Muneer slams his fist into a cushion. How does a father lose his daughter as though she were a pair of socks under a bed, a toothbrush left behind in a hotel? No one asks the question out loud, but Muneer knows they think it, too. When his mother rails against Saeedah—“God damn that girl to hell”—and frets about her granddaughter surrounded by unbelievers in an unbelieving country and wonders why Saeedah would not want to come home where Hanadi could be near her father until she is old enough to live with him at age seven, he hears unspoken criticism of his own actions. Everything is in God’s hands, but Muneer did not do enough to bring his daughter home.

Hanadi could be anywhere—anywhere in the States, anywhere in the world. She might be here in Jidda, hidden by her other family behind the mirrored windows of an apartment, though he doubts Aunt Faizah would be that bold.

Soon, his family’s advice descends on him like Jidda rain—always a downpour.

Bandar wants to interrogate Saeedah’s parents and her sisters until they confess to knowing where she is.

Salem offers to call the minister of the exterior. “I gave him the answers to our mathematics final in high school,” Salem says. “He owes me a favor.”

But what can the minister of the exterior do, says Lujayn. “You’re better off calling the American Embassy. It’s America’s fault a mother and daughter can disappear. Why would a Jidda girl do such a thing?”

Bandar, on thinking longer, advises Muneer to hire an American lawyer and a private investigator. A few days later, he tells Muneer to fly to the States to look for Hanadi himself.

Mama says simply, “Make your family whole.”