There had been none of this self-doubt, this uncertainty.
What a terrible thing it was, Laila thought now, for a mother to fear that she could not summon love for her own child.
What an unnatural thing. And yet she had to wonder, as she lay on the floor, her sweaty hands poised to guide the spoke,
if indeed she could ever love Rasheed's child as she had Tariq's. In the end, Laila couldn't do it.
It wasn't the fear of bleeding to death that made her drop the spoke, or even the idea that the act was damnable which she suspected it was.
Laila dropped the spoke because she could not accept what the Mujahideen readily had: that sometimes in war innocent life had to be taken.
Her war was against Rasheed. The baby was blameless. And there had been enough killing already.
Laila had seen enough killing of innocents caught in the crossfire of enemies.
39. Mariam SEPTEMBER 1997
“This hospital no longer treats women,” the guard barked.
He was standing at the top of the stairs, looking down icily on the crowd gathered in front of Malalai Hospital.
A loud groan rose from the crowd. “But this is a women's hospital!” a woman shouted behind Mariam.
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