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“That’s not how privacy laws work,” Dina said.

Hania was crinkling her nose at her sister. “The only thing Arshad promised me was a performance I wouldn’t forget. Are you telling me you’re not ready? I really can’t handle this stress right now, on top of everything else. You have no idea what I’m going through, Dina! I need you to be supportive, not cause me more grief,” Hania said, her lip trembling.

“Don’t cry, you’ll ruin your makeup!” one of the A girls called.

“Yeah, Dina, are you going to let Hania down on her mehndi day?” Faiza said, clearly waiting for a chance to get Dina back for her earlier put-down. “We’ve been practicing our dance for weeks, Hania. You can count on us.” The rest of the A girls chimed in, reassuring her sister and throwing Dina disapproving looks.

Dina tried to calm down. Yelling at the bride, even if it was well deserved, would only make her the villain in this narrative.

“Just handle it, okay?” Hania said.

Dismissed, Dina returned to the main restaurant, more determined than ever to confront Arshad and demand answers on what the plan was, exactly, once they were called to the dance floor. Standing in one spot, swaying back and forth was as technical as she usually got at these types of things.

Lisa caught her eyes across the room and hurried over. “No luck in tracking down the Arshole?” she asked, sympathetic. Dina shook her head. “Do you at least know what song you’ll be dancing to? Maybe you could watch a video on YouTube or something,” Lisa said.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Dina said. She tried to keep her voice light, but her friend wasn’t having it. Lisa knew Dina had recurring nightmares about a grade school recital where she had been forced by an overzealous drama teacher to perform a choreographed dance at the holiday school assembly. She had tripped halfway through and taken the entire grade-three class down with her, a pint-size bowling ball to their neatly organized pins, much to the amusement of the parents and the chagrin of her teacher.

She spotted Arshad heading for the restaurant foyer and narrowed her eyes. “Got you,” she said.

Lisa followed her gaze. “Good idea. Poison his drink now while everyone is distracted. I’ll be your alibi, tell the cops you were with me the whole night,” she said with approval.

Depending on how this conversation proceeded, Dina might take her friend up on the offer. She made a beeline for Arshad, bypassing the bar, where nonalcoholic mocktails were being prepared, and found him in the hallway outside the restaurant, cell phone clamped to his ear.

“Just one more week,” Arshad growled into his phone, then pulled up short at the sight of his ex-wife. “Have to go,” he said, and ended the call. “You’ve been following me around all night,” Arshad drawled. “I’m starting to think you actually miss my company, Deens. Or are you here to remind me to be at your place early so we can drive down to the nikah together? I’ve already set my alarm.”

Dina breathed in deeply, reminding herself that Arshad was simply being himself. She pasted a bright smile on her face. “Actually, I wanted to ask what song you decided to use for the choreographed dance we’ll be performing for two hundred people?”

Arshad’s smile unrolled lazily. “I guess your sister told you. I wanted it to be a surprise. She never could keep a secret. Not like you can, darling.”

He is so very punchable, Dina thought. “I’m not performing a dance with you. Not today, not ever,” she said flatly.

Arshad’s smile only widened. “I think you’ve forgotten the power dynamic here, wife. When I say ‘dance,’ you pull out your pitiful bhangra moves and keep going until I say ‘stop.’ I think we both know what will happen if you don’t play along.”

Dina stared at him, hating every hair on his stupid head. “What’s the endgame here? You get to watch me humiliate myself at my sister’s mehndi or you’ll ruin everything?”

He shrugged, picking imaginary lint from his cuff. “I knew you’d catch on.”

Lucky walked into the hallway, catching them both off guard. Arshad recovered first.

“My man,” Arshad said in a fake hearty tone. Lucky ignored him, turning to Dina.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “Lisa said you were upset and asked me to check on you. Don’t tell me Hania ordered more bronze animals for her grand entrance.” His words were teasing, but his expression was concerned. The thought that Lucky had worried enough about her to check in made some of the tension leave her shoulders.

“Hania just told me the eleven-foot-tall elephant is on its way, but the Uber delivery guy’s got it,” she said.

“I hope you’re tipping him for his trouble,” Lucky said.

“Rich people don’t tip,” Dina said. “It’s part of our vibe.”

Arshad looked from Dina to Lucky, a crease forming between his brows. “Did you need something, Lucky?” he asked.

“Not from you,” Lucky said, eyes still on Dina. “Are you going back in?”

Arshad reached out to playfully punch the other man but dropped his hand at Lucky’s hard stare. “Dina and I were discussing our visit to the old neighborhood tomorrow. It’s been too long, right, babe?” he asked her.

She blinked at him. As far back as she could remember, he had never expressed the slightest interest in visiting his old stomping grounds, let alone with her. His parents visited them infrequently, and he wasn’t on speaking terms with his two younger siblings. Arshad had always kept his old life, before law school, at a far distance, and she had learned not to ask too many questions. At first, she had assumed the past brought up painful memories. More recently, she started to realize that her now-posh ex-husband was simply ashamed of his roots. Yet he had brought up this conversation twice in as many days. What was he up to?

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, ignoring his raised eyebrows.