Huda rolled onto her side and checked the clock on the bedside. She wondered, Was Khalid asleep? Or was he huddled under his faded Star Wars sheets, shining his flashlight on a dog-eared copy of Harry Potter? The boy wanted nothing more than to enroll in the Hogwarts Academy. Pity he did not show the same enthusiasm for study in real life.

Huda’s ears pricked up at the familiar rattle of Abdul Amir’s Corolla station wagon turning into their street. She swung her feet over the side of the bed and into a pair of fluffy pink slippers. A Mother’s Day gift from Khalid three years ago, they were worn at the heels. In the hallway, she paused and stuck her head into his bedroom. Khalid was curled up like a snail. She continued to the front door, unlocked the dead bolts, and released the chain.

Outside, dry leaves whispered in the darkness. Abdul Amir’s voice boomed from the far side of the gate.

“What the hell? Have you locked me out of my own home, woman?”

“The lock was broken.” As Huda pried open the gate, she could smell the burnt molasses of nargilah smoke embedded in her husband’s hair and clothes. “I had to replace it.”

“How on earth did it break?” Abdul Amir waved his hands about like an angry prophet scolding his flock. “Do I need to punish Khalid again?”

“Please, my dear, be quiet.” Huda peeked along the potholed street. Tall walls stretched in both directions, draped in flowering bougainvillea or fragrant jasmine. All were topped with metal spikes or shards of broken glass. “I’ll explain everything—in the backyard.”

Abdul Amir stiffened.

“The backyard?” he whispered. His hands were still raised, but now he looked less a righteous prophet and more like the victim of a stickup.

“That would be best,” Huda murmured nervously.

Like his wife before him, Abdul Amir scanned the street. The wind groaned, and grains of pale desert sand scratched against their cheeks.

* * *

A razor-thin moon hovered high over Huda’s backyard. The flames of al-Dora still spiked the horizon, but the wind had begun to turn. Huda’s nose wrinkled at the smell of burning gas. Abdul Amir stood on his toes and peered over the neighbor’s fence. No lamp glowed in their window. Their own house was dark and quiet too. Still, it was safer not to talk indoors—walls have ears, and so do teenage sons.

Abdul Amir and Huda huddled close.

“What did you tell them?” he whispered.

“There was nothing to tell,” said Huda. “I barely know the woman. If she stops by the office, we chat about the weather, small talk, that’s all. I mean, why would I go asking for trouble?”