True that it would be preferable that you marry a local, a Tajik, but Rasheed is healthy, and interested in you.
He has a home and a job. That's all that really matters, isn't it?
And Kabul is a beautiful and exciting city. You may not get another opportunity this good.”
Mariam turned her attention to the wives. “I'll live with Mullah Faizullah,” she said.
“He'll take me in. I know he will.” “That's no good,” Khadija said.
“He's old and so...” She searched for the right word, and Mariam knew then that what she really wanted to say was He is so close.
She understood what they meant to do. You may not get another opportunity this good. And neither would they.
They had been disgraced by her birth, and this was their chance to erase, once and for all, the last trace of their husband's scandalous mistake.
She was being sent away because she was the walking, breathing embodiment of their shame.
“He's so old and weak,” Khadija eventually said. “And what will you do when he's gone? You'd be a burden to his family.”
As you are now to us. Mariam almost saw the unspoken words exit Khadija's mouth, like foggy breath on a cold day.
Mariam pictured herself in Kabul, a big, strange, crowded city that, Jalil had once told her,
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