She dumped the remains of her tea in the sink, picked up her purse, slipped on her shoes. This was a rebirth, a new life, so far along into her old one. During her lowest moments, in the months after Amir left, the years of infertility, and caring for her beloved Masad in his final, heartwrenching years, she never thought a day like this would come.

And yet, here it was.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Lahore

July 1, 2017

Allama Iqbal International Airport buzzed with activity. Newly disembarked passagers stretched their arms and retied their shoes upon emerging from gates. Parents secured their children in strollers. Teenagers texted furiously on their smart phones.

“I can’t believe we’re finally here,” Chandani said. “It feels like a dream.” She had slept most of the flight from London to Lahore, woke up an hour before they landed, freshened up in the airplane bathroom, fixed her hair in a tight bun. She looked like she just stepped out of a spa after over twenty hours of travel. Shan could do nothing to tame her static-filled hair or reduce the swelling under her eyes. She settled for brushing her teeth and reapplying deodorant.

They collected their baggage. The line for customs was fairly short. They declared nothing, continued on to baggage claim. The click-click of their rollerbags’ wheels traced their footsteps. Outside, locals shuffled along roped-off areas, squeezed among one another to get the first look at the parade of travelers, called out the names written on their white cards. Children ducked and chased one another under the rope.

The hot air hit them like a slap. Shan’s throat felt gritty. She brought her water bottle to her lips, sucked it down. They made their way to the curb where a taxi driver loaded their luggage into the trunk.

It appeared to be rush hour. Motorbikes thrummed between autos, buses spewed exhaust, groaned in acceleration. Passengers clung to the doors, held tight to their briefcases. Men and women walked along the road wearing business suits, abayas, jeans, salwar kameez. Street vendors hawked fried foods.

Chandani removed her camera from her bag and leaned out of the window. At every intersection she took at least a dozen photos. Click. Click. Click. She focused the lens. “I’d forgotten what this was like.”

“Forgotten what?” Shan said.

“I’d forgotten what it was like to use a camera to see the world, how a lens illuminates the beauty, and forces you to see the details you might otherwise miss in order to appreciate the nuances of that which seems ordinary.” She snapped a few more photos, looked over her images. “Such a beautiful city. This is my first time in Lahore too.”