean in closer and lower my voice. “I saw you talking to Leah.”
Kiran stops breathing and looks away.
I’m so glad I looked through her purse that second time; if I hadn’t found the plan on her phone, if I hadn’t found that page from Faisal’s journal, I would’ve been holding on to hope that the worst was behind me, instead of watching Kiran like a hawk. But as usual, she’s a slippery one. I panicked when I lost sight of her, when dozens of extended family—most of whom I’ve never seen in my life—decided to form their own mosh pit around me and bombard me with increasingly irritating questions: You go to NYU, right? Your parents still own their own private practice, right? You’re going to take over, right?
I joked with Vinny about how aunties would be throwing their hot single daughters my way all throughout the wedding, but the reality is less sexy than I’d hoped. All those people—they’d be backing away like Kiran if they knew the truth about me.
“I know what you heard from Leah doesn’t . . .” I exhale. “It doesn’t sound good. But believe me when I say there’s more to the story that she isn’t telling you.”
“Are you saying she’s lying?” Kiran snaps.
“No. Just that she doesn’t know the full truth.” How could she? Leah wasn’t there. Not like I was.
“I’ll take my chances. She’s the only one willing to tell me anything, so why shouldn’t I believe her?” Kiran’s eyes widen suddenly. “Oh my God. The other day . . . all that stuff you said about Faisal not lying to my sister—you were fucking gaslighting me!”
Damn. No wonder she hates you.
She’s right. I was. And yet, the truth is so much more complicated. I had to stick to the story. Faisal made me promise. My parents made me promise.
Keep the secret. No matter what.
I clench my fists.
Earlier, when I was dancing with Kiran, my head felt like a never-ending round of neurotic Ping-Pong with my thoughts.
Because I was also dancing with Kas. My Kas, the one who knows me better than anyone, who’s been there when I needed someone.
On the other hand, it’s still Kiran, determined as ever to bring Faisal down.
On the other hand, it’s my fault.
On the other hand, isn’t she going totally overboard?
On the other hand, she’s fucking beautiful in that lehenga and it’s a lot to take in. On the other hand, she betrayed our pact. On the other hand, this feeling between us—am I imagining it?
I need a drink. No I don’t!
Until finally, the song stopped and I looked her in the eyes, breathless and glowing and for that moment, mine.
Kas. The name fell from my lips before I could swallow it. For that moment, I didn’t have to care about what people thought. For that moment, we were just Kas and Foxx, and nothing else mattered. Maybe that’s the real reason why I wanted to dance with her. It was an excuse to be with her. To forget.
“God, the timing—” Kiran’s eyes look raw. “The fire was three years ago. Is that—is that why you ghosted me? Because of what happened with your brother?”
“Please. I know. You’re not wrong.” My voice cracks. “But please, I’m begging you. If you break up the wedding, Faisal won’t be able to move to California. The nonprofit, this chance to start over—this is his dream.”
“I’m sorry. But that’s not my problem.”
Kiran elbows me out of the way and charges ahead.
No.
I grab her wrist.
“Don’t touch me!” she shrieks.
Kiran rips her arm out of my grip and shoves me out of her way. I stumble backward like she’s a human tempest and getting in her way again would mean sudden death. I let
go and watch her disappear into the ballroom, the doors swinging behind her.
My legs can barely hold me up. A bead of sweat rolls down my cheek.
I can’t help but wonder: if circumstances were slightly different—if the fire never happened, and I didn’t have these secrets I needed to keep—then would seeing her again after all these years have felt like a sign, one even my heathen ass would have believed in? Would all the faith I’ve lost over the years come rushing back when I found out that of all the people in the world it could have been, Kasia was Kiran?
It all makes me want to scream.
Just like that night.
No. No. No, no, no, no.
I can’t let it end like this.
It’s my fault.
I can’t let it end like this.
You’re a tool.
I can’t let it end like this.
Some things are better left unsaid, beta.
No.
I burst into the ballroom, scanning the crowd.
Amira’s best friend, Rizwana, has finished her speech, so chai and dessert’s in full swing; most people are sitting at their tables now, plates piled high with ras malai and gulab jamun and laddoo. Ahead, I see M&D, talking animatedly with some uncles and aunties I don’t recognize. They’re practically glowing, taking in the attention, until Mom spots me and immediately her expression grows cold. The band she hired is hard at work, filling the ballroom with the steady pulse of the dhols, the rush of violins, the sound so alive I can practically feel it in my chest like a warm vibration. In any other circumstances, it might have been fun to listen to. But Kiran’s already onstage, deep in conversation with Amira and Faisal. I can’t see her face, but her arms wave animatedly. Purposefully.
I run toward them. I don’t need to hear what she’s saying. Faisal’s expression says it all: mouth squeezed in a tight line, and his eyes—like he’s watching his entire life shatter before him. It’s an expression I’ve seen once before, a few years ago. Gaunt cheeks shadowed by flickering flames.
“Stop!” I blurt, winded. Kiran throws me a dagger-eyed glare.
But she doesn’t stop.
“He’s been lying to you this whole time, Amira,” she says, her back turned to Faisal like he doesn’t exist. “I heard it all from one of his close friends. You can’t do this. Being with him would be the worst mistake of your life. Please. You have to believe me.”
“You don’t even know the full story!” I argue.
Amira frowns. “These allegations—well, they’re a lot to take in, Kiran. Faisal—what she’s saying about . . . about your addiction—about this Leah, and the arson. Is it true?”
“I . . .” Faisal’s cheeks drain of color and his knuckles tighten on the arm of his chair.
Seconds come in a slow trickle.
“Deen?” Amira asks.
“Kiran is going off secondhand information.”
“It’s a simple yes or no answer, Deen.”
“It’s . . . it’s not untrue.” My jaw clenches. “But there’s more to the story. Important details. Most of which I can’t tell you. We can talk more about it after the wedding.”
“Or we can talk about it right now,” Kiran growls. “You heard it from him; Faisal’s been hiding all of it from you. If he’s been lying about that, who knows what else he’ll lie about?”
Frustration bubbles in my veins. “Faisal isn’t a liar.”
“Hiding a past, especially one as colorful as his, is the same damn thing.”
“His past is his past,” I retort, my voice raised. “If he wasn’t ready to talk about it, no one should force him.” Maybe Kiran has every right to be mad, but the way she’s talking about Faisal is really getting under my skin.
“If you even took just a minute to get to know him, you’d see what I see. But you don’t care because you’ve been too busy trying to prove he’s some bad guy since the beginning. Like when you looked through Faisal’s room at the family dinner. When you went through his private journal, ripped a page out of it. How is that fair?”
I can feel Kiran’s body tense beside me.
“Kiran,” says Amira, the worry lines deep on her face. “Did you really?”
“Okay, yes, but—” She turns on me, hackles practically raised. He committed a huge crime, and Amira deserves to know. He could have seriously hurt people!”
“You don’t think he knows that? You don’t think he has to live with that for the rest of his life?”
“Deen, stop,” Faisal pleads weakly.
“But he hid it from my sister, the person he’s supposed to be marrying!” Kiran retorts. “If he can’t be honest with her, then who the hell else is he supposed to be honest with?” Her eyes shimmer with barely checked tears of frustration. “The only logical explanation for why he’d lie is because he’s ashamed.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say.
“Or maybe he’s using my sister as a tool to please his parents, to act the part of a ‘good son.’”
I laugh darkly. “My parents weren’t there for him when he needed them. All that time, he had no resources, no help. God, it was one mistake. He was just a kid.”
“Or he’s a pyromaniac too unsafe and unstable to ever marry Amira.”
That does it. Kas or no Kas, this girl is going way too far. “Or maybe your judgment’s clouded because you’re still pissy I ghosted you,” I spit back.
Amira blinks. “Wait, ghosted . . . ?”
“We used to date,” I explain. “Three years ago.”
Amira looks at Kiran. “Is this true? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because it doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter,” Kiran says through gritted teeth.
“Deen, enough,” says Faisal.
“No! I’m tired of sitting back while other people try to ruin your life. And that’s all Kiran’s been trying to do these past few months.” The words come pouring out now, and for once, I let them. “She even had a whole three-step plan to sabotage your relationship with Amira. Everything that’s gone wrong, all the doubts you’ve had—it’s because of her.”
“How did you—?” Kiran’s shoulders quake. “Did you look through my phone?”
“Only because you looked through Faisal’s private journal first! Do you see what I’m talking about?” I point at Kiran. “As if she’s in any position to tell other people how to live their lives!”
“Deen!” Faisal shouts.
It slaps me like a bucket of ice water. This is nothing like our little argument yesterday. I jerk my head up at him in shock. I’ve never heard Faisal raise his voice over anything, or at anyone.
He’s gotten to his feet, his shoulders trembling with fury. I draw back.
“You have done enough,” Faisal says in a low voice.
For a tense moment, Kiran and I regard each other in stunned silence. That’s when I notice: the music has stopped.
Slowly, I turn around.
My breath is knocked out of my chest.
Because we have an audience of over five hundred pairs of eyes.
All of them staring at me.
Kiran’s dad, ashen faced at a nearby table, sitting beside Mom and Dad, fury and shame contorting their features. Haris, his mouth gaping. Even Asher, his usually calm veneer shattered, head in his hands.
I close my eyes tight before finally sliding my gaze back to my brother.
His shoulders slump. “Acting this way . . . it’s beneath you,” he says softly. “I don’t need you to protect me if you’re just going to hurt people in the process. Apologize. Apologize to Amira and Kiran right now.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Amira stands, her face eerily calm and stony.
“It’s over.
“We’re done.”
Loading
[CAMBRIA: THE EVOLUTION EXPANSION PACK]
[ROANA GUILD CHAT ROOM]
* * *
Devynius Foxx: Question
Devynius Foxx: How do you ma
ke someone forgive you when you’ve royally fucked up?
Nilina Torby: You’re asking me?!
Nilina Torby: Isn’t that a Kasia question?
Nilina Torby: You two and your cute little Q&As
Devynius Foxx: Unfortunately, this is the one question I can’t ask her right now.
Nilina Torby: . . . Oh, honey :(
Nilina Torby: Well, let’s see
Nilina Torby: You want to make someone forgive you?
Nilina Torby: That’s the problem.
Nilina Torby: You can’t.
Nilina Torby: The only thing you can do is give them space.
Nilina Torby: Do everything you can to make it up to them
Nilina Torby: And hope one day they forgive you.
Devynius Foxx: I see
Devynius Foxx: All right
Devynius Foxx: Thanks, Nil
Nilina Torby: Of course, luv
Nilina Torby: I don’t know what’s happened but
Nilina Torby: I know you two will work things out.
Devynius Foxx: <3
[Devynius Foxx has logged off]
* * *
Chapter 33
Kiran
Tuesday, August 24
I’M SO GODDAMN TIRED.
Seriously. I feel like someone played Operation with my insides, stitched me back together, and then forced me to run a marathon. Asher says it’s stress-related, that after a summer of being on edge and with the smackdown with Deen two days ago, I probably shortened my life span.
Right now, I’m not sure it’s the worst thing.
First of all, even after the marriage was annulled, Dad announced he was still moving to Houston. “The house has already been sold, so I can’t back out now. And even if I could, I wouldn’t. We know better than most that we can’t stop bad things from happening, but we can stop them from getting worse. If I changed my plans now, if we put our lives on hold, Amira would only blame herself.” The next day, he went to work like nothing happened, and when he’s been home, he’s been up in his room, packing in silence. I almost admire the man’s tenacity, even though it’d be better for him to take some time off and rest, like a normal human.
It All Comes Back to You Page 27
