The next day, Emine’s mother and sister visited. She begged them to come home, saying the house felt lifeless without them. Omer and Samad barely showed up either.
“It’s just Saher and me now!” she lamented, crossing her arms like a child who had lost her toy.
Saher, too, looked heartbroken. She and AAliya were sitting together, hands clasped like inseparable twins. Over the last few months, they had become close friends. AAliya’s kindness made it easy. Zulfiya silently wiped away tears, her head bowed. Damir stood in the middle of them, unsure how to stop the emotional whirlwind.
“Alright!” he said loudly. Eight teary eyes looked up. “We’re going out. All of us.”
They hesitated in shock, but his firm tone had them moving quickly. Fifteen minutes later, AAliya sat in the front seat beside him, the two mothers and Saher in the back.
They went to a restaurant first. Omer hadn’t cut off Damir’s credit card, not wanting to upset his wife. For now, Damir still had access to enough money to support the whole family.
He hated depending on Omer, but what choice did he have? So he told himself he’d pay it all back one day, even if he had to join the mafia to do it. At the restaurant, Emine began reminiscing about Iran. Zulfiya joined in, and soon the women were deep in conversation. AAliya, though, remained quiet. Damir felt guilty—he had been neglecting her. He reached over and took her hand, making her jump a little.
“Sweetheart?”
