More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
Why do things always sound sadder in Urdu? Prettier too.
Those days were the first times she really felt like a sister. Like it was a job she had to do, and that she would do her best at it. And after, she never stopped feeling it.
They were all cruel to each other. They could not even get through one dinner. She stared at the food on her plate and made a silent pact with herself: she would work hard, she would study, and she would find herself a new family. A new house that never got angry, a home where weeks would pass without a voice raised.
Bright, big moon. Sky dark with patches of lighter blue. And gray clouds, thin streaks of them. Innumerable tiny stars. How can she be upset when the world looks like this?
Don’t make the mistake of confusing a sad state with an interesting life.”
Layla never gets books for herself. Maybe she should.
She was stunned and stunned again by them, and her love for them. How much had been lost? Never made it into her memory, never been captured in a photograph?
She cannot call forth the last time the sun saw her skin. She feels like a girl.
One day she will look back and think: It was not bad. We were so blessed. There were days like this. Sunny and beautiful,
Afsoos was the word in Urdu. There was no equivalent in English. It was a specific kind of regret—not wishing he had acted differently, but a helpless sadness at the situation as it was, a sense that it could not have been another way.
Everyone liked Amar. To know him longer was to complicate the adoration one felt for him,
Sometimes, even now, I wonder if you realized that the world loved you, softened at your presence.
We were so proud of them both. But once the phone clicked to end their call we were so very alone. Each of you had left us in your own way.
