Law or Love

I was twenty-one and head-over-heels in love, and the world seemed exciting and new. Our whirlwind romance was stifled by the limitations of Pakistani society, but I had become adept at sneaking out of wherever I was meant to be. Juni would pick me up from friends’ houses or from work in his navy Toyota saloon, his Wayfarers reflecting the sun, his white t-shirt making his skin glow.

The only dates possible in Karachi involved eating out – the most innocent thing you could do as an unmarried couple – and even then we’d get questioning looks. Food featured heavily on our dates for more than just the convenience of it. Whether it was a kebab roll by Boat Basin, an indulgent buffet lunch at Al-Bustan in the Sheraton or pistachio kulfi at Spinzer’s, Juni loved eating, and he was on first-name terms with street-food stall owners and was fussed over by staff at hotel restaurants. I gained a stone within weeks of meeting him; I was ravenous with love.