Chapter 43
Nasreen Baji and Jawad Sahib sat at the dining table eating breakfast. Mumtaz brought out fresh parathas and a plate of softened butter. Everything was normal. It was an ordinary morning. I reminded myself of this.
Nabila placed a glass of orange juice next to Nasreen Baji’s plate and a glass next to Jawad Sahib. He talked with his mother. He needed new suits. The gray one looked worn.
After they finished their meals, Jawad Sahib yawned.
“No chai for me today.” He rubbed his eyes. “I’m taking a quick nap.”
“You see?” Nasreen Baji admonished him. “You work too hard. One can’t be up at all hours and expect not to be affected.”
I gathered the dishes to take to the kitchen. I washed up the pots and pans and dried my hands. I picked up my satchel and headed to Ghulam’s waiting car.
I hurried down the narrow corridor toward Asif’s classroom. He was at his desk sorting through papers when I stepped inside.
“I need your help,” I said. I tried to stay steady, but everything was catching up to me. The room spun.
Asif took my arm and helped me to a chair. “Take a deep breath. Okay, good. Now tell me. What’s wrong?”
I hadn’t planned to blurt out everything. But the words wouldn’t stop flowing. About the officers. The body. The threats to my neighbors.
When I finished, I caught my breath. Asif’s face had gone pale.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t burden you with this,” I said.
“Don’t apologize. I’m glad you told me.”
“The third tree past the sign for Minawala.” My voice wavered. “That’s where the body is buried. At least I hope it’s still there. I thought maybe you or your father could share that information wherever it needs to go. He’s a lawyer, you said?”
Asif stared at me, and then he rested his elbows on the table and rubbed his temples. “Sharing this with my father doesn’t mean anything will actually happen, but if word gets out that they are on to a body, Jawad might hear. There’s a chance he could tie it to me, which could lead to you.”
“Oh,” I said. “I didn’t even think of that.”
“You live in that house, Amal. If he finds out, it could be bad for you.”
I thought of Hazarabad and the burned fields. The charred orange groves. I thought of Fozia.
“It’s worth the risk,” I said.
“I’ll call my father,” he said. “I’ll see what he says.”
“Thank you, Asif. I’m forever indebted to you.”
“There’s no debt, Amal.” He studied me for a moment. “I’m not sure I’ve ever met anyone as brave as you,” he finally said.
“I’m not brave. I’m terrified. I just don’t have a choice.”
“You always have a choice. Making choices even when they scare you because you know it’s the right thing to do—that’s bravery.”