“I will still cook and wash the dishes. You will do the laundry and the sweeping. The rest we will alternate daily.
And one more thing. I have no use for your company. I don't want it. What I want is to be alone.
You will leave me be, and I will return the favor. That's how we will get on. Those are the rules.”
When she was done speaking, her heart was hammering and her mouth felt parched.
Mariam had never before spoken in this manner, had never stated her will so forcefully.
It ought to have felt exhilarating, but the girl's eyes had teared up and her face was drooping,
and what satisfaction Mariam found from this outburst felt meager, somehow illicit.
She extended the shirts toward the girl. “Put them in the almari, not the closet.
He likes the whites in the top drawer, the rest in the middle, with the socks.”
The girl set the cup on the floor and put her hands out for the shirts, palms up.
“I'm sorry about all of this,” she croaked. “You should be,” Mariam said. “You should be sorry.”
32. Laila
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