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“You wanted to shut them up?” Lucky said. He wasn’t sure how he felt about being used in this way. Though Aliyah was at least being up-front about what she wanted, which was more than could be said for a lot of his first dates.

“You seemed cool, so I thought, why not? At worst we’ll have a nice conversation and some good food. So go ahead. Maybe I can give you a woman’s perspective on things. You seem like the sort of guy who lets things fester until someone prods.”

Aliyah smiled at him, and she was so pretty and friendly, Lucky wished he felt something for her. It would have been so easy to start a life with Aliyah. But if the last few days had taught him anything, it was that his feelings for Dina were real, and they hadn’t gone away. Whether they were healthy or had a future, or if she would make him happy or break his heart didn’t seem to factor into the equation. He was rapidly becoming addicted to her—her smile, her scent, her laugh, even the deep confusion and restlessness he sensed within her. It was all intoxicating. He had told her a lie earlier, mostly to protect his pride. Yes, he did want to marry and have children and settle down the way his mother expected, but he wanted all of that with Dina. He didn’t seem capable of loving anyone else.

“Also, dinner is on you,” Aliyah added.

It seemed a fair exchange. He started talking.

An hour later, their dinner plates were cleared away and the bread basket demolished. Two forks lay on a small plate between them, a few crumbs of chocolate fudge cake all that was left of their shared dessert. Aliyah leaned back, an incredulous look on her face.

“Dude, Dina was so into you in law school!” she said.

Lucky shrugged. “She didn’t say anything.”

“Because you were playing it cool,” Aliyah said. She shook her head. “No wonder you’re still single. Why are the good ones always so clueless?”

Lucky looked affronted. “So it’s my fault I don’t assume every woman is into me?”

“You need to pick up on signals. Like, did she ever touch your arm?” Aliyah asked.

Lucky thought. “I guess so, sometimes.”

“Did you have inside jokes?” she asked. Lucky nodded. “Did she bring you things, food or little gifts?” He nodded again. She leaned back. “Okay, so usually I would say I’m not sure, but having seen the two of you together, I can totally see it.”

“Arshad said—” he started.

“Don’t get me started on that guy,” Aliyah said, rolling her eyes. “I don’t think I’ve seen a more obvious try-hard Zayn Malik in my life. He might be married, but he doesn’t act like it. If I had given him my number, he would have called, trust.”

Lucky’s eyes widened. “You think Arshad would cheat on Dina?”

Aliyah sighed. “You’re too innocent for this world. Let’s just say, I think that little union is due for a shake-up.”

Lucky gaped at her. “How can you know all this?”

Aliyah didn’t answer the question, only leaning forward, intent on sharing her theory. “I’ll tell you something else. The minute you told me that story about how you asked Arshad to play go-between, I knew the vibes were off.” There was a gleam in her eyes now. “Honestly, I was a little disappointed things went south between us so fast, but this story makes up for it. I’m going to share this tea with everyone I know.”

“Please don’t,” Lucky said.

“Too late! That’s the price of my free, unlicensed therapy,” Aliyah said. “There’s just one thing I don’t understand. Why would you trust someone like Arshad to ask Dina out for you?”

Lucky shrugged. “At one point, he was my closest friend. Plus, throughout law school, he never indicated that he liked Dina romantically. I thought he would be impartial. When he told me Dina wasn’t interested, it hurt, but I was glad to hear it from him and not her, you know?”

Aliyah sighed, sympathy written across her face. “Men will do anything to avoid pain. Big mistake, buddy. Arshad lied to you. I bet he didn’t ask Dina about you at all.”

“You can’t know that,” Lucky said, his mind churning. Was she right? Had Arshad lied to him from the very start? That would mean everything Lucky had thought these last six years, about Dina and him, was wrong. He sat back, stunned. He felt sick.

Yet Dina had married Arshad. After you left the country, the voice in his head pointed out.

Aliyah picked a speck of fluff from her sweater. “There’s a simple way to find out the truth. Ask her tomorrow at the walima.”

He stared at her. “I can’t do that!”

She shrugged. “Fine. Then live with never learning the truth. But Arshad never asked her. I can guarantee you. Your old friend has been lying to you. In fact, I will bet”—she thought for a second—“an original Kamyabi that he made the whole thing up.”

“I’m Kamyabi,” he said through frozen lips. His mind was still reeling from Aliyah’s words, even as a small part of him understood, instinctively and with growing horror, that she was right. “I painted that big canvas you hate. Sorry.”

“Even more proof we weren’t meant to be,” Aliyah said. “I think your art stinks. I bet Dina loves it, right? This makes me so mad. Think about it: Dina’s rejection and your resulting heartbreak—it was all avoidable. You could have been married to her all along. You’d never cheat on her.”