Sophie,Cousin of the Bride
If I were contemplating murder, there really wouldn’t be a better place to get away with it than Florida.SouthFlorida to be precise. Home to 1.5 million acres of the Everglades. No matter where you go, from the glitzy art deco of South Beach to the suburban outlet malls, there’s no escaping that swamp. It’s full of alligators, crocodiles, and exotic pythons that can devour an adult deer without blinking. Don’t forget the tannic acid pooling in the waters either. With time, it can dissolve just about anything. Even bone. The Glades have swallowed whole airplanes flying overhead—even with all their fancy GPS and SOS signals, they vanished without a trace.
Now, I’m not saying Hena did anything. Don’t put me down as saying that. I’m not. All I’m saying is her fiancé, Nasir Wahidi, disappeared into thin air the night before their wedding. No one’s heard a word from him since. And guess what? Her family mansion backs up to that goddamn swamp.
So, I suppose what Iamsaying is, draw your own conclusion.
1
•
Hena sat by her kitchen window, finishing her morning coffee as fog rolled in over the Golden Gate Bridge. As she reached for an envelope from a stack of mail, her phone buzzed. Her book club, she guessed. They were still pinning down logistics for tonight’s meetup.
But the number flashing on the screen wasn’t anyone from book club. It was her little sister. She was calling. Lulu never called.
Hena’s throat caught as she stared at Lulu’s goofy grin, lit up on her phone. Her brown eyes partially obscured by a curtain of bangs from her blue-hair phase when she was eighteen. It was when Hena had seen her last. When they were inseparable. When Lulu still loved her.
“I wanted you to hear it from me,” Lulu said when Hena answered, sliding past pleasantries. “I’m getting married.”
Married?Hena winced as her finger sliced against the edge of the envelope she had been opening. Blood pooled on the tip of her index finger. She pressed a napkin against it to stem the bleeding. Lulu was twenty-one. Nine years her junior. Far too young. But her sister hadn’t called for Hena’s opinion.
“Who’s the lucky guy?” she asked instead, as her tabby, Roscoe, brushed against her leg.
“You know him. Khaled.”
Wait. What? Hena sat up straighter.
“Haris’s cousin?” she asked. “Did Ammi set this up?”
“This isn’t an arranged marriage.” Lulu scoffed. “We’ve known each other forever. I ran into him at Auntie Hanifa’s anniversary party last year. One thing led to another…”
She filled Hena in on how Khaled had accompanied his parents to their family home for a formal marriage proposal, complete with laddus, gulab jamun, and other desi sweets.
Hena’s chest constricted. She knew Khaled. He was the pale-faced kid who’d played football with the other boys at the auntie- and uncle-filled desi potlucks of her youth. His cousin Haris—her first kiss—was best friends with Nasir, the man she’d nearly married.
Hena fled to the other side of the country to escape that world. Her kid sister was hitching herself to it for life?
Lulu had stopped talking. She was waiting for a response.
“Congratulations,” Hena managed to say. “When’s the big day?”
“Saturday.”
“As in three days from now?” she said, half joking.
“Two days, actually. The welcome party is Friday evening. Can you come?”
Hena’s cheeks warmed. Why was she surprised? Sure, they exchanged the occasional birthday text, but this was the first time she’d heard Lulu’s voice in three years. Why wouldn’t she be the last to know about her wedding?
“Thanks for keeping me in the loop,” Hena said.
“Don’t do that,” Lulu warned. “It came together faster than we expected, but it’s not like you’d have wanted to come. I can’t remember the last time you’ve been home.”
Hena remembered. The last time she’d been in Pembroke Pines was three years, two weeks, and five days ago. Lulu knew why she hadn’t been back. Hena was not welcome.
“Why bother inviting me now?” Hena asked.
“Ammi wants you there.”