A Thousand Splendid Suns

When Afghanistan was free from the Soviets and the boys returned
home, they would need brides, and so, one by one, the women paraded
the neighborhood girls who might or might not be suitable for Ahmad and
Noon Laila always felt excluded when the talk turned to her brothers, as
though the women were discussing a beloved film that only she hadn't
seen. She'd been two years old when Ahmad and Noor had left Kabul for
Panjshir up north, to join Commander Ahmad Shah Massoud's forces and
fight the jihad Laila hardly remembered anything at all about them. A
shiny allah pendant around Ahmad's neck. A patch of black hairs on one
of Noor's ears. And that was it.
"What about Azita?"
"The rugmaker's daughter?" Mammy said, slapping her cheek with mock
outrage.
"She has a thicker mustache than Hakim!"
"There's Anahita. We hear she's top in her class at Zarghoona."
"Have you seen the teeth on that girl? Tombstones. She's hiding a
graveyard behind those lips."
"How about the Wahidi sisters?"
"Those two dwarfs? No, no, no. Oh, no. Not for my sons. Not for my
sultans. They deserve better."
As the chatter went on, Laila let her mind drift, and, as always, it found
Tariq.