“Night Beauty. It's perfect.” Rasheed made a ball of rice with his fingers.
He put it in his mouth, chewed once, then twice, before grimacing and spitting it out on the sofrah.
“What's the matter?” Mariam asked, hating the apologetic tone of her voice.
She could feel her pulse quickening, her skin shrinking.
“What's the matter?” he mewled, mimicking her. “What's the matter is that you've done it again.”
But I boiled it five minutes more than usual.“That's a bold lie.”
“I swear—” He shook the rice angrily from his fingers and pushed the plate away, spilling sauce and rice on the sofrah.
Mariam watched as he stormed out of the living room, then out of the house, slamming the door on his way out.
Mariam kneeled to the ground and tried to pick up the grains of rice and put them back on the plate,
but her hands were shaking badly, and she had to wait for them to stop.
Dread pressed down on her chest. She tried taking a few deep breaths.
She caught her pale reflection in the darkened living room window and looked away.
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