My mom would be a little harder—mainly because I didn’t feel like taking her back in some ways. After years of us going it alone, the two of us, it was hard to realize that we both knew very little about each other and the ways in which we tried to fill the hole inside. Sabrena, Hala, and Rehan had all promised that even if I ditched Sunday school classes—which I intended to—they’d keep me in the loop of hangouts, movie nights, and weekend hikes.

But I wasn’t sure if Yulia would promise the same thing, or want to. It was still very quiet between the two of us. She smiled, and pressed her hand against my head in the morning, but that was it.

It would take time.

Brother Khalid was another thing. He was hardly at home. I was pretty sure that, if Yulia hadn’t told him about my outburst, he’d otherwise heard about it or been able to put together the pieces of my frustration with the ways in which my life changed—most of which could be led back to my mother, but also him, and their marriage.

At first, I didn’t care. But then I felt guilty. I thought about all the mornings he eagerly slid a plate in front of me, waited for me to take a bite while pretending he didn’t.

That, I thought I could do something about.

Monday night, Brother Khalid came home late. I was in the kitchen. I had planned so many things to say to him, but now that I was looking at him, none of them would stick in my head. I turned my gaze down to the holey tops of my Converse and shifted uncomfortably.

“Um . . . I thought you were done with work around nine.”

It wasn’t the least bit relieving that he looked just as uncomfortable. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, yes. But then I stopped by the masjid to pray Isha, and some of the brothers were there, so we got to talking.”

“Oh. That’s nice.”

“Yes.” There was a pause, and then he started, “Em . . .”

“Are you hungry?” I blurted out. “We had tacos. DIY tacos. I can warm up a tortilla for you.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Really? Don’t you have homework? I thought your mother said you had a project to pull an all-nighter for.”

“It can wait.” I bounded toward the kitchen without looking back.

It was ridiculously awkward in the small space, hemmed in by the stove and the refrigerator. I focused on laying out the sour cream and shredded cheese.