Page 73 of The Mismatch

‘What do you mean?’

‘I told you they were strict. I’m not allowed to be with boys or drink alcohol. Both of which were in the picture.’

His face crumpled. ‘So your dad did this?’ He couldn’t hide the anger he felt quick enough. ‘Because we’re together? That’s crazy.’

She didn’t say anything.

‘I don’t get it,’ he said.

‘I don’t know what to say.’

Andthiswas why they could never be a thing. Why their relationship would never work. He didn’t – couldn’t – understand her culture. How had she been so blind to this before?

‘Is it because I’m white?’ he asked.

She sighed deeply. It was a sigh of frustration, of tiredness.

‘Not really. It’s because you’re a man.’

He lifted himself off her and sat on the bed next to her. He fixed his gaze on his hands. The distance and silence between them stretched.

Soraya’s mind whirled from thought to thought. She hated silences; they allowed her mind to run wild, fleeting ideas and troubling memories all vying for her attention. It was even worse when she was with someone, like now, because she was also wondering what they were thinking.

‘Say something,’ she finally said.

‘What happened after he hit you?’

‘He threw things around, including my mum.’ She spoke so quietly she wasn’t sure Magnus could hear her. ‘He hit me when I tried to defend myself, and then denied it all to Parvin.’ Her breathing was unsteady and she had to stop talking.

‘Didn’t anyone try and help you? Your brother or sister?’

‘Amir wasn’t in. My dad’s convinced Amir would have been on his side. I doubt it, he’s not a monster, but he doesn’t know anything happened, which is probably for the best. Parvin is too much of a goody-goody to defend us. I’m not talking to her at the moment.’ Soraya looked away, wiping a stray tear. ‘It’s fine, it doesn’t matter.’

‘It’sfine? Soraya, how is any of this fine? This is just … it’s mad.’ Magnus grabbed her face between his hands and forced her to look at him. ‘None of this is fine.’

Tears began to roll down her cheeks. She shook him off.

‘Talking about it won’t make it better.’

Magnus made a frustrated sound, hands balled into fists. ‘I know he’s your dad but I just want to …’ The veins in his arm protruded.

He surprised her by pulling her into a tight hug. ‘Don’t go back there,’ he whispered into her hair. ‘You don’t deserve to be treated like this.’

‘It’s not that simple. They’re all I have.’

‘They’re abusive, Soraya, you can’t go back there. Has he hit you before?’ He looked at her carefully.

‘No … well, not like that. He’s always had a temper. The only similar time was when I was fifteen, and there was this park near my school that we all went to. I was there with friends and briefly spoke to a boy, and my parents found out – one of their friends drove by and saw me – so they dragged me home. My dad spat on me and hit my leg, said he’d kill me if I did anything like that again, and I just remember being so shocked.’ Soraya choked on the last word, and covered her mouth with her hand.

‘This is so fucked up,’ Magnus whispered.

His words were only semi-comforting. He was missing the point, focusing on her dad’s rage as though it was a singular problem, not an issue a lot of British Muslim girls faced to some degree. It wasn’t Hossein Nazari that was crazy, it was the attitude of many men in her culture, the way they saw their daughters as pets to be controlled.

‘I don’t know what to do,’ Soraya said, her mouth pressed against his chest. He didn’t loosen his hold, and she was glad. ‘I like being with you, but it’s so complicated. My brain is just … I feel guilty all the time when we’re with each other. I feel like I’m already going to hell. And then there’s this pressure from my family, and I’m so scared I’m going to get caught again.’ While she spoke Magnus continued to hold her, stroking her back gently.

‘Why hell?’ he asked quietly. She imagined the frown forming on his face, uncomprehending yet again. ‘You’re a good person, Soraya.’

She rolled her eyes.