When my sister Asmi was still single, my mother used to make all sorts of suggestions about different men. One day, my mother got tired of her stubbornness and said, “Look at this man, he doesn’t drink and smoke, such a decent man. Why don’t you consider him?” My sister looked askance and said, “Precisely, because of that.”We all laughed so much.

Eventually, Asmi got married, but within two years she left her first husband, with whom she had a girl. Got married to an already married man. Fifteen years later, my sister has three beautiful children with Ali. They live in a wonderful house in Islamabad and serve as senior civil servants. My sister got her fairytale thuggish type husband, and we all couldn’t be happier for her.

I have always admired my sister immensely. She is an authentic and gifted woman: cooking skills at a Michelin star level, and flawless as a federal tax lawyer. A feminine icon. My sister showed me how you can find a man who is both a saint and a sinner. This does not grant other individuals any right to slut shame a woman. My sister’s racy choice and her ability to seduce a man only speak to her worthiness as a woman.

This is New York. The city of Sex and the City, and, despite my obvious religious morals, I desperately fell in love with a gangster/writer. Sameer may have yelled at me, my mother may see no hope here, and all the women who want him may wish me dead by tomorrow morning. But as Valentina used to say in her thick Sicilian accent, “the truth is the truth”. EN+MK= forever ❤️