My mother sat demurely next to me in a dark jilbab and a colorful shaylah covering her head. She was a proper Muslim woman. Unlike me.I felt the tears...running down my eyes as I shamefully remembered how amazing being with Lucy had been. Why couldn't I have just died? It would have been so much easier than having to live with this crushing guilt and the hatred burning in my father's eyes."That girl was here," my father barked in Arabic. "That whorish girl you shamed yourself with!" I am sorry,. “I’m Beth,” Phil’s mother replied. “You have a wonderful daughter. I will admit that I’ve grown to love her very much.”“Thank you for taking care of her,” Michael said sincerely. “She’s told me this afternoon about her life before meeting you. You’ve saved her life, Beth. I don’t say that lightly. She would have been alive but she wouldn’t have been happy. Hannah was the unhappiest woman I’ve ever met. She wasn’t always like that – or maybe she was. I thought she was just in an unhappy marriage. More

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