Page 57 of Oliver
The warmth in her voice was a lie. A veneer of concern stretched thin over something colder, sharper.
She glided toward me, effortlessly regal, undeniably in control. Even in yoga pants, she carried herself like a woman who had already won whatever battle she was about to start.
When she lowered herself onto the bench beside me, I moved instinctively, making space.
“Darryl’s mother is insisting on more flowers in the arrangements, and your great-aunt just informed us she’s bringing a plus-one, so we need to work on the seating charts.”
“I’ll handle it.” I started to rise, only to be stopped by her hand on my wrist.
Aunt Maryam released a long, disappointed sigh. “It should have already been handled, Zahra.”
I sank back onto the bench. "I'm sorry."
"Sorry doesn't rearrange the seating chart or handle the florist." Her perfectly manicured nails dug into my flesh. “This is exactly what I was afraid would happen. You were always reckless.”
I stiffened, my teeth clenching. “I’m not reckless.”
“No?” She tilted her head, her gaze flicking to Oliver’s mark, her nose crinkling in disapproval. “Then what would you call it? Destroying your reputation over a man who won’t even be here in a week?”
“I don’t understand.”
She smiled, and I braced myself.
“Oh, Zahra.” She exhaled my name like a sigh, like a mother dealing with a particularly difficult child. “The entire hotel knows what you were doing last night.”
The weight of her words sank into my stomach like a stone.
She shook her head. Not angry, not even surprised. Just disappointed.
"I knew that man was no good the moment I laid eyes on him."
"Oliver?" The unfairness of her judgment stung, but I couldn’t bring myself to outright argue with her. She’d long been the matriarch of our family, the one whose authority we all deferred to, and challenging her, at her own daughter’s wedding no less, was the kind of disrespect I was raised never to commit.
“Do you have any idea what obscenities people are whispering about you? No decent man would cause a woman such public shame.”
I bit my tongue against the defense that rose in my throat. Years of experience had taught me it was easier to weather Aunt Maryam's storms in silence.
“He lets you run wild,” she said simply, her hold like cast iron shackles despite being light. “A good man would be guiding you, shaping you into someone worthy of your status.”
My stomach twisted. In Auntie’s mind, guidance actually meant control.
“He’s nothing but a distraction from your bright future.” She smoothed invisible wrinkles from her yoga pants. “A future you should be building here in Norman, with your family.”
“My life is in Seattle, Auntie,” I said quietly, my eyes fixed on the fountain.
“What life?” she asked with a disdainful laugh. “Your scientist? He’ll be gone in a week, back to whatever laboratory he crawled out of. And where will that leave you?"
Alone. Exactly as planned.
“My business is in Seattle, too.”
“Your business would have been thriving if you’d stayed here, and married a respectable young man from a good family. Someone with connections, with the power to open doors.”
The realization was a slap to the face. She wasn't merely disapproving of Oliver; she was actively pushing me toward someone else. Someone she deemed more suitable, more aligned with her vision for the Nazarian clan and their affluence in Norman.
Someone like Ryan.
My stomach twisted into nausea-inducing knots. This was more than Ryan effectively working his charm, this was a calculated choice. Not about my happiness, not about my wellbeing, but about expanding my family’s reach. I was nothing more than a trading card for Maryam.
