A Thousand Splendid Suns

"I don't know, my love."
When was he coming back? Would Baba jan bring a present with him
when he returned?
She did the prayers with Zalmai. Twenty-one
Bismallah-e-rahman-erahims-one for each knuckle of seven fingers. She
watched him cup his hands before his face and blow into them, then
place the back of both hands on his forehead and make a casting-away
motion, whispering, Babaloo, be gone, do not come to Zalmai, he has no
business with you. Babaloo, be gone. Then, to finish off, they said
Ailah-u-akbar three times. And later, much later that night, Laila was
startled by a muted voice: Did Babajan leave because of me? Because of
what I said, about you and the man downstairs?
She leaned over him, meaning to reassure, meaning to say It had
nothing to do with you, Zalmai. No. Nothing is your fault. But he was
asleep, his small chest rising and sinking.
* * *
When Laila "went to bed, her mind was muffled up, clouded, incapable
of sustained rational thought. But when she woke up, to the muezzin's
call for morning prayer, much of the dullness had lifted.
She sat up and watched Zalmai sleep for a while, the ball of his fist
under his chin. Laila pictured Mariam sneaking into the room in the
middle of the night as she and Zalmai had slept, watching them, making
plans in her head.