Maheen continued talking as Hena exhaled slowly. The note left in her purse made more sense now. Someone thought she was involved with not one, but two men in the span of barely twenty-four hours.
“Don’t worry about Haris’s mom,” Maheen added. “She can be pissed all she wants. That’s how moms are. You know she threw a party when his divorce was finalized? Can you imagine? That woman would do anything for her precious son.”
“Auntie Nipa doesn’t need to worry,” Hena said, hoping the words might somehow travel back to her. “We’re old friends. That’s all.”
Old friends who had kissed once. But that was a lifetime ago. Besides, he was Nasir’s best friend. Just as critically, he was from this community she desperately wanted to leave behind her. Which meant the door had to stay firmly shut.
“Yeah?” Maheen looked mildly disappointed. “For therecord, if I had to choose, I’d pick Reza. He ishot. Want me to get some intel for you? I can be subtle.”
“Definitely not,” Hena said quickly. “I do not want you to—”
Too late. Maheen was already walking over to him.
Hena watched helplessly as her cousin leaned on the table.
“I hear you’re single,” she said to Reza. “So tell me, who let you get away and why?”
Hena buried her face in her hands. Mortified. She was officially mortified. At least Reza seemed amused.
She needed an exit. Any exit.
“I’ll go check on Inaya,” she muttered, backing away.
The sun was shrouded in clouds when Hena spotted the girl on the boardwalk, crouched low. Her attention fixed on something across from her.
“Did you find the bunny?” Hena called.
No answer. Inaya didn’t move.
“Inaya?”
The girl’s eyes lifted to Hena’s. Her lower lip trembled.
“Auntie,” she whimpered. “Help.”
Hena’s eyes followed the girl’s finger. Her stomach dropped.
Time slowed.
She was seeing things. She had to be.
Except this was real.
There was the bunny. Or rather—therehad been. An enormous python was currently devouring it in slow, slurping gulps.
And it wasn’t alone. Five others slithered nearby. The largest of them—coiled and thick as an old tree trunk—lay inches from Inaya’s feet.
Hena’s skin prickled. She forced her demeanor as calm as she could make it. “Inaya. Stay still. I’ll be there in a second.”
She inched closer to the boardwalk across the damp, spongelike ground. Her heels sank deeper with each step. From the corner of her eye she spotted another python slithering in the muck.
The little girl saw it and whimpered louder. She turned toward Hena.
“Inaya—no!” Hena cried out as the heel of the girl’s shoe grazed the reptile’s tan and black scales.
The creature didn’t move.
Not yet.