A Thousand Splendid Suns

stood by the front gates, leaning against them, when she'd heard a loud
crack and something had zipped by her right ear, sending tiny splinters
of wood flying before her eyes. After Giti's death, and the thousands of
rounds fired and myriad rockets that had fallen on Kabul, it was the sight
of that single round hole in the gate, less than three fingers away from
where Laila's head had been, that shook Mammy awake. Made her see
that one war had cost her two children already; this latest could cost her
her remaining one.
From the walls of the room, Ahmad and Noor smiled down. Laila
watched Mammy's eyes bouncing now, guiltily, from one photo to the
other. As if looking for their consent. Their blessing. As if asking for
forgiveness.
"There's nothing left for us here," Babi said. "Our sons are gone, but we
still have Laila. We still have each other, Fariba. We can make a new
life."
Babi reached across the bed. When he leaned to take her hands,
Mammy let him. On her face, a look of concession. Of resignation. They
held each other's hands, lightly, and then they were swaying quietly in
an embrace. Mammy buried her face in his neck. She grabbed a handful
of his shirt.
For hours that night, the excitement robbed Laila of sleep. She lay in
bed and watched the horizon light up in garish shades of orange and
yellow. At some point, though, despite the exhilaration inside and the
crack of
artillery fire outside, she fell asleep.
And dreamed
They are on a ribbon of beach, sitting on a quilt. It's a chilly, overcast
day, but it's warm next to Tariq under the blanket draped over their
shoulders. She can see cars parked behind a low fence of chipped white