"So is she. You'll see."
"I'll count the minutes."
Almost ten years had passed since they had last seen each other. Laila's mind flashed to all
the times they'd met in the alley, kissing in secret. She wondered how she must seem to him
now. Did he still find her pretty? Or did she seem withered to him, reduced, pitiable, like a
fearful, shuffling old woman? Almost ten years. But, for a moment, standing there with
Tariq in the sunlight, it was as though those years had never happened. Her parents' deaths,
her marriage to Rasheed, the killings, the rockets, the Taliban, the beatings, the hunger,
even her children, all of it seemed like a dream, a bizarre detour, a mere interlude between
that last afternoon together and this moment.
Then Tariq's face changed, turned grave. She knew this expression. It was the same look
he'd had on his face that day, all those years ago when they'd both been children, when he'd
unstrapped his leg and gone after Khadim. He reached with one hand now and touched the
comer of her lower lip.
"He did this to you," he said coldly.
At his touch, Laila remembered the frenzy of that afternoon again when they'd conceived
Aziza. His breath on her neck, the muscles of his hips flexing, his chest pressing against her
breasts, their hands interlocked.
"I wish I'd taken you with me," Tariq nearly whispered.
Laila had to lower her gaze, try not to cry.
"I know you're a married woman and a mother now. And here I am, after all these years,
after all that's happened, showing up at your doorstep. Probably, it isn't proper, or fair, but
I've come such a long way to see you, and... Oh, Laila, I wish I'd never left you."
"Don't," she croaked.
"I should have tried harder. I should have married you when I had the chance. Everything
would have been different, then."
"Don't talk this way. Please. It hurts."
He nodded, started to take a step toward her, then stopped himself. "I don't want to assume
anything. And I don't mean to turn your life upside down, appearing like this out of
nowhere. If you want me to leave, if you want me to go back to Pakistan, say the word,
Laila. I mean it. Say it and I'll go. I'll never trouble you again. I'll "
"No!" Laila said more sharply than she'd intended to. She saw that she'd reached for his
arm, that she was clutching it. She dropped her hand. "No. Don't leave, Tariq. No. Please