A Thousand Splendid Suns

a while, wait for things to calm down-"
"That's not possible," Mariam said patiently, like a parent to a
well-meaning but misguided child.
"We'll take care of each other," Laila said, choking on the words, her
eyes wet with tears. "Like you said. No. I'll take care of you for a
change."
"Oh, Laila jo."
Laila went on a stammering rant. She bargained. She promised. She
would do all the cleaning, she said, and all the cooking. "You won't have
to do a thing. Ever again. You rest, sleep in, plant a garden. Whatever
you want, you ask and I'll get it for you. Don't do this, Mariam. Don't
leave me. Don't break Aziza's heart."
"They chop off hands for stealing bread," Mariam said "What do you
think they'll do when they find a dead husband and two missing wives?"
"No one will know," Laila breathed. "No one will find us."
"They will. Sooner or later. They're bloodhounds." Mariam's voice was
low, cautioning; it made Laila's promises sound fantastical, trumped-up,
foolish.
"Mariam, please-"
"When they do, they'll find you as guilty as me. Tariq too. I won't have
the two of you living on the run, like fugitives. What will happen to your
children if you're caught?"