The men embraced each other heartily as though meeting for the first time in a long time. Watched over by Jia, they were safe once again under their appointed leader. It was a day most blessed.

As they turned to leave she raised her hand. ‘Before you go, I would tell you one more thing.’ She picked up the glass and drank from it deeply. The men waited to hear what else their matriarch had to say.

‘Know that I would not hesitate to kill anyone who attempted to hurt our family and bring an end to our peace,’ she said, her voice cold and her hand steady. ‘Even if that meant someone from this room.’

Idris and Bazigh Khan were the last to leave. It had been a long day and they had not yet spoken about the day’s events or those that had preceded it. As Idris was driving his father home, Bazigh Khan pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his waistcoat pocket.

‘She will prove herself a worthy Khan,’ he read out. ‘Your uncle gave me this the night he died. It was as if he knew it was coming.’

‘Baba jaan, I wish to respectfully ask a question,’ said Idris.

‘Go ahead,’ his father said.

‘How is that you have such faith her? Pukhtuns have traditionally subjugated their women, and yet here I see your unquestioning loyalty to one. What am I missing?’

‘She is our mother now. Our people have always held their mothers in high esteem. Paradise is said to be found at their feet,’ his father replied. ‘And…Jia Khan has more Pukhtun in her bloodlines than most of these menfolk. She will do what she must to keep the family honour. Do not underestimate her. I have seen what she is capable of with my own eyes…’ Bazigh Khan stopped.

Wanting to hear more but understanding the subject required delicacy, Idris stayed quiet, hoping his father would trust him enough to tell him exactly what he had seen. They travelled in silence for some time. Then the old man spoke again.

‘Son, I know that you have wanted to make her your wife since you were young. I know that even living with Mary, you consider Jia Khan the other half of your soul. But know that you were saved when she married Elyas.’

Idris pressed his father. ‘Baba jaan? What did you see?’ he said.

‘I saw your uncle’s anguish. Sanam Khan and I were the only ones that did,’ he said. ‘It was pitch black the night he came to me with the child. It was his grandson, Jia and Elyas’s son, Ahad. I had never seen Akbar Khan that way. He was a hard man but not heartless, and what he had seen had shaken him. He handed me the child and asked me what we should do. I had no idea. I had raised you but with the help of Sanam Khan.’