The night had started off beautifully.
Dinner had been at my mother’s choice of restaurant—an authentic Persian place she had been dying to try. But the experience was underwhelming.
The food lacked seasoning, likely adjusted for Western palates, making it taste bland and uninspiring.
“Hani, can you pass me the salt?” my sister asked, reaching across the table in an attempt to salvage her meal.
I handed it to her as Muk let out an irritated sigh. “This is such a waste of money.”
My mother and sisters nodded in agreement, their expressions filled with disappointment.
“This is the worst food I’ve ever spent my money on,” Liyana grumbled, pushing her plate away.
I chuckled at her frustration, but my attention kept drifting toward Muk.
His phone had been strangely silent during dinner.
