Page 69 of The Mismatch

The cover showed a woman and man in an embrace, her head thrown back in some kind of ecstasy, the cut of her dress exposing her décolletage. The cover alluded to scandal and drama, key ingredients of Neda’s favourite romances.

‘It’s really good, Neda, I would recommend! Unlike anything I’ve read before … It made me realise how tame the books I had been reading were.’

‘How could I bring this home to Hossein? He’d laugh at me!’ Despite her words, she put the book in her bag quickly.

‘When can I meet this mysterious husband of yours anyway?’

Neda hesitated. She hadn’t introduced them for a reason. Hossein was growing more and more irritated by the lack of decent job prospects for him. He had approached football clubs to help with coaching, but no one wanted him – not even for small children – and he’d offered to teach for free. In coming to England his dreams had been shattered, made harder to achieve, rather than what he’d believed would happen, that he would be introduced to a world of new possibilities.

‘He works long hours,’ Neda lied seamlessly. ‘I barely see him myself.’ This part, at least, was true.

**

Six months into her new life in Liverpool and Neda was deep into her Masters, the intensity of her work schedule catching up with her. During this time, Hossein gave up trying to find a job related to his field. Instead he worked in a restaurant during the week and at a taxi firm on the weekends. It was ‘cash in hand’, and though Neda didn’t quite know what that meant, he seemed to bring home wads of money.

One Sunday morning, whilst he was asleep after doing a late shift, she cleaned up after him. He had told her the money was good during night shifts, as English people coming home late didn’t question the high fares due to their intoxicated state. They also often tipped generously. His job as a taxi driver meant Neda was alone most evenings on the weekend, a fact she grew to accept. Mena would often go to discos and clubs, something Neda disapproved of.

Alcohol caused people to make mistakes, ruined lives. She couldn’t understand why, despite this, people continued drinking. She knew first-hand from her dad’s bad moods the morning after that not only did it affect the drinker, but also those around them.

Hossein had left his trousers on the floor, as though he had literally stepped out of them and gotten into bed. His socks were abandoned near the door, and on the kitchen table was a greasy takeaway box. When she went to pick up his trousers, seeing that there were mud stains on the legs, she decided to put them to soak in the bath. His clothes always smelt heavy with aftershave, something he hadn’t really worn in Tehran. She removed the belt from the loopholes and fingered inside the pockets to remove loose change. She checked his back pockets and felt something square and soft. She pulled it out.

A condom packet.

She sat on the wooden chair in the section of the studio flat they liked to call the kitchen. Her mind whirled, wondering what excuses, explanations there could be.

The room was deafeningly quiet. Her mind shook, her breathing almost stilled. She put the packet back in his pocket and returned the belt to the loops. She pocketed the change for herself, put the trousers in their original place on the floor, and left the flat.

She used the money to buy herself a coffee and a vegetarian fry-up from their local cafe. The smell of non-halal sausages taunted her. The waitress was chatty, but Neda was in no mood for conversation. She stayed there for an hour, staringinto space in between bites of food she couldn’t taste. She felt tired, drained of any joy she had had.

When she returned home Hossein was awake. His smile still, annoyingly, dazzled her. He was so beautiful, and perhaps that was the problem. Perhaps she should have married an ugly man, and then he might not have cheated on her.

‘Where did you go? I missed you.’ He gave her a suggestive look and pulled her into a hug. His breath was minty fresh, and his hand lingered on her bottom.

She wiggled out of his grasp, unpinned her hijab and folded it neatly into a square.

‘How was work?’ she asked.

‘Good! Tiring, but you know I’d do anything for you.’ Again, a suggestive look. Ordinarily, she would have been lulled both by a sense of obligation and by appreciation for this man who worked hard so she could follow her dreams. But something was off. Something had always been off. Hadn’t she always known?

She said nothing. Neda believed in obtaining proper evidence before drawing conclusions. This was no different from the experiments she conducted in the lab. She would never conclude something without solid evidence, without the proper tests and assessing all the variables. So, she decided to do just that.

She experimented on her husband.

CHAPTER 33

Soraya

London, 2014

Some people are radiators, and others are drains. Hossein Nazari was a drain. He sucked the life out of people. When he lashed out, those around him became shells of themselves. And Soraya was now empty. She hadn’t spoken to her dad. Or Parvin. But her mum sent daily WhatsApp messages asking how she was, followed by a plethora of emojis ranging from pink flowers to the kiss face. It pained Soraya to be pitied by her mum. But her mum was also stuck with him, had endured a lifetime of him.

She thought back to when she was a child and her mum described the first time her own husband had hit her.

It was a hard smack across the face during an argument; before that he had only broken things when emotions ran high. Her mum was so shocked she was rendered speechless, she’d told Soraya. He bought her flowers the next day, and her favourite chocolates, blaming his addiction for his actions.

Soraya had researched the link between drug addiction and violence, and didn’t know whether it was a good enough excuse. Hadn’t he used it often enough by now?

‘Why won’t she leave him?’ Soraya asked herself, gripping her hair hard and pulling. It was the dead of night. Oliver was out in Soho, and she had avoided Magnus by saying she was back in Brighton. She hadn’t told him what had happened there.