I refuse to entertain the latter possibility because if it’s true, Julian is as good as dead.
The plan has to work. There is no other alternative. Majid simply needs more time. Time to sniff out that I’m here alone and unprotected—a convenient tool that they can use to force Julian to give them what they want.
“Nora? Holy shit, Nora, is that you?” A familiar voice yanks me out of my thoughts, and I turn around to see my friend Leah gaping at me with astonishment.
“Leah!” For a second, I forget all about the danger and rush forward to embrace the girl who had been my best friend for ages. “I had no idea you would be here!” And it’s true—despite my lie to my parents this morning, I had not expected to run into Leah like that. In hindsight, though, I probably should have, since we used to hang out at this mall nearly every weekend when we were younger.
“What are you doing here?” she asks when we get the hug out of the way. “I thought you were in Colombia!”
“I was—I mean, I am.” Now that the initial excitement is over, I’m realizing that running into Leah could be problematic. The last thing I want is for my friend to suffer because of me. “I’m just here for a brief visit,” I explain hurriedly, casting a worried look around. All seems to be normal, so I continue, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was home, but things were kind of hectic and, well, you know how it is . . .”
“Right, you must be busy with your new husband and stuff,” she says slowly, and I can feel the distance between us growing even though we haven’t moved an inch. We haven’t spoken since I told her about my marriage—just exchanged a few brief emails—and I see now that she still questions my sanity . . . that she no longer understands the person I’ve become.
I don’t blame her for that. Sometimes I don’t understand that person either.
“Leah, babe, there you are!” A man’s voice interrupts our conversation, and my heart jumps as a familiar male figure approaches Leah from behind me.
It’s Jake—the boy I once had a crush on.
The boy Julian stole me from that fateful night in the park.
Only he’s not a boy anymore. His shoulders are heavier now; his face is leaner and harder. At some point in the past few months, he’s become a man—a man who only has eyes for Leah. Stopping next to her, he bends down to give her a kiss and says in a low, teasing voice, “Babe, I got you that present . . .”
Leah’s pale cheeks turn beet-red. “Um, Jake,” she mumbles, tugging on his arm to draw his attention to my presence, “look who I just ran into.”
He turns toward me, and his brown eyes go round with shock. “Nora? What—what are you doing here?”
“Oh, you know . . . just—just some shopping . . .” I hope I don’t sound as dumbfounded as I feel. Leah and Jake? My best friend Leah and my former crush Jake? It’s as if my world just tilted on its axis. I had no idea they were dating. I knew Leah broke up with her boyfriend a couple of months ago because she mentioned it in an email, but she never told me she’d hooked up with Jake.
As I look at them, standing next to each other with identical uncomfortable expressions on their faces, I realize it’s not altogether illogical. They both go to the University of Michigan, and they have an overlapping circle of friends and acquaintances from our high school. They even have a traumatic experience in common—having their friend/date abducted—that could’ve brought them closer together.
I also realize in that moment that all I feel when I look at them is relief.
Relief that they seem happy together, that the darkness from my life didn’t leave a permanent stain on Jake’s. There’s no regret for what might have been, no jealousy—only an anxiety that grows with every minute Julian spends in Al-Quadar’s hands.
“I’m sorry, Nora,” Leah says, giving me a wary look. “I should’ve told you about us earlier. It’s just that—”
“Leah, please.” Pushing aside my stress and exhaustion, I manage to give her a reassuring smile. “You don’t have to explain. Really. I’m married, and Jake and I only had one date. You don’t owe me any explanations . . . I was just surprised, that’s all.”
“Do you want to, um, grab some coffee with us?” Jake offers, sliding his arm around Leah’s waist in a gesture that strikes me as unusually protective. I wonder if it’s me he’s protecting her from. If so, he’s even smarter than I thought.
“We could catch up since you’re in town and all,” he continues, and I shake my head in refusal.
“I’d love to, but I can’t,” I say, and the regret in my voice is genuine. I desperately want to catch up with them, but I can’t have them near me in case Al-Quadar chooses this particular moment to strike. I have no idea how the terrorists would get to me in the middle of a crowded mall, but I’m certain they’ll find a way. Glancing down at my phone, I pretend to be dismayed at the time and say apologetically, “I’m afraid I’m already running late . . .”
“Is your husband here with you?” Leah asks, frowning, and I see Jake’s face turning white. He probably didn’t consider the possibility of Julian being nearby when he extended his invitation to me.
I shake my head, my throat tightening as the horrible reality of the situation threatens to choke me again. “No,” I say, hoping I sound halfway normal. “He couldn’t make it.”
The plan has to work. There is no other alternative. Majid simply needs more time. Time to sniff out that I’m here alone and unprotected—a convenient tool that they can use to force Julian to give them what they want.
“Nora? Holy shit, Nora, is that you?” A familiar voice yanks me out of my thoughts, and I turn around to see my friend Leah gaping at me with astonishment.
“Leah!” For a second, I forget all about the danger and rush forward to embrace the girl who had been my best friend for ages. “I had no idea you would be here!” And it’s true—despite my lie to my parents this morning, I had not expected to run into Leah like that. In hindsight, though, I probably should have, since we used to hang out at this mall nearly every weekend when we were younger.
“What are you doing here?” she asks when we get the hug out of the way. “I thought you were in Colombia!”
“I was—I mean, I am.” Now that the initial excitement is over, I’m realizing that running into Leah could be problematic. The last thing I want is for my friend to suffer because of me. “I’m just here for a brief visit,” I explain hurriedly, casting a worried look around. All seems to be normal, so I continue, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was home, but things were kind of hectic and, well, you know how it is . . .”
“Right, you must be busy with your new husband and stuff,” she says slowly, and I can feel the distance between us growing even though we haven’t moved an inch. We haven’t spoken since I told her about my marriage—just exchanged a few brief emails—and I see now that she still questions my sanity . . . that she no longer understands the person I’ve become.
I don’t blame her for that. Sometimes I don’t understand that person either.
“Leah, babe, there you are!” A man’s voice interrupts our conversation, and my heart jumps as a familiar male figure approaches Leah from behind me.
It’s Jake—the boy I once had a crush on.
The boy Julian stole me from that fateful night in the park.
Only he’s not a boy anymore. His shoulders are heavier now; his face is leaner and harder. At some point in the past few months, he’s become a man—a man who only has eyes for Leah. Stopping next to her, he bends down to give her a kiss and says in a low, teasing voice, “Babe, I got you that present . . .”
Leah’s pale cheeks turn beet-red. “Um, Jake,” she mumbles, tugging on his arm to draw his attention to my presence, “look who I just ran into.”
He turns toward me, and his brown eyes go round with shock. “Nora? What—what are you doing here?”
“Oh, you know . . . just—just some shopping . . .” I hope I don’t sound as dumbfounded as I feel. Leah and Jake? My best friend Leah and my former crush Jake? It’s as if my world just tilted on its axis. I had no idea they were dating. I knew Leah broke up with her boyfriend a couple of months ago because she mentioned it in an email, but she never told me she’d hooked up with Jake.
As I look at them, standing next to each other with identical uncomfortable expressions on their faces, I realize it’s not altogether illogical. They both go to the University of Michigan, and they have an overlapping circle of friends and acquaintances from our high school. They even have a traumatic experience in common—having their friend/date abducted—that could’ve brought them closer together.
I also realize in that moment that all I feel when I look at them is relief.
Relief that they seem happy together, that the darkness from my life didn’t leave a permanent stain on Jake’s. There’s no regret for what might have been, no jealousy—only an anxiety that grows with every minute Julian spends in Al-Quadar’s hands.
“I’m sorry, Nora,” Leah says, giving me a wary look. “I should’ve told you about us earlier. It’s just that—”
“Leah, please.” Pushing aside my stress and exhaustion, I manage to give her a reassuring smile. “You don’t have to explain. Really. I’m married, and Jake and I only had one date. You don’t owe me any explanations . . . I was just surprised, that’s all.”
“Do you want to, um, grab some coffee with us?” Jake offers, sliding his arm around Leah’s waist in a gesture that strikes me as unusually protective. I wonder if it’s me he’s protecting her from. If so, he’s even smarter than I thought.
“We could catch up since you’re in town and all,” he continues, and I shake my head in refusal.
“I’d love to, but I can’t,” I say, and the regret in my voice is genuine. I desperately want to catch up with them, but I can’t have them near me in case Al-Quadar chooses this particular moment to strike. I have no idea how the terrorists would get to me in the middle of a crowded mall, but I’m certain they’ll find a way. Glancing down at my phone, I pretend to be dismayed at the time and say apologetically, “I’m afraid I’m already running late . . .”
“Is your husband here with you?” Leah asks, frowning, and I see Jake’s face turning white. He probably didn’t consider the possibility of Julian being nearby when he extended his invitation to me.
I shake my head, my throat tightening as the horrible reality of the situation threatens to choke me again. “No,” I say, hoping I sound halfway normal. “He couldn’t make it.”
