“I figured no sense in skipping our routine, eh?” “You know I don't need lessons anymore, Mullah sahib.
You taught me every surah and ayat in the Koran years ago.”
He smiled, and raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I confess, then. I've been found out.”
“But I can think of worse excuses to visit you.” “You don't need excuses. Not you.”
“You're kind to say that, Mariam jo.” He passed her his Koran.
As he'd taught her, she kissed it three times, touching it to her brow between each kiss, and gave it back to him.
“How are you, my girl?” “I keep,” Mariam began. She had to stop, feeling like a rock had lodged itself in her throat.
“I keep thinking of what she said to me before I left. She—” “Nay, nay, nay.”
Mullah Faizullah put his hand on her knee. “Your mother, may Allah forgive her, was a troubled and unhappy woman, Mariam jo.”
“She did a terrible thing to herself. To herself, to you, and also to Allah.”
“He will forgive her, for He is all forgiving, but Allah is saddened by what she did.”
“He does not approve of the taking of life, be it another's or one's own, for He says that life is sacred. You see—”
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