To Jalil and his spouses, I was a pokeroot. A mugwort. You as well. What's more, you weren't conceived yet."
"What's a mugwort?" Mariam inquired.
"A weed," Nana said. "Something you tear out and hurl aside."
Mariam scowled inside. Jalil didn't regard her as a weed. He never had. Be that as it may, Mariam figured it astute to smother this challenge.
"Dissimilar to weeds, I must be replanted given sustenance and water. Because of you. That was the arrangement Jalil made with his family.
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