Page 44 of The Love Match

“But why?” I whisper.

There’s nothing special about me. Nothing that could make a boy sacrifice his livelihood and passion. Not when there are plenty of beautiful girls with approving parents and the means to support his dreams.

He squeezes my hand tighter, smile dwindling even assincerity shines in his gaze. “My whole life, people thought I was too lazy or not smart enough to achieve anything on my own. That I wasn’t deserving of happiness… and I believed it.”

He emits a weary breath, and my heart breaks at the thought of him doubting himself like that, though I don’t know why I’m surprised. People always think less of poor brown kids. Think we’re charity cases and diversity picks. Here to steal their jobs and opportunities.

“That isn’t true,” I say with such fervor that he jolts. “You’re incredible, Nayim. Those people can say what they’d like, but they couldn’t do half of what you are. You’ve been working so hard to achieve your dreams.”

The smile returns, but it feels as brittle as it is bright, like a diamond. He raises his palm to cup my cheek, tracing a calloused thumb over the arch of my cheekbone to catch an errant teardrop. His confession is quiet and fragile in the air between us. “It’s been harder being here than I thought it’d be. There are so many nights I’ve stayed up asking myself, what the hell am I doing? Would I be better off if I gave up and went back to Bangladesh?”

“Nayim…” My eyes go wide.

He’s always so upbeat that I never would have guessed, but before I can tell him I’m glad he stayed, that I hope he keeps staying, he says, “There must have been a dozen times when I almost quit. But you…youbelieve in me, Zahra. Not only that, but youinspireme. Ever since we met, I keep wondering what a future together could look like. A guitar shop in NewYork. The two of us writing together every night like we did at the tea shop.”

There it is again—that unshakable surety in his voice. When he talks like this, I can picture everything he’s imagining right alongside him. It appears we both have more faith in each other than we do in ourselves.

His gaze flicks to my lips. Not giving myself the chance to second-guess the rare hum of adrenaline that trills through my veins, I careen forward and brush them against his. His mouth is soft and sweet and I sigh against him.

Never have I let myself dream about a boy like Nayim.

Except, here Nayim is, real.

He smiles in return, more genuinely this time, pulling back just enough to whisper, “Are you sure this is okay? It won’t cause any problems with the guy you’re dating?”

“Harun?” The mention of my fake boyfriend sends me spiraling back to earth. I cringe and shake my head. “You don’t have to worry about that. There’s nothing between us.”

Amma, on the other hand…

“Good.” Nayim’s reddened lips stretch wider. “Because I’d really like to kiss you again.”

I bite my lower lip. We’re not supposed to be doing this. Being alone. Holding hands. Kissing. Our religion forbids any physical intimacy before marriage.

Isn’t he worried? Guilty?

But even if I wanted to wait for him, even if we did everything by the book, would Amma ever let us be together?

And yet… another look in Nayim’s eyes, and I see an entire future waiting for me to take hold of it. It’s so easy to believe it can be real.

Taking a deep breath, I say, “I want this.”

When his lips brush against mine for the second time, all thoughts of my mother, spying aunties, my fake relationship, and eternal damnation fade away.

THE AUNTIE NETWORK

Sharmila:

Meera Afa, didn’t you say Zaynab matched Zahra with the Emon boy?

Meera:

Heh. They had their second date not long ago. Khenno? ??

Sharmila:

Khatun, do you want to tell Afa what you saw or should I?

Khatun:

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