“Why, did you do sports back home?” Liam interferes with curiosity. Perhaps some information leaks about her again.
“It happened,” she shrugs, “we had a gym at home, although Nasirah was never happy when I used it.” Liam and I exchange glances. A gym at home. Jolly good. “My brothers were always hanging out there, of course, in their free time, but a woman doesn’t need that sort of thing, as they used to say over there. According to Nasirah, no man with good taste would marry a cutting board. The ideal wife material,” she says, drawing quotation marks in the air, “is a woman with round body parts who embodies fertility, not someone with the body of a sportswoman. She used to scold me for it, whenever she found that I spent too much time training. She said it was a pointless activity, and
