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Six Years Ago

When loud laughter rang out for the third time in the quiet study zone of Robarts Library at the University of Toronto, that was the last straw: Dina Haq, Arshad Mehmood, and Luqman “Lucky” Latif were politely but firmly banished to the lower levels of the famous brutalist building.

It was near midnight, during finals season in early spring, which explained the air of barely suppressed tension around them. Yet despite the lateness of the hour and the fact that the trio had an exam the next day worth 100 percent of their final mark, a strange euphoria had overtaken the third-year law students and fast friends.

Or rather, two of them. For the first time in his life, Arshad felt like the odd man out. Which was unacceptable.

As soon as they settled at a table on one of the lower floors of the library where talking was tolerated, he observed Lucky scribble something on a bright-pink Post-it Note and stick it to Dina’s laptop screen when she turned around to grab her water bottle from her bag. When she turned back and read the message, her face glowed. Arshad frowned, reading over her shoulder: You’re a Star! Inwardly, he rolled his eyes. Another inside joke. Another example of Lucky and Dina elbowing him out.

He pretended to concentrate on his notes, but he was really studying Dina and Lucky. There was a vibe between them tonight, one that must have grown while he had been distracted by interviews and class and networking. How had he not noticed their burgeoning relationship? There were whispers, jokes, even lingering touches when Dina passed Lucky a pen or Lucky offered Dina a stick of gum. He noticed it all now with a rising sense of alarm.

Arshad had been the one to introduce Lucky to Dina when they had started at U of T law school three years ago, full of nerves and bravado. Each of them had made it into one of the top law schools in Canada, regardless of family connections, wealth, and background, and they were all eager to prove themselves.

Except the differences between the students had become immediately apparent. Arshad, like Lucky, had grown up in a diverse working-class suburb of the GTA. Unlike many of his classmates, he had attended public schools, not private, and played basketball in local community centers, not expensive gyms, and when his family took vacations, they were of the road trip variety, or infrequent trips back home to visit family in India. Lucky’s experience had been even worse, as his family’s financial situation skirted between survival and disaster, the result of his father’s never-ending search for his “big break.”

Over the course of the first few weeks of law school, a tiny kernel of jealousy and resentment had taken root. He wanted what the rest of his cohort seemed to take for granted: wealth, opportunity, power. One day, he would have the same, and more, he promised himself. He resolved to spend the next few years making the sort of contacts that would help him realize all his dreams.

In contrast, Lucky never seemed to suffer from the same insecurities. He cracked jokes and made friends everywhere he went, heedless or perhaps simply uncaring of the wide gulf that separated his life circumstances from the privilege and status around him. Things always seemed to come easy for Lucky Latif.

When Arshad met Dina during orientation week, he knew right away she was different. Possessed of a natural self-confidence combined with a sweet shyness, she easily navigated the murky social and political waters of the student body as if born to this world, despite the hijab she wore and her identity as a second-generation South Asian immigrant. Light Google stalking enlightened him as to the reason why: Dina Haq came from money. She was the eldest daughter of Azeez Haq, who had founded a successful family law practice in the west end of the city and who was known for the many substantial checks he wrote to charitable organizations within the Toronto Muslim community. Arshad had scrolled through dozens of pictures of a smiling Azeez Haq and his philanthropist wife, Nasrin Haq, standing beside politicians and community leaders at galas and fundraisers. Dina and her younger sister, Hania, appeared in a few of the pictures, usually in the background.

For the next year, he launched a campaign to become Dina’s best friend. He offered her his notes—immaculate and color coordinated, of course, because he knew she would appreciate that. He brought her favorite snacks to class and picked up her favorite flavor of bubble tea. He even introduced her to Lucky, who was always good for a few laughs and who never seemed to make women uncomfortable, with his calm, laid-back presence. It had worked, and soon Dina gravitated toward him at every gathering, or looked for him when she entered their favorite library. He knew his plan was working when she started to save a seat for him and Lucky in class.

By the end of first year, Arshad was pleased with the results of his campaign. He had earned Dina’s favor and trust and had also carefully selected the rest of their social circle—those most likely to be useful in the future. He kept Lucky around because his friend knew too much to be let out of his sight.

The one thing he hadn’t counted on was Dina and Lucky developing feelings for each other. Now he watched them flirt with a rising sense of panic; didn’t Lucky know that Arshad and Dina were meant to be together? Sure, Lucky was kind, honest, even-keeled, and conventionally attractive, with his soulful eyes, curly brown hair, and ready smile. But Dina Haq needed someone different, someone like Arshad, who was always three steps ahead of everyone else. Poor, sweet Lucky simply wouldn’t be able to keep up.

Arshad had to do something to stop this budding romance before it progressed.

He watched as Dina wrote something on a Post-it Note, smiling to herself. She stuck the note on the back of Lucky’s hand, and Arshad’s lips tightened. This wasn’t how the story was supposed to go. Dina was endgame. Sure, he had dated prodigiously in university—wasn’t that what university days were for?—but watching Dina and Lucky together, the happiness on both their faces, made darker, needier feelings rise within him.

“It’s hard to believe that after this last exam, we’ll be done. Did you decide which job offer you want to accept, Arshad?” Dina asked, as if realizing she and Lucky were excluding the third member of their trio. She had been raised to be a polite desi girl, after all.

“Whatever makes me the most money,” Arshad said, giving her the smile that usually got him phone numbers and invitations back to apartments, and which had no effect on Dina.

Lucky laughed. “It’s PJ or bust for Arshad,” he said.

Dina wrinkled her nose. “I mean, sure, but flying business class is pretty great too.” Lucky threw a wadded-up Post-it at her, and she laughed. “What about you?” she asked Lucky.

For the first time all night, a look of worry passed across his face, but Lucky recovered quickly. If Arshad hadn’t known his friend since high school, he might not have noticed. Something was bothering Lucky. Interesting.

“I plan to work corporate until I pay off my loans, then set up my own shop and help people,” Lucky said.

Arshad resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Lucky had always been an idealist, yet another reason he didn’t belong with Dina. Haq Law was a place for sharks, like him. Lucky would never fit in with her family. Arshad, on the other hand, knew that with her family connections and his unquenchable ambition, there was no limit to what he could accomplish.

“In any case, I always land on my feet,” Lucky added cryptically. “Will you be expected at Haq Headquarters?” he asked Dina, neatly changing the subject.

Dina grimaced. “Dad can’t wait for me to join his firm, and Mom won’t stop boasting about it to all of her friends. Once you join, we will be the second-largest family-run law practice in west Mississauga!” she mimicked, and Lucky laughed. Beside them, Arshad looked thoughtful.

“Only west Mississauga? Why not the entire GTA?” he said, referring to the Greater Toronto Area, which included the city of Toronto, plus the outer boroughs and cities, and a population of seven million people.

Dina laughed, thinking it was a joke. “You sound like my dad. He has big dreams for Haq Law. Too bad Hania refuses to even consider law school,” she said, referring to her little sister.

“Is she still trying to be an influencer?” Lucky asked. He had abandoned all pretense of studying now, gaze focused on Dina. Arshad recognized the look on his face with a sinking sensation—his friend was besotted. How had he missed the signs?

Dina nodded, smiling soppily back at Lucky—as if he were a particularly juicy apple and she wanted to take a big bite, Arshad thought sourly. “Hania is convinced she’s going to be the next big thing in hijabi influencers and spends all her time trying to crack the algorithm. So far, she’s only got about five hundred followers.”

“She’ll get to five million in no time,” Lucky said, and again Dina smiled at him before standing up and stretching. Lucky’s eyes followed her movements. “Want anything from the vending machine?” she asked. Both men shook their heads, and Dina headed to the elevators.