“I’d like you to treat Yasmin kindly.” She turns to me.
What?
I don’t really understand why my mother tells me this. I think my sisters are also puzzled, because they stare at her in confusion. My mother lays her hand on my arm to emphasize the importance of her request. Her nails are beautiful; they are short but painted dark red. There is a henna tattoo on her left wrist.
“All right. I will.”
“You know, she is of a very good family. They guarded her well. I don’t want you to be rough with her!
I can’t believe she’s talking about this!
“What do you mean?”
“On your wedding night… it will be difficult for her…” My mother is getting embarrassed now and there is a thought that gets into my head. I try to put it into words but it’s hard because it’s such a delicate subject. We don’t ten
