Page 51 of The Love Match

It goessowell, in fact, that Amma lets me tell Nayim goodbye alone once we’ve enjoyed the desserts he brought from Chai Ho. Out on the porch, we gaze at each other, then say simultaneously, “I think that went okay.”

Nayim laughs, and I can’t help joining him, but when I catch my breath, I realize his eyes are dark with some unknown emotion, an enamored smile that makes my knees weak stretching across his lips.

“God,” he murmurs. “I wish I could kiss you right now.”

“You can’t. My—”

“I know. Your mother will see. Or your siblings or your grandmother or your landlady, who I hear hanging about downstairs.”

“Yeah,” I mumble. “Sorry.”

He reaches a hand toward my cheek but doesn’t quite cup it, before letting it fall away. “It’s fine for now, but I hate saying goodbye, so I’ll say good night.”

“Night, Nayim…”

“Good night, Zahra.”

My heart still hasn’t quieted when I get back inside.

Chapter19

Contrary to my expectations, almostno one is attempting to eavesdrop in the living room. I bet I can thank Nanu for that. She must have roped Resna and Arif into helping her wash the dishes. But Amma is sitting on the couch.

The hopeful butterflies fluttering in my belly gain wings of wax when our eyes meet, hers ablaze with grim determination. I clutch my stomach as I force my legs to take me to the couch and sit. Her hand splays across my back, rubbing up and down my spine.

“Amma, please—”

“Don’t make me do this, Zahra,” she pleads. “Don’t force me to be the evil mother who has to tell you no.”

“Why do you have to, though?” I demand.

“You’re so young. You don’t understand the ways of the world yet.”

“That didn’t stop you from setting me up with Harun!” I yell, surging to my feet despite my original intention to keep itdown so no one else could listen in. I can’t help it, though. Her hypocrisy makes me fume. “Why am I old enough formarriagewith Harun, but not getting to know Nayim? I like him and he believes in my dreams.”

“It’s because of your dreams that I want Harun for you,” she replies quietly.

My eyelids fly apart. It’s the first time in years that I’ve brought up writing with her, though she’s seen me working on it recently and has only bothered to comment that I shouldn’t stay up too long doing it, clearly prioritizing my job. What could she possibly mean about Harun making my dreams come true? “How does that make any sense? How would becoming his wife at eighteen help me with college or writing?”

“Harun can take care of you!” When I start at her harsh words, she grows soft again, reaching to take my hand in hers. I’m too shaken to stop her from pulling me back down next to her. “You don’t think I’ve seen you writing by the light of your laptop so late at night? You think I haven’t seen those pamphlets of universities you hide around your room? Of course I have, and I’ve always wished I could give you those things, Zahra, but I can’t. Not by myself. I also know, if Harun loves you,hecan. Let you go to college. Support the family while you write.”

In a convoluted way, it makes sense.

Baba took care of her when he was alive. When she lost him, she lost more than just her husband. She lost her entire sense of self and had to find it again.Remakeherself again.She’s a very different person now from the one she was two years ago. Overnight, she went from a housewife to a single working mother.

In her generation, it’s not uncommon for many women to want nothing more than to be mothers and wives. Sometimes because they choose it, to which I say more power to them. But many times, because it’s all they know. It’s allsheknows.

It’s the only future she can imagine where I’ll be safe and happy.

“But I don’twantsomeone else tolet medo things, Amma,” I answer, glaring at the coffee table, which was cleared of everything but her sewing machine when Nayim came. “I can support myself, the way Nayim does, if I have to. I’ve already been working—”

“I know,” she interrupts. “How do you think I feel, seeing you throw your childhood away to help me keep a roof over our heads? I don’t want to watch you struggle forever, shuna. I refuse to. What’s more, I don’t thinkyouwill feel the same way about Nayim when you’re, what, following him from Paterson to his next destination, begging for change on the streets? You won’t feel the same about writing, either. You’ll be too tired for dreams.”

My whole body goes cold. “How long have you known about Nayim?”

“Long enough,” Amma replies wearily, pupils flitting toward her phone on the coffee table. I glare at it. Of course, the Auntie Network has always been a step ahead of me. “When I first heard about it, I hoped he was just a passingcuriosity, but after the way you looked at him tonight…” She shakes her head. “You’re more like me than either of us want to admit. I couldn’t let go of your father, either.”

“What?” I gasp. “Baba?”

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