The first light of the second day of Eid filtered through Zaid’s window, but it failed to bring the warmth of the previous morning. Instead of the sounds of celebration, he was pulled from the edges of sleep by a low, tense murmur that seeped through his bedroom door. He lay perfectly still, the sheets tangled around him, and listened. The argument was in the kitchen, a fierce, hushed war waged between the two most important women in his life.
“I will not allow it!” His mother’s voice was a sharp, strained whisper, yet it carried the force of a shout. “He cannot just waltz back in after a decade and demand a day! On Eid! Why now? What game is he playing?”
His grandmother’s reply was a steady, calming counterpoint, a stream trying to wear down a rock. “Listen my dear , and lower your voi
