Page 270 - A Woman Is No Man

“That’s not true. My destiny is in my hands. Men make these sorts of
choices all the time. Now I’m going to as well.”
Fareeda shook her head, blinking back tears. Deya had expected her to

protest, to wail and argue and beg and refuse. But to her surprise, Fareeda
did nothing of the sort.
“She wants to see you, you know,” Deya whispered. “She’s sorry, and
she wants to come back home. But she’s afraid . . . she’s afraid you haven’t
changed.”
Fareeda looked away, wiping tears from her eyes. “Tell her I’ve
changed, daughter. Tell her I’m sorry.”

Deya walks between the library bookshelves now. They are thick and tall,

each one twice as wide as her. She thinks about the stories stacked across
the shelves, leaning against one another like burdened bodies, supporting
the worlds within each other. There must be hundreds of them, thousands
even. Maybe her story is in here somewhere. Maybe she will finally find it.
She runs her fingers along the hardcover spines, inhales the smell of old
paper, searching. But then it hits her, like falling into water.

I can tell my own story now, she thinks. And then she does.