A Thousand Splendid Suns

But it rankles Laila, what Tariq is saying. She pushes his head roughly
off her chest.
"Not so bad? People dying? Women, children, old people? Homes
destroyed again? Not so bad?"
"Shh. You'll wake the children."
"How can you say that, Tariq?" she snaps. "After the so-called blunder
in Karam? A hundred innocent people! You saw the bodies for yourself!"
"No," Tariq says. He props himself up on his elbow, looks down at Laila.
"You misunderstand. What I meant was-"
"You wouldn't know," Laila says. She is aware that her voice is rising,
that they are having their first fight as husband and wife. "You left when
the Mujahideen began fighting, remember? I'm the one who stayed
behind. Me. I know war. I lost my parents to war. My parents, Tariq. And
now to hear you say that war is not so bad?"
"I'm sorry, Laila. I'm sorry." He cups her face in his hands. "You're
right. I'm sorry. Forgive me. What I meant was
that maybe there will be hope at the other end of this war, that maybe
for the first time in a long time-"
"I don't want to talk about this anymore," Laila says, surprised at how
she has lashed out at him. It's unfair, she knows, what she said to
him-hadn't war taken his parents too?-and whatever flared in her is
softening already. Tariq continues to speak gently, and, when he pulls