The Road Between Hearts: A Love Story?

Hello, Reader!
A warm welcome to you from Leslie Powell Ahmadi: a Black American Christian woman who met and married a man from Iran who was raised in a Muslim family.

I met Mahmoud at The Ohio State University, married him in 1988, and four years later relocated to Iran to start a new life with him. It was not an easy decision. But ultimately, Mahmoud, our two young children, and I lived in the spectacular historic city of Isfahan from 1992 – 1996. And a lot happened during those four years.

It’s all captured in a memoir I’ve written called The Road Between Hearts: A Memoir of a Black American Woman Discovering Iran—scheduled to be released on September 30, 2025! Please mark your calendars for the virtual launch day celebration on the same date (September 30), at 7 p.m.! Details—including a full reveal of the book cover below—will be included in next month’s (September’s) blogpost!

The Road Between Hearts: A Love Story?

Many of you know that The Road Between Hearts is the story of my intercultural, interracial, and interfaith journey as a Black American Christian woman living in post-revolutionary Iran (1992-1996).

But once you see the cover (to be fully revealed next month!), some of you might also wonder, "And is it also a love story?"

Good question!

Rather than answer with an efficient (but boring) "yes" or "no," I will attempt to answer your question with a (true) story:

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When I was twelve, Aunt Dorothy, my great aunt by marriage on my father's side, entered my life with her occasional visits to our Dayton home all the way from Virginia. She was an elegant woman in her late sixties, was long and willowy like a swan, and she had delicate features and jet-black hair combed into the short, sleek waves of her generation. A serious woman, she knew a thing or two about life and had her three grand nieces' best interests at heart. But the ways in which she expressed her care and concerns could scare me and my two sisters half to death!

I still remember the day Aunt Dorothy and I were sitting alone together in the family "playroom." I was tinkering at the piano, and she appeared to be in even deeper thought than usual. But the moment I stopped hammering out one of my tunes, she interrupted the silence and lowered the boom:

"Leslie," she said, her black eyes gleaming, "don't ever tell a man that you love him."
(Don't ever what?) Why she said it just then, I had no clue.

"Okay, Aunt Dorothy," was my polite but dispassionate reply. I turned my attention back to the piano keys. But Aunt Dorothy would have none of that.

"Leslie, DID YOU HEAR ME? Don't ever tell a man that you love him! Because once you do, it's over!" 

"Okay, Aunt Dorothy ... thank you so much; I hear you!" And I thought I really did. Still, I just didn't know what to do with the information at that moment.

Now, fast forward twelve years, when I was a senior in college. I had fallen in love with a man whom my heart embraced as my first "true love," and in the magic of our first kiss, I forgot the advice of my Great Aunt Dorothy. So, after that kiss, I uttered the catastrophic three words (“I love you”) that she had strictly warned me not to.

Not one month after I had confessed my love, we were no longer together. He had let me go gently, but my heart was ripped. And I blamed myself for forgetting to censor those “three little words” in a moment of passion.

Now, fast forward six years after that, when I finally met another person I truly connected with--a man who made my heart sing. And that man was Mahmoud. 

For a second pivotal time in my life, I faced the question: To tell or not to tell the man I loved that I loved him? I didn't know how to play it coy--but did I want to risk blowing things by repeating history and confessing those three little words again? For me, the answer was a categorical NO; I was resolved not to make that mistake again. 

And yet, therein lay my dilemma: How could I tell him--and at the same time, how could I not tell him? To my mind, in either case I’d risk losing him.

The day finally came when I could std the tension no longer. I wanted to let him know how I felt, but an imaginary, miniature Aunt Dorothy--mounted on my shoulder with her long legs crossed--kept frowning at me. Still, in a quiet moment, I decided to speak anyway:

"Mahmoud?"

"Yes, Baby?"

It was sink or swim. It was now or never.

"I think ... I think ...  I love you a little bit!"
There, I had said it ... but then, exactly what had I just said? 
Half wincing, I glanced over at him. He looked ... unimpressed.

"Mahmoud?" I said, still waiting for him to say something at least. He finally did.

"'I think I love you a little bit’?” he echoed the phrase back to me.  “I mean, what kind of compliment is that?" I had never seen Mahmoud look so indignant.

I felt the blood drain from my face, and I turned my thoughts to Aunt Dorothy again. Without totally disregarding myself, I had tried my best to take her advice--didn't that count for something? But all I could hear was Aunt Dorothy's tongue clucking and all I could see was her shaking her head, (as if to say, "Girl, you still got a lot to learn!")

But fortunately for me, this story has a happy ending. Once I told Mahmoud why I told him what I had told him, and that translated it meant “I love you with all my heart,” Mahmoud understood everything. Besides, he had grown up in a culture where older members in a family like Aunt Dorothy were supposed to be listened to--even if privately you disagreed with them.

Did I disagree with Aunt Dorothy that one should "never tell a man that you love him"? Not necessarily: I'd already learned firsthand what those "three little words" could do to ambush a love life--so at the very least, perhaps discretion was called for when using them. But I would be remiss not to advise you to think twice before saying "I think I love you a little bit," to your Special Someone.

But I digress! To return to the original question, let me ask again: Is The Road Between Hearts also a love story? Well, if you ask me, the answer is Yes. In my eyes, it's a love story of the goofiest, loveliest, zaniest, cheesiest, most down-to-earth, and most “love-you-a-little-bit-with-all-my-heart” kind!

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If this blogpost has piqued your interest,

1. Keep your eyes open for pre-order information re: The Road Between Hearts (I will let you know in my next blogpost, when I will also reveal the cover!) and
2. Mark your calendar for the virtual launch party on TUESDAY, September 30, at 7 p.m.!

 
Kheilee mamnoon! (THANK YOU!!!)