It's almost like magic. This only happens in the movies, Latika thinks to herself. Yet she's here, in the train station, waiting for the boy who saved her from the riots, who saved her from Maman. He protected her, and now she was coming to him.
Latika looked around. Where was he? A part of her told her that it wasn't true. But it was. She saw him become a millionaire last night. She heard his voice and talked to him. She was free from Javed. They were free.
She didn't doubt Salim. He did his job well. Too well. He was dead, that she was sure of. She pulled the yellow scarf over her head. She knew he would come here. Or did she misread it? Was he going to meet her at the place he saw her last? Her old prison?
Jamal, where are you? She thinks frantically. She wonders what she should do if he doesn't come. Should she try to find a place to stay the night? Or should she stay here and wait?
She turns and sees him. Him. The boy who promised her a house on Harbor Road. The one who she dreamed would free her one day. The one whose face she remembered better than her own.
"Kiss me." She breaths.
He does. And for the moment, she doesn't care where she is or what she's doing. This is all that matters.