In a city full of dark-skinned people, this wouldn’t have been difficult if her mother hadn’t insisted she make the twenty-four-hour flight in the traditional Pakistani shalwar kameez. “Jarrar will expect his bride to be properly dressed for the first meeting,” Ammi had told her, adjusting the embroidered dupatta around her shoulders. Since what Jarrar expected was no longer an issue — she hoped — Yasmine had every intention of getting rid of the costume. She stuck out like a canary among a flock of sparrows. Thank you so much, Ammi. A cluster of young women came out of a shop to her left and stopped to stare. One of them lifted the camera dangling from a strap around her neck and aimed it at Yasmine. Lowering her eyes, Yasmine hurried past. But she managed to note the girls’ outfits. Tight, low-cut jeans and skimpy knit tank tops in multiple layers that bared an embarrassing amount of flesh. The young woman who had met her at the airport hadn’t been dressed that way. She seemed to be a friendly person whom Yasmine would like to have gotten to know.
