Page 96 of If I Loved You Less
“I want to apologize for my comment at the picnic,” I say, hoping she can see how sincere I am. “I – I don’t know what got into me. It was terribly rude.”
Shanzay shrugs. “It’s okay, really…”
“No, it wasn’t,” I say, reaching out to take her hand. “You are a dear friend, and I shouldn’t have been so mean.”
“Thank you for the apology.” Shanzay squeezes my hand, smiling. “You can be a bit bitchy sometimes, you know that, right?”
She laughs, and I laugh, too, covering my face with a hand.
“Yes, I know. I’m sorry again.”
“Don’t worry about it. Besides, I think you were goaded on a bit by Rizwan.”
“Yes, a bit,” I admit, gauging her reaction. But she does not seem too upset by this.Hm.She opens the boxes of food, inhaling the smell.
“Ooh, yummy,” she says, going to the kitchen to get us plates and forks.
“Are you ... alright?” I ask her, inspecting her carefully as she comes back. She hands me a plate, then starts piling food onto her own.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” she asks, sitting down. I sit down beside her.
“About Rizwan, I mean,” I say gently.
“Oh.” She shrugs. “Well, he doesn't really know me, so it’s alright if he finds me boring.”
“But I thought…” I trail off, confused. “You don’t ... like him?”
“He’s perfectly okay, I guess,” she says, eating her basil fried rice. “Why? Doyoulike him again? I thought you were over all that.”
“Iam,” I say, dumbfounded. “But I thought ... well, not too long ago, you saidyouhad feelings for him.”
Shanzay sets her fork down, confused. “Me?” She laughs, shaking her head. “What gave you that idea?”
“You – You said! After the wedding,” I say, trying to refresh her memory. “The service he rendered you? His kindness?”
Shanzay does not recall what I speak of. I can see her trying very hard to remember the conversation we had.
“After you got in the car accident? And he brought you to my house?” I prompt.
Realization dawns on her. “Ooh, you thought—” She laughs. “No, oh, how silly of us! No, I didn’t mean Rizwan, and I can’t believe you thought it was him I spoke of! Of course, I was speaking of Fawad.”
Fawad? Dread grips me. Surely she cannot mean that.
Fawad is?—
“B—But the service Rizwan rendered you?” I sputter, feeling unaligned. “You said…”
“No, I meant the service Fawad rendered me, at the wedding?” Now it is her turn to speak slowly, so that I remember. “He was so kind to me, in finding me a seat, when Emad and his dreadful fiancée were laughing at me? I know we said we wouldn’t speak of it, but there it is. I like Fawad!”
No. My heart drops. She giggles.
“Yes, but—” I begin, but I do not know where I am going. But what? “Do you – Do you believe he feels the same?” I ask, clearing my throat. She nods excitedly.
“I think it’ll take some time to truly grow,” she says, “but I see potential there.”
“Oh.” I blink, a lump growing in my throat. I do not cry, but the grief lingers, clawing at my eyes, pulling at my heart.
Maybe Fawad was right: I do go on about Shanzay being such a dear friend, yet my behavior has suggested otherwise.
