“My cousin Sara, she . . .” The young woman paused and stared up at the sky. “Her boyfriend beat her to death. She was twenty-eight years old.”

“Oh, my dear, I didn’t realize,” said Huda. “I’m so sorry.”

She’d always imagined life outside Iraq to be one bright, shiny day after another, where girls like Ally zipped about in cute convertibles, joined their friends for cupcakes as big as a child’s head, then went for a romantic dinner with a handsome man like Tom. At times, she envied Ally’s easy life, her freedom, the luck that saw her born in a country free from strife. But of course, fate didn’t pause for borders, or wealth, or age.

“Nights like tonight,” said Ally, “I can feel all the miles between me and my family.”

She stared up at the moon as if she were searching its craters and dark seas for a different ending. Guilt ballooned beneath Huda’s ribs. She wished, for what seemed like the thousandth time, that the two of them could be free to speak their minds. She wondered if Ally would ever consider helping Khalid and Hanan, hiding them in an embassy Land Cruiser and spiriting them out of the country. Even as she thought it, she knew she’d be a fool to ask. A reckless fool.

Just like she’d told Rania, the mukhabarat were watching her. No doubt her phone and home were bugged. Ally didn’t have decades of practice in biting her tongue. One slip, one whisper, and it would all be over. Huda rose from the bench and squeezed in on the swing. Another peal of laughter hurdled the fence. Ally flinched at the sound. Huda felt grief pulse through the young woman’s body, like it did through her own.

* * *

Bleary-eyed, Huda and Ally shuffled out the front door and into the morning sunlight.

“Careful,” called Abdul Amir. He put down the long-handled pruners he’d been using to trim a tree in the front yard. “The wasps are agitated this morning.”

No wonder, thought Huda, eyeing the papery hive dangling from a branch just beyond their wall. The insects would have been disturbed by the al-Ranis’ all-night party, like the rest of the neighborhood. Not that anyone could sleep soundly, thanks to the president’s amnesty.

“How are you feeling this morning, Abdul Amir?” said Ally. “Is your headache gone?”

“It’s okay.” Abdul Amir avoided her eyes and peeled off his garden gloves. “You want me to take you home?”

Huda touched Ally’s elbow.

“Promise me, you’ll come straight back if Ghassan is not there.”

“I will, thank you. Tom should be home in a few hours too.” Ally smiled, but Huda detected a glimmer of unease in her eyes.

“If he is late, you must call me,” she said. “I’ll be here all day, listening for the phone.”