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Hassan was dressed in a red-and-white T-shirt, seated on an even more faded floral sofa, eyes intent on a sleek-looking flat-screen television, PS5 controller in his hands. He paused his game to dap Lucky and smile at Dina. “You get paid if the big man shows,” Hassan said. “Otherwise, no deal. Told you Arshad would ditch. You’re too soft, Deeps, you never give up on him.”

Deepak indicated for Dina to take a seat in a comfortable-looking armchair, before taking a seat beside Hassan, leaving the small chair opposite for Lucky. “What’s the count at now, bro?”

Hassan paused his game—Lucky could see he was playing FIFA 25—and checked his phone. “Four.”

Dina leaned forward. “Arshad has been a no-show four times?”

“This year,” Deepak confirmed. “Better than this mans. Disappears to Chi-Town and not even a text!”

Lucky felt his face heat. “I texted on your birthday,” he muttered.

Hassan shoved his friend. “Lucky had his reasons, bro. Sorry to hear about your dad, man. That was a bummer. Hope your moms is okay.”

Lucky could feel Dina’s sharp, curious gaze on his face, but he didn’t meet her eyes. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “I think we’ve got through the worst of it now. I got the flowers your mom sent.”

“Moms sent flowers? Sick,” Deepak said, snapping his fingers. “She made that cholay bhatura for you too, and you know she made that tamarind chutney, fam. None for Arshad, but plenty for his woman. Yo, why you marry him anyway? Girl like you, the way you look, plus those family bags, you could do better, know what I’m sayin’?”

Dina seemed charmed by Deepak’s roundabout compliment. “Thank you,” she said before turning to Lucky. “What did Deepak mean about your father?”

“No, seriously, we never could figure it out,” Deepak said. “What was it about Arshad? We’ve got to get Hassan married, and he needs some tips on how to lock it down. He wants a quality girl like you.”

Hassan and Deepak exchanged high fives, laughing, and Dina smiled. “What about you, Deepak? Don’t you want a quality girl?”

Hassan and Deepak roared with laughter. “I’ve been locked down longer than any of you, celebrated eleven years last month,” Deepak explained. “My oldest kid starts grade one in the fall.”

Dina raised her eyebrow, exchanging a glance with Lucky that he could read easily: This guy’s married? Lucky shrugged his shoulders. It never made sense to him, either, but behind Deepak’s bluster, he was loyal, hardworking, and deeply in love with his wife Manpreet, whom he had met in high school.

“Wifey’s a teacher,” Deepak explained. “I work shifts so I can be home when the kiddos get back. They’re staying at my mother-in-law’s place tonight, and the missus is on a girls’ trip, so I’m on my own. My wife needs some time for herself, know what I’m saying?”

“That’s so . . . nice,” Dina said.

“Happy wife, happy life, fam,” Deepak said. “Come on now, we have to find someone for Hassan, and maybe Lucky too. Your sister’s wedding is their last shot before they turn into old bachelors.”

“Too right,” Dina said, laughing despite herself. Lucky was amazed at how easily Dina seemed to be fitting in. She sat on the faded armchair as if it were the most comfortable seat in the world and bantered with his idiot friends as if they had been hanging out for years. This could have been my life, he thought, and again the message on the Post-it Note flashed across his mind. How had he hurt her? If anything, she had rejected him.

“So go on, what did big man do to get with you?” Deepak pressed.

Dina shook her head. “Why do you call Arshad ‘big man’?” she asked, clearly stalling.

Deepak and Hassan laughed again, not unkindly. “Cuz that’s who he always wanted to be. Big shot lawyer. Big shot family. Big shot house. Arshad never wanted to stay in our hood. He was just waiting for a reason to leave. His moms swings by sometimes, says he never calls. Big man too busy for his fam, right?” Hassan said. There was no animosity in his voice, his expression resigned, as if he had accepted being left behind by one of his closest friends.

Lucky watched to see how Dina would respond to the men’s accusations. He was sure it was all true. He remembered how his former friend had longed for a different life than the one he had grown up knowing. Law school, working for a big firm, striking out on his own—he saw them all as stepping stones to the life he wanted. Marrying someone like Dina had probably always been part of the plan too, Lucky thought. It wasn’t clear what Dina got out of the arrangement, though, and he was curious to hear how she would respond to his friend’s nosy questions.

It had been different for Lucky. He had never wanted to leave his old neighborhood. Life circumstances had forced his family’s move, but in his mind, when he thought of home, he thought of his childhood spent running around this same area with his friends.

“I suppose you’re right,” Dina said now, breaking through his thoughts. “Arshad did turn his back on you. That makes him a small man in my eyes, though. Maybe you should change his nickname,” she added with a sly smile.

Deepak and Hassan roared with laughter at this joke. Even Lucky smiled, but couldn’t help but return to the original question. “Go on, then,” he urged her. “What was it about small man that had you saying yes?”

She looked down at her hands. “I guess . . . he said all the right things,” she started, hesitating. “He listened. He was open, at least at first. It helped that we wanted the same things, to establish ourselves as lawyers and do good.”

“What, you’re a lawyer too?” Deepak asked, impressed. “Just like you, Lucky.”

“I never sat the bar,” Lucky said.

“I sit at one often enough for both of us, trust,” Deepak joked. “You all went to school together, then?” he went on, looking from Dina to Lucky, a speculative expression on his face.

“Were you a good student, Dina?” Hassan asked. “Smarter than small man and Mr. Lucky?”