“Mama, I didn’t know you had a friend here. Did you, Abbu? Dad. Baba. Father.” I squeeze her hand reassuringly. “No, baby. I did not know my wife had a friend here.” I try to hide my jealousy behind a calm façade. The worker notices our tension and quickly makes an excuse to leave. I feel grateful for my daughter’s protective instincts as he scurries away. “Well, well, well,” Alina says smoothly, “was that jealousy I saw from the two of you?” “It was mostly her.” I point at Zoha. She doesn’t deny it and instead hugs Alina’s legs. “And it’s a general rule for a husband to feel jealous when a
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