Parvez saw this tiny, delicate gesture and realized what was wrong, and why his reaction to these tiny longed-for miracles was now so muted. Since Shona had first come to Pakistan for her studies, he had suffered no other competition for her affections; no one else had ever come close. Her father seemed to love her, but despite living near her in London, had kept a distance that was so respectful of their privacy that it bordered on the disinterested. And as for her mother - Parvez had no time for Shona’s self-seeking, self-interested mother. She had deigned to visit them just once during the whole of Shona’s difficult, uncomfortable pregnancy, during which she had sniffed at their surroundings, criticized their home and put the fear of God in Shona about the actual birth by telling her how her maternal grandmother had bled to death. Henna had proceeded to spend the rest of her trip shopping in town, buying the Burberry raincoat that absent-minded Just Rashid had so far forgotten to get her, despite her repeated requests. No, Shona had no one apart from Parvez, and Parvez had no one apart from Shona, his Bhai Hassan notwithstanding. It was just the two of them, Shona and Parvez, Goldie and Puppy, against the world.

But suddenly, in the last six hours, the children had stopped being part of Shona and had become their own independent, crying, breathing persons; two little people that Shona would love just as much as him - in fact, more than him, as they were two, and he was only one. And they were her creation - she had made them with almost no help from him; he had simply accompanied her to the fertility clinic a few times, and masturbated into a tube. Every other visit and painful medical procedure, Shona had handled alone, while he went to work and continued building up the business. He was no longer the only man in Shona’s life - now he had competition. He was already jealous of Shona’s children.

Grateful that Shona hadn’t realized the unworthy thoughts muddling his head, Parvez squeezed himself a bit closer to Shona on her hospital bed. The baby in his arms squirmed a little, and then settled with a yawn. ‘What shall we call them?’ he asked Shona. She smiled benignly; they had discussed lots of names, some family ones, some silly ones, but had agreed to make no decisions until they were born.

’I think we should name them both after you.5

‘Parvez I and Parvez 2? Like Thing I and Thing 2 in Dr Seuss? I like that.’

‘No, I think we should call them Omar and Sharif. After their daddy with the movie-star looks,’ she said sweetly, without any hint of sarcasm.