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“How is your mother, your brother?” she asked, not yet ready to face whatever it was that was nudging at her subconscious. “Did Saleem get married after your father passed?”

Lucky nodded. “He married a year later,” he said. “Jiya has been good for him. And we’re all obsessed with Nisa, of course.”

Dina remembered the little girl who had danced with such enthusiasm at the mehndi, and who had so effortlessly captured the crowd’s attention. “I think I’m obsessed with her too.”

Lucky’s plate was empty now, and he pulled his chai closer and took a long sip. “It helped to have her energy and lightness around after Dad passed and there was so much to deal with. Things were hard for a while, but they’re getting better now.”

“Arshad told me your dad moved you all to Chicago to open a restaurant with his brother?” Dina asked, struggling to remember the details. Her memories from that time were all jumbled up.

Lucky seemed surprised that she knew that much, but he nodded. “Dad was supposed to handle the day-to-day, my taya was front of house and accounting. After his janazah, my uncle told me he wanted to keep going and promised to give us a share of the profits.”

“What did you do?” Dina asked, though she had a feeling. The Lucky who had thrown himself into making her sister’s kooky idea for a mehndi menagerie a reality would have plunged himself headfirst into his late father’s business with no qualms, she was certain.

“I quit school and started working in construction,” Lucky said simply. “I had no choice. My uncle stopped talking to us as soon as my dad was buried.”

Dina gasped. “He didn’t!”

Her exclamation caught the attention of the rest of the party, who glanced over at her.

“All good, Bhabhi?” Deepak asked. “If that prick Lucky is bothering you, just say the word and we’ll deport him back to the US.” Chris and Luke nodded, while Henry cracked his knuckles.

Dina swallowed a smile. “I appreciate that, Deepak. Lucky was telling me about his father’s restaurant.”

Hassan and Deepak exchanged another glance, then went back to their conversation with the Americans.

She turned back to Lucky, who was staring into his now-cold chai. “I’m so sorry. You must have been devastated,” she said quietly, and he mustered a smile.

“It was a dark time,” he said, and the silence stretched between them.

Dina didn’t know how to respond. To lose a parent and then a family business over the course of a year was a heavy blow. “You said you were doing better now. Samir’s mom was at my parents’ place this afternoon, and she mentioned you work for the company and also have your own contracts.”

Lucky nodded. “I’ve always been good with my hands.”

“Yeah, he is!” Hassan said, shamelessly eavesdropping. Lucky refused to return Hassan’s high five.

“I started taking on odd jobs. Helping a few buddies with some demo work, worked for cash jobs. Anything to make enough money to pay the mortgage and keep us going. My mom had started a home catering business too. I didn’t want Saleem to quit school, like he kept threatening to do.” Lucky shook his head, as if remembering those grim days. “Mom was the one who found my first real renovation contract, actually. One of her catering clients needed some work done on their house. It turned out to be Samir, who is great with numbers but shit with plumbing. I went over to fix his leaky shower and ended up redoing the entire bathroom. I had picked up a few things by then, and I knew some other guys who could do the work. I managed the whole job, and he was so happy with the work, he introduced me to his dad. I’ve been working for them ever since, and also running my own gigs on the side.” His smile was wry. “Turns out that law degree came in handy after all. I’m a shark with contracts.”

Dina’s smile was genuine now. “You saved yourself and your family.”

He considered this. “It wasn’t just me. Mom, Saleem, even Jiya after they got married, we all chipped in. We did what we had to do, to survive,” he said, shrugging. “Anyone would have done the same.”

She wasn’t so sure. Most people—herself included—would likely have shriveled up and refused to get out of bed for a month if their life had gone so sideways. She knew how incredibly privileged she had always been. There had been no question of her success; her parents had paved the path with enough money and influence to ensure that she and Hania would have a soft landing, no matter what path they chose. Even if Dina had failed out of university, or hadn’t been able to land an internship, she had options, because her family had wealth and connections. Lucky never had that, yet he had managed to rebuild anyway.

Arshad, meanwhile, had only managed to glom on to her and her family instead of building something for himself, like Lucky had done. She reached across and squeezed his hand. From the flare of surprise in his expression, it was obvious the gesture was unexpected. A determined glint entered his eyes, and he reached into his pocket, pulling out a familiar-looking Post-it Note.

Lucky can’t hurt you again. Her handwriting stared up at her, and she felt herself turn red. He looked at her, the question clear in his eyes.

“You dropped this at the mehndi. It’s been driving me crazy ever since. Dina, what did I do?”

Abruptly, she got to her feet. The expression on her face must have been alarming, because Hassan and Deepak stood up too.

“All right, Dina?” Hassan asked, and it was the concern in his voice that got to her.

She didn’t want to make a scene. She refused to cry. But she had to get out of here. Stretching forward, she snatched the Post-it Note from the table and ran outside.

Before the door closed behind her, she heard Deepak’s exasperated voice: “Oy, chutiya, go after Bhabhi and apologize before we beat your ass!”

Lucky would have followed Dina even without Deepak’s threat. He felt stupid—why had he brought up the Post-it Note? The conversation had resurfaced so many things for him, memories about his father’s last days, those first terrible months after Majid had passed, his uncle’s restaurant—he could never think of it as his father’s now—the panic when he realized the one lifeline they had, the restaurant, their family’s only source of income, had been severed without explanation. As he spoke about it all to Dina, it had felt as if he were talking about someone else, a different Lucky who had survived those things. The compassion on her face, her understanding and empathy, had made him bold. He had to know what he had done to hurt her.