forehead. Father had told her not to tell anyone who she was.
âWe have to go back to Peshawar,â said Zafoona, sounding more desperate by the minute. âWe shouldnât have come here without finding her first.â
âWe couldnât do that,â said Habib softly. âWe would have been stuck in Pakistan without the chance for asylum. We would be a family without a country. There was no way we could go back to Afghanistan.â
âWhatâs more important? Gaining asylum or finding our daughter?â shouted Zafoona. âIf it wasnât for your stubborn insistence that we go back to Afghanistan five years ago, we wouldnât be in this mess right now!â
Fadiâs knees shook as he leaned against the wall. Heâd never heard his mother speak to his father like this.
âWhere is your ghayrat ?â said Zafoona, her voice bitter.
A hush fell over the apartment as Fadi froze. Questioning a manâs ghayrat , or ability to uphold his familyâs honor, was one of the most insulting things you could say to a Pukhtun. Fadi knew his father had to be furious, and embarrassed in front of the others.
âNow, Zafoona jaan , donât blame Brother Habib,â said Khala Nilufer in a rush. âWho was to know this would happen? It was an accident. Itâs no oneâs fault.â
âOh, Habib,â sobbed Zafoona, her mood mercurial. âIâm so sorry. I shouldnât have said that.⦠Itâs justthat Iâm so tired, and the medicines, they make my head swim.⦠Iâm just not myself these days.â
âNo,â came Habibâs quiet voice. âYouâre right. It is my fault. I am head of this family. It was my responsibility.â
Silence descended over the apartment. Fadi sank to his knees, overwhelmed with guilt. It was his fault that Mariam had been left behind, not his fatherâs, not Noorâs, not his motherâs. He inched back toward the living room and came to a halt in front of the group. He gulped, opening his mouth to confess. But as the words formulated in his brain, something else flew out entirely.
âMariam knows where we were going,â blurted Fadi. âI told her about Motherâs cousin who lives in Peshawar and that she was going to meet us at the border.â
âYou told her that?â said Zafoona, wiping away tears.
âYes,â said Fadi, âbut I didnât remember Khala Nargisâs name, just that she was your cousin and that she and her husband ran a clinic for refugees.â
âSo she knows we have family in Peshawar,â said Khala Nilufer, her face eager. âThatâs good. Maybe sheâll tell the family sheâs with to take her to a clinic.â
âAllah willing, maybe sheâll find us!â said Zafoona, a spark of light entering her eyes.
âGood job, Fadi,â said Uncle Amin. âYou should have told us this a long time ago.â
âItâs a good possibility,â said Habib, holding up his hand, âbut letâs not get our hopes up too much.â
âThen find the money to go back to Peshawar, Habib,â said Zafoona. She shot her husband an angry look. âLetâs go to the border and find her.â
Habib closed his eyes and looked the other way. âI would love to do that, jaan ,â he whispered. âBut you know as well as I do, that will take time.â
Fadi looked at the sadness on his fatherâs face and wanted to hide away in a ball of shame. Itâs me that has no honor. All this is my fault. I have to do something. But what?
After a quick snack of crackers and peanut butter, Fadi grabbed his camera and left the apartment. Noor had returned from work, and their parents were telling her about Professor Sahibâs phone call. He caught a glimpse of hope on her face just as the door closed behind him. He clambered down the stairs and exited the apartment complex. It