spoken to anyone about the life sheâd once had. âMy brother was the steady, calm one of the two of us. He was well suited to life in our village, to working in the huge fig and date groves that bring the village its income.â
âYou werenât born to be a farmer.â
âNo.â She smiled a bittersweet smile, her hands gripping the edge of the bench on which they sat. âMy father said that, too. That was why he supported my studiesâhe made me do my homework, got me what I needed in terms of study aids, paid for advanced classes I could take through the computer.â
âIt sounds like he was proud of you.â
âYes.â She swallowed. âBut you see, he thought Iâd end up running the power station in the villageâitâs the biggest, most prestigious job there. And really, really important.â
âSo far out, power can save lives.â
âYes.â As theyâd both seen in the quake zone. âBut Iâd learned how to run the power station by age sixteen, and I knew there was so much more out there in the world. So I applied for a scholarship on my own, one that meant I could study engineering.â She could still remember how her pulse had fluttered, how her palms had sweated as she filled in the online application form.
âDid the rift happen then?â
âNo.â Her heart ached again, a throb of sorrow. âI was so scared heâd be angry at what Iâd done, but my father was
so
proud that his daughter was one of only five students in the entire country chosen for a scholarship based on academic merit. He told everyone, held a celebration.â Tazia swallowed her tears as her mind filled with memories of the way her father had danced her across the square, her skirt swirling around her legs.
âWhen the time came, I was afraid to go to the big city to study.â All at once, sheâd realized sheâd be far from home, from family. âBut my father spoke to a friend he had in the city, and I boarded with them.â Jedim Nerif had made sure his spark of a daughter had a family away from family. âThey had a girl at university, too, and she helped me, but I went home every holiday I could. I missed everyone so much.â
Stefan no doubt knew how this story would end, but he stayed silent, let her speak.
âI was happy to be done with my studies, to return home. But I knew even then that Iâd have to leave again if I was to practice as an engineer.â She blew out a breath. âI thought I could send money back,help the village, but my father, he hadnât given up on his dream that Iâd run the power station . . . or that Iâd marry the son of the man who was a good friend.â
Stefan, forearms braced on his thighs, sun on his hair, seemed to go motionless. âHe wished to force you into marriage?â
âNo, Stefan, it wasnât like that. He knew Kabir and I were friends, that Kabir was a good man who would care for me and who would support me in my important job.â She tried to make Stefan understand. âIn my culture, the father is responsible for his daughterâs happiness. If Iâd said I didnât like Kabir, or even that Iâd met another suitable man, he mightâve been angry, but he wouldnât have forced the match.
âBut what I said was that I didnât want to marry at all.â She could still see the shock on her fatherâs face at her declaration. âI knew if I did, Iâd never be able to do what I wanted to with my life, which was to work on the Alaris team. If not that, then another location thatâd test my skills.â Sheâd been so hungry for knowledge. âAll the men my father wouldâve accepted as suitable came from the village, and they wouldâve all wanted me to stay there. Even Kabir wouldnât have been so accepting as to allow his wife to work on an island far