Written in the Stars

by Aisha Saeed

  This time I don’t object as he slips his hand into mine. “When I got your letter, I thought, What is this? That’s not you. This isn’t Naila. These aren’t her words. She doesn’t talk like this! I didn’t care what that letter said. You had to know me enough to know I wouldn’t listen to what you said in it.

  “Your brother finally helped me. He slipped out a window and told me to meet him in the woods one evening. He told me everything. You know he still feels guilty? As if all of this is his fault. He promised to help me. He finally found your address hidden in a notebook in a drawer in their bedroom. As soon I had that, I came.”

  “How?” I ask him. “How could you get here all by yourself?”

  “My father is here too. He booked our flight as soon as I had an address. We met with the numberdaar of the village next to this town. We’ve been paying him to stay at his place. It took a month. But I finally found you.”

  I press my back against the wall and close my eyes. I want the pain to stop. The dark, empty well behind me suddenly feels inviting, enticing. I wish to simply stand at its precipice, to close my eyes, dive in, and escape the pain of the moment I fear will never subside.

  He tried. Even when I gave up, he never stopped trying. And yet, he failed. I want to rest my head on his shoulders. I want him to wrap his chador around me. Every atom of my being wills me to meld into him and never let go.

  “Naila”—his voice wavers—“what is it? You don’t want to stay here, do you?”

  “It’s not that.” I shake my head. “It’s just not that simple.”

  “Why not? I’m here. We can leave now. Why does it have to be any more complicated than that?”

  “There are risks.”

  “I knew there were going to be risks when I came. Those are just risks we’ll have to take.”

  “There’s more.” I don’t know how to tell him, but I do know I want to remember how he looks at me right now so I can have it to remember later, when he might not be able to look at me in the same way.

  “Listen.” He fidgets and clears his throat. “If things have changed for you—if your feelings about me aren’t the same, that’s still not a reason to stay.”

  “My feelings?” I stare at him. “How could you even think that? I love you. I always have. It’s just—”

  Suddenly, he leans down; his lips press against mine.

  Pull away.

  But no part of me knows how. After all these months, he’s still Saif. I run my fingers through his hair, trace the outline of his face—

  And then I kiss him back.

  For the first time since I arrived in this house, since I accepted I had no choice but to accept, I finally let myself cry. He wraps his arms around me. I lean my head against his chest. Something shifts inside me.

  I can’t do this anymore.

  Even if Saif can’t bear the burden of what I must tell him. Even if it changes everything between us. Even if it’s dangerous to leave, I have to. For me. For this child.

  And yet, I don’t know how to tell him. I don’t want to tell him.

  “Saif, I’m pregnant.”

  He pulls away for a moment. My heart drops. I knew this would be too much to handle. He never signed up for any of this. But just then his arms encircle me, and he pulls me close to him.

  “Did you hear me?” I whisper. “I’m pregnant.”

  “Do you think that changes anything for me?”

  “I would understand if it did.”

  His hands cradle my face. I look into his eyes, the brown eyes I’ve loved for so long. “Do you want to leave with me? Do you want to put this all behind you?”

  “Yes.”

  He leans down and kisses me again. “I love you, Naila. This changes nothing.”

  I feel light-headed, shaky. As though I’m slowly waking from a dream. Just maybe, this time will be different. Just maybe, I can be free.

  After all the times I tried and failed, can I finally put this nightmare behind me?

  Chapter 48

  The tiles feel cool on my bare feet. I slip on my sandals and stand outside on the balcony. Back home in Florida, reliable air-conditioning and heating systems made the weather not as big of a deal as it is here. Here, in Pakistan, under the sweltering sun and with the constant blackouts that leave homes and stores without electricity for hours, the weather plays a real role in my life. It is closely felt. I feel today’s cool breeze against my face and am grateful in one breath for the change and, in the next, realize sharply that I’ve now lived in Pakistan long enough to see the weather begin to change. Soon a season will pass me by.

  But at least now I know it will be my last season here.

  I sit back and remember my encounter with Saif just two days ago. He told me how Carla has been beside herself with grief, urging Saif to join her in circulating a petition to bring me back. I laughed, a tear escaping as I thought of her. It seemed impossible to believe I could ever go back to a life like that.

  “You know I’m different now, Saif,” I told him. “I might not be the person you remember. Maybe when we get back, you’ll see we’ve grown apart.”

  “If we’ve grown apart, we’ll find our way back to each other. Trust me. We will,” he replied.

  We talked until I realized hours had passed. I leapt up. “I have to go back in! They could be up any minute.”

  “What do you mean?” He looked at me, astonished. “Let’s go. Let’s go now. My uncle can come as soon as tomorrow morning to take us to the embassy.”

  “I can’t leave now. It’ll be time for morning prayers soon. People will be up and about. They’ll see us. Look at me, I’m not even wearing a chador.”

  “But we’re not far, just a thirty-minute walk from where I’m staying.”

  “Saif,” I gently told him, “I can’t just go stay at some stranger’s house with you and wait for your uncle to come.”

  “Why not? It’ll just be for a little bit. We can pay him a little more for his silence. There’s nothing a little money can’t help.”

  “I doubt money will make them feel better about harboring me. Once I go missing, everyone in a twenty-five-mile radius will be looking for me, including my uncle. And no amount of money will be worth crossing him.”

  Just then, a thought occurred to me. “How about Friday? We’re invited to a dinner party. I’ll get out of it. I’ll pretend to be sick, and when they leave, I will leave too. By the time they realize what happened, we’ll be far away from here. Then we can go. Besides,” I reminded him, “Friday gives me time to get the gold jewelry my parents gave me for the wedding from where it’s stored.”

  And write a letter to Amin, I thought, so he could read it one day and perhaps understand what happened. It would feel wrong, leaving without explaining to him what happened.

  * * *

  I make my way downstairs and into the kitchen. I take in the eggshell walls and wide cabinets. Soon this will just be a part of my memories. Soon I will be free.

  I pull out a tea bag from a small glass jar as the teakettle slowly steams on the stovetop. As I pull out a ceramic teacup, I hear the sound of a child’s cries down the hallway.

  I walk to Feiza’s room and knock on her door. She opens it, her hair unkempt, her eyes bloodshot.

  “What is it, Feiza? What’s the matter?”

  “It’s Zaina.” She ushers me inside.

  Zaina lies in the center of the bed, wrapped in a blue blanket. Her face is red and warm, her eyes tightly closed.

  “I don’t know what to do.” Feiza wrings her hands. She presses a wet towel to Zaina’s forehead. “She was fine yesterday, a little quieter than usual, but this morning when I went to check on her, she was shivering, and this rash, it seems to be spreading. I don’t know what happened.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  It’s Saba. She w
ears a blue ruffled outfit and stands at the edge of the bed. Yawning, she rubs sleep from her eyes.

  “I’ve been hearing noises from this room all night,” she says. “I could barely close my eyes before she started crying again.”

  The teapot begins whistling in the distance. “Let me turn that off. I’ll be right back.” I hurry to the kitchen.

  I turn off the stove and place the teapot on a cool burner when I hear Saba’s voice behind me. “I need you to do something. Zaina just threw up. Feiza is going to clean it up, and I’ll make something to help with the vomiting, but we need to get the fever down. Go to the pharmacy. It’s near the small bookstore I took you to the other day. Get her the children’s Tylenol. I heard a while ago they had a large order of it in. It’s expensive, but nothing else is working.”

  * * *

  I clench the money in my hand and walk up to the pharmacy counter, relieved no one else is ahead of me in line. The pharmacist shuffles over to me and nods when I ask for the Tylenol. He’s an elderly man with a stooped back who also sells prayer rugs and rosary beads in the adjacent store. Bringing me the medicine I need, he wordlessly slides it across the counter. Counting out the money, I hand it to him before stepping outside.

  I look around at the street. A handful of people mill about. Just then, I notice the tonga vala with his dark beard and spiraling mustache. He’s reclined in his cart. His eyes are closed. His horse, too, looks asleep. Twenty minutes. That’s how long it took me to walk here. I count out my change. Zaina needs the medicine as soon as possible. The tonga will cut the time in half.

  I walk up to him, but before I can even speak, his eyes spring open and he looks down at me. He nods as I climb into the back of his wooden cart.

  The brown horse clips against the brown road, kicking up dust as it trots. I watch small children, barefoot with toothy grins, chasing the tonga as it slowly picks up speed. Sometimes the older ones manage to jump on, grasping the edge for a little while before leaping off. I wonder where I’ll be when the youngest ones chasing the cart now are old enough to leap onto this cart.

  Suddenly the tonga jerks to the left. I slide to the edge of the cart. Straightening up, I turn to see that someone has jumped into the cart. Not a child, though—this is a grown person. I gasp. It’s Saif.

  “Array!” The tonga vala brings his horse to an abrupt stop and glares at Saif. “What do you think you are doing?”

  “Maaf kijiye,” apologizes Saif. He reaches into his kamiz and pulls out his wallet, handing him a thick wad of bills.

  “Where are you going?” His indignant expression changes to one of confusion as he counts the money in his hands.

  “Just a few more paces,” says Saif. “I’ll jump off when I reach where I need to go.”

  The man looks at the money and then at me hesitantly. “It’s okay?” he asks.

  I stare at Saif, and then the anxious tonga vala. I nod. The man, visibly relieved, turns around, stuffing the money into his pocket. The horse resumes its steady trot. Familiar homes pass along the way. Saif looks out the other side of the carriage.

  “Naila, I need to see you tonight. We need to talk.”

  Children play soccer in the street. They scatter as the tonga approaches. Barefoot toddlers stare at us. An elderly lady with a hunched back walks slowly out of her house, leaning on a cane.

  I feel sick.

  “You have no idea the risk you are putting me in,” I say through clenched teeth. “This isn’t like back home. We can’t just sit here together without people noticing.”

  “It can’t wait until Friday. Please meet me outside tonight.”

  “Okay.” I keep my eyes fixed away, looking out at the homes passing by. I hear a thud. The tonga is suddenly lighter. Saif is quickly out of sight.

  * * *

  “Good,” Nasim says when I enter the bedroom. She takes the medicine from me. Feiza lifts Zaina up from the bed, and Nasim gives her the medication.

  “Give it thirty minutes,” she tells Feiza once Zaina is lying back down. “The fever will break. All little ones get sick—she’ll be just fine.”

  “Thank you so much.” Feiza hugs me once Nasim leaves. “She’s never gotten sick like this before. I completely panicked.”

  “I know it’s scary, but she’s going to be okay.” I gently squeeze her arm.

  She sits next to me at the edge of the bed. We watch Zaina sleeping, her cheeks flushed, her breathing pronounced.

  “How are you doing?” Feiza asks softly. “Adjusting better? You seem distracted lately. Getting homesick again?”

  I look down at my lap. “I’m fine,” I tell her.

  “I know how it is. Missing your family. I think I need to visit my parents soon. Spend a few weeks with them,” Feiza says. “I’m so tired lately, and I just found out Usman isn’t coming back for at least another month.”

  “You should go visit them. You haven’t seen them since I’ve been here. I’m sure they are missing you and Zaina.”

  “I know. And they’re just an hour away by car.” She smiles at me. “It gets easier with time, but no matter how long you are married, you always miss your parents.”

  I drape an arm around her shoulder and give her a hug. But I don’t say anything. I don’t trust what I might say.

  * * *

  I lie in bed that night, waiting. I hear footsteps, and then slowly the house sinks into silence. Standing up, I slip outside and make my way to the kitchen. I undo the lock. My heart pounds in my chest; the emotions, carefully pent up all day, now threaten to suffocate me completely, and my armor comes undone.

  “I can’t believe you,” I tell him as soon as I see him. “Do you know what a huge risk you took? Us being seen together?”

  “I know. I’m sorry. But it couldn’t wait.” He runs a hand through his hair. “It’s just that, since yesterday, people have started acting strange around us. Or, well, more strange. They’ve been watching us from the start, but it used to be friendly, curious looks. Now they’re asking questions. I’m used to it,” he hurriedly assures me. “But today, my dad got stopped by three people, and they had a lot of questions about why we were here and a lot of questions about me.” He grinds his foot into the dirt. “And the numberdaar, we’re paying him generously, but today he asked us when we’re leaving. I’m sure he will let us stay longer if we pay him enough, but we need to go. My dad is really worried. He’s trying to reach my uncle so we can leave as soon as possible.”

  “When?”

  “We’re not sure about the exact timing yet, but sometime tomorrow for sure, hopefully first thing in the morning. As soon as my dad reaches my uncle, we’ll know better, but that’s why I came. You need to come with me now so we can be ready to leave as soon as he arrives.”

  “Hopefully tomorrow morning?” I repeat. “Saif, once I’m missing, the first person Nasim will call is my uncle, and then there’s no way of getting out peacefully.” I take his hand and hold it in mine. “The people hosting you might be nice, they might really need the money, but trust me, no one will want to harbor us once they know who is looking for them. I’m so sorry you’re getting harassed, and your poor father, I can’t ever thank him enough for doing all this for me, but leaving now only makes things worse. It’s worth it to wait one extra day so we can leave and stay gone. I can’t get caught again, Saif. I can’t.”

  “Okay.” He sighs. “I’ll talk to my dad. He won’t be happy, but we’ll stick to the plan. Friday after the sun sets.”

  I hug him. “I wish it could be different, but there’s no other way. Not if we can’t leave immediately. Just stay indoors. Don’t step out of the house until it’s time to leave.” I kiss him. “Friday will be here before you know it.”

  Chapter 49

  Dinner consists of chicken pulao and minced meat shami kebobs. I love these dishes, but today I can’t even pretend to eat. I pla
ce the dirty dishes in the sink and turn on the water. Tomorrow night, Amin will be back. I will see him, pretend all is well, and then I will be gone. It’s what I want. It’s what I deserve. And yet, now that it’s almost here, I feel a little nauseous.

  As I dry one of the plates with a towel, I’m startled to see Saba standing at the edge of the counter, watching me. She smiles at me widely, like the Cheshire cat.

  My heart skips a beat. I pick up another plate, rinsing it under the water. Her eyes bore into me. What did I do now? I wonder. Dinner went smoothly. Did I behave rudely without realizing? If I did, Saba will certainly let me know. I brace for the evaluation, but Saba simply stares at me in silence.

  “Is everything okay, Saba?” I finally ask.

  “I just had a question. Did you have trouble finding the pharmacy yesterday?”

  “No, I had no trouble finding it. Was I gone too long?”

  “No trouble at all?” Saba moves closer. “I heard you had trouble finding the place.”

  “You heard?”

  “Yes. I heard.” Her smile grows, spreading across her face. Her eyes dance. “Then I heard you got quite lucky and met someone who showed you how to get there.”

  “Saba, I never got lost, so that never happened. Nobody showed me how to get there. I went to the pharmacy by myself.”

  “Well, it’s what I heard.”

  “I’ve gone to the pharmacy before, so I remembered exactly where it was. I guess whoever told you I was lost was misinformed.” I’m moving away from her when I feel a tight grip on my elbow.

  Standing inches from me, she leans in. Her previously amused expression is now replaced with one of contempt. “Let’s clear something up. I am not as stupid as you might think.”

  “I don’t think you’re stupid.”

  “Then stop the act.”

  What does she think she knows? I push out a moment of panic. Does she know about the pregnancy? Because I didn’t eat dinner? Stay calm, I tell myself. This is the same girl who accused me of stealing money from Nasim’s bedroom several weeks earlier. I’m growing tired of the constant snide remarks. Why can’t she let me be? I’m not going to let her intimidate me anymore. Gripping the sink, I force myself to meet her gaze. “What is it that you understand? I’d love to clear up any misunderstanding that seems to have you so upset with me.”