NEHA
“I can’t believe you’ve talked me into this,” I groaned.
I dumped the bag on the airport floor, rubbing the sore shoulder.
So, here I was after all, in Pakistan ready to face my family. It felt so odd, and every minute I had to suck in sharp breaths to stay calm. The nerves were all over the place.
Ilyas stepped by me. “Ah, I almost forgot how Pakistan was. It has changed a lot.”
I turned my head to examine him, weighing his words in my head. “What does that mean? Have you been to Pakistan?”
People gave us weird looks as they walked past us. Ilyas gave them even weirder than a small girl moved a little back. Guess he didn’t like men observing his wife.
“My Dad is a Pakistani. I have lived ten years of my life here,” he confessed.
Awe struck, I gasped. “WHAT? I didn’t know
