Chapter Twenty-Seven
I promised to be good, but just six hours after going to bed, I whisper, “Zahir, wake up.”
“What is going on?” he asks, glancing at the clock which reads 4:00 AM.
“We have to go to the twins' room,” I say, glad that he put on a full set of pajamas before giving me a chaste kiss good night.
“Are they okay?” he asks, his voice beginning to sound alarmed.
“No, they need you over there,” I answer, tugging on his hand.
Zahir enters our suite for the first time, thinking something’s wrong…and stops short when he sees the twins at a candle-lit table with a breakfast of fresh fruit, breads, cheese, and oatmeal already set out along with halal meats, fattoush—a kind of salad made with vegetables and pita bread—and fava beans, which, despite the Hannibal Lecter association
