chapter four.

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Eid was a bit lonely; Samira couldn't wake up early to bug her younger siblings while they slept quietly, nor could she tiptoe into the kitchen to sneak in homemade desserts while her mother cooked peacefully. It was hard to complain, however, because Eid was rather nice in London with Baneen Aunty and Jaami Uncle. The mosque was full of different people, with the stores alongside it selling her favorite sweets. The children running around with their new toys made her feel just a little more at home.

After getting 2 hours of sleep the night before after helping Baneen Aunty prepare morning's breakfast, Samira lay exhausted on a bed in Baneen Aunty's guest room, holding her phone high as she FaceTimed her friend, still in her salwar kameez. It was a Pakistani suit, white and red, with pearls embedded into the seams. Her makeup was light, her hair was straightened, and her eyes were drooping.

"How was last weekend? Did you do anything fun?" Samira heard Mahnoor's sweet voice through the phone.

Without Mahnoor, Samira could confidently say she'd be dead. Mahnoor had been in Samira's life since she was 16 and they'd grown quite close in the last 7 years. They were adults now; Mahnoor was a married woman. No matter how grown they were, Samira could never go long without talking to her.

"Well, I drank a few days ago," she answered disappointedly, looking at the tiny face on the screen.

"What!?"

"But it was an accident."

"Oh no." Mahnoor raised her perfectly threaded eyebrows, shocked. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. A friend helped me." Her eyes distended. "Holy shit, did I tell you?"

"What?"

"The boy on the train. He's one of Tasneem's friends. He helped me sober up."

"Wow, you found him." Her smile widened. "What's his name?"

"Harry."

"Sounds hot," Mahnoor teased.

Samira snorted. "He kind of is." She remembered his dorky awkwardness, smiling softly.

"Do you like him?"

It was common for Mahnoor to always ask that whenever Samira mentioned any guy, no matter who he was. Mahnoor already had Samira's wedding planned and the last thing left was finding a man.

—But this wasn't the man.

Samira shook her head confidently. "What do you think this is, a Bollywood movie? And he's white."

Mahnoor narrowed her eyes in annoyance. "Literally both of your exes are white, Mimi."

Samira shrugged, disregarding the known fact. "And now I want a brown husband. Your point?"

"Do you think you'll find someone yourself?"

"No. The men I attract are trash."

Mahnoor smirked. "That says something, right."

Samira's mouth fell agape. "I hate you."

"Okay, but, are you alright? Are you happy there?" Mahnoor rested her chin in her palm, looking at Samira endearingly.

"Of course, I am." Samira smiled at the thoughtfulness of her question.

"Good."

"You're such a mom."

Mahnoor laughed, her pearly teeth shining. "I know."

"When are you going to actually become one, though?" Samira taunted, just like Mahnoor had about Samira's marriage.

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