Page 126 of The Mismatch

‘But some of what you said was true, and I’m working on it,’ she said. ‘And I’m sorry. For the things I said in my diary. I didn’t mean them.’

He didn’t say anything.

‘I guess it’s a good job I didn’t write about how much I fell for you,’ she said, laughing nervously. ‘That would have been embarrassing.’

He smiled. ‘I think I would have liked that actually.’

‘Wait, aren’t you living in Paris?’ she asked.

He gave a laugh, his breath mingling with hers, making her dizzy.

‘Barely. I could quite easily move back. Iwantto come back.’

‘Why?’ she asked, in a small voice.

‘Soraya,’ he put his forehead against hers, ‘you’re so special to me. You know that, don’t you?’

She shook her head.

‘Well, that’s my fault. I should have made it clear how important you are.’ He paused for a moment and frowned. ‘Of course, if you’re not interested, if you’ve moved on, that’s fine. Obviously it’s fine,’ he said quickly. ‘I’ll leave you alone. Although I’d like to be friends eventually, if you would.’

She smiled; couldn’t help it. Normally she was the one to ramble. She stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his.

‘I’d like to try again,’ she said finally. ‘But I know I also need to work at finding myself, whatever that means. I’d still like to take things slow.’

‘You don’t know how happy you’ve just made me,’ Magnus said, grinning.

‘I was wrong about you, you know. We’re not that different after all.’

‘I guess we were wrong about each other.’ He smiled down at her and linked his fingers with hers. She looked down at their hands together, hers small and tan, his large and white. He squeezed her fingers, and in that moment she felt safe, loved. More than that, it felt something like coming home or letting out a long-held breath.

‘By the way,’ she looked into his eyes, and for the first time said exactly what she was feeling, ‘I love you too.’

Epilogue

Brighton, 2015

It was the time of new beginnings, forgiveness, fresh starts. Ahead of Nowruz, Iranian New Year, Neda spring-cleaned the entire house. She dusted the tops of the wardrobes, flipped mattresses, and cleaned windows.

In the weeks that followed, she set to work redecorating Laleh’s bedroom, removing Hossein’s belongings from the room. Neda placed her daughter’s old things in boxes, opened the windows and let the room breathe. She painted the walls a soft pink. It was the first time she had ever painted anything. She could have found a decorator but it felt right for her to do it. She needed this. More than that, she wanted it.

Furniture had been purchased from Habitat, all white and sleek. Soraya helped her assemble the different pieces. The bedroom would no longer be stuck in the nineties. It was now inviting and neutral. Unrecognisable. When choosing a new bedspread, Neda wondered what her grandchild would like, and such thoughts gave her hope.

She spoke to Hossein every day. He seemed to be thriving in Tehran, had even agreed to go to a rehabilitation centre. It was the longest he had been sober. The future ahead of them was unknown; part of her still resented him, but at least she now understood him. She knew better than to pin too manyhopes on his recovery; for the moment she thanked Allah that things were changing, and remained patient.

She knew Soraya had gotten back together with the English boy. They did not speak openly about it, but she noticed a slight change in her daughter. She appeared lighter, happier. She was not sure if it was because of the boy, or because he was no longer a secret she was keeping from her mother. Neda knew the weight secrets bore all too well.

Neda, too, remembered Soraya’s surprise when she first discovered Laleh had stayed with her boyfriend all this time.

‘But it’s been ages,’ Soraya had marvelled. ‘And they were so young when they first met. I never imagined that they’d still be together.’

She had replied at the time that whilst he was not Muslim, he seemed like a good, caring man, and ultimately that was all that mattered. Neda had changed a lot over the past year; this was not something she would have said to her daughter openly before. She would have worried it would give Soraya ideas that she could also make a relationship work with a non-Muslim man. She still worried, but needed to let her children live their own lives. There was a lot of unlearning to be done.

Of course, Neda too was surprised that Laleh and her boyfriend had stayed together. It was not what she expected from an Englishman. She had always thought English people switched romantic partners like it was nothing. Admittedly, she had been proven wrong, in this instance at least. It was one of the few times Neda was overjoyed to be wrong.

And then the day finally arrived.

Neda wore her finest hijab; blue silk with a subtle floral pattern, bought from Liberty London ten years ago.