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He should have kept his mouth shut. Satisfying his curiosity wasn’t worth her tears.

He found Dina huddled on one of the picnic benches the restaurant had set up as a makeshift patio in the parking lot. It was early evening, rush hour traffic steady in front of the restaurant. He took a seat beside her.

“I’m sorry,” she said in a low voice.

“I think that’s my line, according to your Post-it Note,” he said.

Dina sighed. “I don’t know why that message was in my pocket. You were never supposed to see it.”

He nudged her. “Admit it: You have a stationery addiction, and I was your original dealer.”

This coaxed the beginnings of a smile, followed by a frown. “Stop trying to make me laugh.”

“It’s the only thing I’ve ever really been good at,” he protested. “Are you going to deny me, after I trauma dumped on you about my sad life post–law school?”

Dina covered her face with her hands. “I’m as bad as Arshad. Completely self-absorbed.”

Lucky paused at that. So she knew her husband only thought of himself? Interesting. “At least you haven’t earned the ire of the Canadian Border Services,” he said, and this time her smile was not reluctant at all. In fact, it felt like the sun peeking out from behind a cloud, and something in him softened at the sight. She stood up, facing him.

“I did everything right,” she said.

He looked at her, confused. “Congratulations?”

Dina turned around, holding her arms wide, and howled into the parking lot: “I Did Everything Right!”

Behind him, Deepak, Hassan, and the Americans banged on the window of the diner, thinking Dina was doing a bit; he waved them back to their food before approaching her. Tentatively, he put a hand on her shoulder.

“What’s going on?” he asked gently.

She whirled on him, the expression on her face anguished. “You told Deepak earlier. I was the top of my class. All the law firms wanted me. I was valedictorian of my graduating class. How the hell did I end up here?”

“Well, Deepak drove us, so . . .” He trailed off in the face of her impatient look. Clearly the time for joking was over. He settled on the picnic bench and looked up at her.

“You want to know why I wrote that Post-it Note, Lucky? It’s because of what happened during finals week. Do you remember? That night at the library, when it was just you, me, and Arshad.”

He froze. Had his interest in her all those years ago impacted her so negatively that she still wrote motivational mantras six years later? Or maybe, once again, he wasn’t getting it. Maybe he was trying too hard and she needed him to take a step back. He hung his head, too embarrassed to meet her gaze.

“I remember,” he said.

Dina’s voice wavered, as if she were holding back tears. “Sometimes I think about that night, and I wonder if things would have ended differently, if maybe you and I would still be in each other’s lives, if I hadn’t talked to Arshad—”

“You did nothing wrong,” he cut in. “Any blame for what happened belongs to me. I didn’t understand what was going on, and I reacted poorly. I’m sorry, Dina.” He looked up at her now, willing her to hear him.

“I’m sorry too,” she said, her eyes watery.

The urge to pull her close, to pull her down beside him and stroke her back, was strong. But that urge to protect her and hold her was how they had ended up here in the first place.

He forced himself to change the subject. “What did you mean by ‘You did everything right’?” he asked instead.

She sniffed. “My parents always had a plan for me. Law school, join the firm, marry a particular type of man, become a pillar of the community, expand the business. I went along with it all, but it hasn’t brought me any joy. The only time I tried to reach for something for myself . . . well, it didn’t work out. Not that I’m blaming anyone,” she added.

Lucky wasn’t sure what she meant by that, but his mind was buzzing over the first part of her statement. Had she just admitted she wasn’t happy with Arshad?

She’s still married, a voice whispered. They’re still together. He sighed, forced himself to focus. What Dina needed right now was a friend, not a snake.

“Everyone wonders if they made the right decisions,” he said. “I felt like I wandered in the wilderness for years after my father died, before I figured out a direction. I still don’t know if I’m doing the right thing in my business. I still doubt myself.”

Dina shook her head, impatient now. “You lost so much when you moved to Chicago, but you managed to reinvent yourself. You had the strength to make a decision and run after your goals. Rabia Aunty said you’re the best project manager and contractor their company has ever had. You turned your bad luck around and made it work for you. I did everything I was told, I was given every advantage, and I’m . . . not happy. I can’t even be honest about who I am and what I want. I feel stuck.” She turned her tearstained face to his, eyes fearful.