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Silence stretched between the friends. Lucky broke it, just as Arshad knew he would.

“Dina is amazing,” Lucky said in a rush.

Arshad shrugged.

“You know I’ve had a thing for her since first year, right?” Lucky asked.

Arshad hadn’t known, but he nodded, careful to keep his expression neutral. “Whatever you say, man. Dina’s really great, if you like that sort of thing,” he said.

“I’ve been trying to work up the nerve to ask her if she thinks we might ever . . . be a thing,” Lucky said. He was blushing, Arshad realized with mounting horror. His friend was a goner. As popular as Lucky was, he didn’t really date. He was too busy—with family, school, and the two part-time jobs he worked to keep his student loan payments at bay—for much of a social life. He was also naturally humble and could never tell when a girl was into him, as Dina appeared to be. “The only thing is, we’re moving,” he added.

Arshad perked up at this. “Again?” he asked. Lucky’s family had moved at least half a dozen times in as many years while his father failed to make various businesses work. Each new scheme started out with great promise, only to end with the family moving to dingier and dingier homes. Last year, they had moved into a two-bedroom basement apartment, something Arshad knew Lucky didn’t want anyone to discover. Dina’s father would never agree to marry his daughter into such a family, Arshad thought. Should he get in touch with Mr. Haq? He toyed with the idea before dismissing it entirely. Better to handle this matter himself.

His friend nodded, the usual light expression gone from his eyes, replaced with something bleaker. “Dad has a lead on a new restaurant. Old owner is retiring, and my uncle said he’ll go in with him if he wants to give it a go.”

“Your uncle . . . in Chicago?” Arshad asked slowly. The germ of an idea was starting to sprout in his mind now.

Lucky looked away. “You know my mom’s from the US originally. Paperwork came in last week. Dad wants to move in a month.”

Arshad sat back, absorbing this new information. “I’ll miss you,” he said.

“Obviously,” Luqman said, flashing his friend a cheeky grin, which soon faded. “I haven’t told Dina yet.”

“What about school? Will you sit the bar in Chicago?” Arshad asked, but his friend only shrugged.

“I’ll figure it out.”

Lucky’s motto was I’ll figure it out. How would he afford law school? I’ll figure it out. How would he juggle full-time school and two part-time jobs? I’ll figure it out. The only thing he didn’t seem capable of figuring out were his feelings for Dina, or what to do about them. Which meant Arshad still had a shot. His germ of an idea burrowed into the ground and grew roots.

“You and Dina have been friends since first year,” Lucky said now, turning those soulful eyes on Arshad. “I know she really values your opinion. Maybe you can ask her if she’s interested in me? I’m not sure I’ll be able to handle her rejection face-to-face.”

A tender little shoot was starting to push above the surface of his mind, the dark idea sprouting.

Arshad wasn’t a bad person. It was simply difficult for him to remember that not everyone saw the world the same way he did: as a competition to be won. Besides, he was looking out for his friend. Dina and Lucky would never be happy together. Lucky was too nice; Dina’s family would eat him alive. Dina deserved someone who could keep up with her, who would push her to be the very best. A man like Lucky would only accept her as she was and encourage her to settle for a simpler life, which would be an utter waste.

In the end, if Lucky lost Dina, wasn’t it his own fault for not having the courage to ask her himself and face rejection?

“Please, Arshad, there’s no one else I trust with this,” Lucky said, a hopeful, pleading look in his eyes. And just like that, Arshad knew his fate—and his friend’s—was sealed.

“Anything for you, buddy,” he said with a careful smile. Or rather, anything for me.

When Dina returned fifteen minutes later, she was juggling a few bags of chips and three cans of pop, but Lucky was gone, too tired to continue studying, Arshad explained with a smile. He ignored the flash of disappointment on her face at his words.

They were halfway through their snack when Dina blurted out, “You and Lucky are good friends, and you’ve known him forever. I really like him. Do you think he might feel the same? He keeps giving me signals, but he hasn’t made a move, and maybe I’m overthinking this, but he makes me laugh, and he’s so smart, and . . .” She trailed off, embarrassed. Arshad recognized the hopeful, earnest expression on her face—a mirror of the one Lucky had worn. Arshad felt himself wavering for a brief instant before he refocused.

As he allowed the silence to stretch between them, he watched hope leave her eyes, replaced with something else—uncertainty and shame. He knew how to work with both of those emotions. He waited for her gaze to drop to her lap before he finally spoke.

“Dina, I’m sorry. Lucky thinks you’re great, really. But you know how he is—he likes everyone but isn’t serious about anyone. He’s also getting ready for his big move to Chicago in a few weeks.”

Dina’s head snapped up. “Lucky’s moving? He never told me that. All he does is flirt and joke around.”

Arshad leaned back, affecting a casual shrug. “Lucky loves attention. So when a beautiful girl wants to hang out, he won’t bother her with details. Trust me. I’ve known the guy since we were in grade nine.”

The crushed expression on Dina’s face didn’t cause Arshad any guilt. Judging by how quickly she pulled herself together, he knew he had made the right choice. For all of them.

This was confirmed when she asked, in a small, hopeful voice, “You think I’m beautiful?”

Arshad smiled, like the predator he truly was.