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“Which you weren’t too happy about, if I remember correctly, Mom,” Lucky said, but Huma glared at him. Her temporary disapproval of Saleem’s early marriage notwithstanding, Lucky was the one in the doghouse currently. “Your brother was sure you would not make it.”

“I always make it,” Lucky said, though privately he thought that Saleem knew him too well.

It had been a close thing, throwing his clothes into a bag and forcing himself to drive to the airport. The closer he came to actually being in the same country, city, and physical space as Dina and Arshad, the more he had to fight the urge to run away. The only thing keeping him moving forward was the promise he had made to his best friend. He couldn’t let Samir down. Speaking of which . . .

“Where is the man of the hour?” he asked, looking around. He didn’t see the rest of the bharat. Samir had told him there would be a dozen or so people flying to Toronto for the nikah wedding celebration. He couldn’t spot a single one.

“That’s what we were trying to figure out,” Saleem said, after dapping him up. “Don’t tell me your boy got cold feet.” Luqman’s younger brother was short and broad, his hair cut in a stylish fade, longer on top. He still looked like a boy, even though he had a wife and daughter. Luqman smiled at his sister-in-law Jiya, who was taller than her husband, a pretty young woman with a long nose and small eyes, hijab casually loose around her face. Next, he greeted his favorite person in the world, currently perched on top of an adorable bright-red suitcase that looked like a ladybug. His niece Nisa immediately put up her arms to be held, and Luqman swooped her up high, to much giggling.

“You’re getting too big for this, baby girl,” Lucky said.

“You’re getting too small, Taya,” Nisa shot back, using the Urdu term for “father’s older brother.” The adults all laughed, as charmed by the light of their lives as ever.

“Seriously, bro, where’s your boy at?” Saleem asked, and Lucky took out his phone to check for any missed calls or texts. There were about two dozen.

“Uh-oh,” Lucky said.

Saleem groaned. “Let me guess. You were so busy packing and breaking the speed limit to get here, you left your phone on DND.”

Lucky hefted Nisa and grabbed his bag, as well as the ladybug suitcase. “We’re in the wrong terminal. Come on, they’re holding the plane for us!”

A mad dash through the airport had not been in the schedule that day, and by the time Lucky led his family to the other end of it, down what felt like half a dozen escalators, and then up another dozen, they were all cranky and annoyed with him—well, everyone except Nisa, who had enjoyed being bounced about in her taya’s arms, and who kept yelling “Faster!” whenever Lucky stopped to catch his breath. When Lucky finally arrived at the pin Samir had dropped, he skidded to a stop and looked around. This didn’t look like another terminal. In fact, it looked like a small airplane hangar.

Samir came running up to him, arms stretched as wide as his smile. “Surprise! I booked a PJ for my guests! We’re arriving in Toronto in style.”

The private jet was more of a propeller plane, but it was still impressive. Samir waved Lucky into the seat beside him at the front of the plane while the rest of the bharat found their seats. The groom’s party consisted of Samir’s parents, Lucky’s family, and a few cousins, aunts, and uncles who had decided to travel with the family, fifteen people in total.

“What do you think?” Samir asked his friend, gesturing at the private plane.

“I know your family loves to make an entrance,” Lucky said, grinning.

“You have no idea,” Samir said. His friend was a handsome man of thirty-one, always ready with a smile and joke. He was tall and slim, though his shoulders were rounded from a life spent in front of a computer screen instead of outside working alongside his father. Samir had decided at an early age that his talents were best suited to keeping his father’s books, rather than accompanying him to construction sites, and he had studied accounting and business administration in college, earning an MBA a few years before Lucky met him.

Despite the wealth and privileges Samir had in his life, he somehow remained humble and down to earth. The whole family was like that—open and friendly, never acting as if they were better than others, despite their wildly successful and lucrative business. Most of the time, Lucky forgot that Samir came from money. Then his friend would go and charter a plane for his family and friends, and Lucky was reminded that their families, despite their shared culture and faith, were not the same.

The flight attendant went through the safety demonstration, then explained they would arrive at Pearson International Airport in Toronto in two hours. Something inside Lucky’s stomach tightened at this. The last time he had been in Canada’s largest city, his family had been whole, and he had been a hopeful law student, ready to start a new life with his family in Chicago and planning to enroll in law school and finish his degree, sit the bar, and build a shiny new life.

Six years later, his life did not resemble any of the dreams he once had for himself. In some ways it felt as if he were flying back into his past, except the Lucky who had lived in Toronto didn’t exist anymore. He took a deep breath, and after reciting the traveler’s dua prayer under his breath, made an effort to focus on more pleasant things. Such as teasing his friend, which was the primary job of every best man.

Lucky nudged his friend. “You sure about this whole marriage thing? Just say the word and I’ll come up with a distraction and you can make a run for it.”

Samir shook his head, amused. “Hania’s the one, trust me. She makes me laugh, and I respect her hustle. We just get each other. Plus, if I back out now, I’m pretty sure she’ll send her fandom out to hunt me down. Never mess with a girl who can do a perfect winged eyeliner on the first try.”

Lucky laughed. “Sounds terrifying. I hope you’ll be very happy.” Lucky didn’t remember Dina’s little sister well; she had been finishing up a liberal arts undergrad when they were in law school, and he had met her only a few times. He remembered Dina used to complain about her aimless younger sister. It was surprising to him that his serious, focused friend had found love with a hijabi influencer. “Are you going to start making content too, along with your wife?” he asked.

His friend shook his head. “Not my scene. Though, actually, I have another surprise.” Samir stood up and called for everyone’s attention. “I have an exciting announcement. As you all know, my lovely fiancée Hania is a famous influencer, one who has worked tirelessly on her career. I’m so happy to share that our wedding will be featured in Vogue Arabia!” This announcement was met with a round of cheers and applause. Lucky whooped and slapped his friend on his back when he sat back down.

“I never thought you were a spotlight kind of guy,” Lucky said.

Samir shrugged. “I’m not. Vogue Arabia will be more interested in Hania in any case. I’m perfectly happy to stay in the background.”

As they settled into their seats for the short flight to Canada, Lucky reflected that he felt the same way. When his mother handed him and Samir another kabob roll half an hour later, he accepted with thanks. They both needed sustenance to get through whatever was coming next.

“What about you and Mariam? Any chance the next wedding will be yours?” Samir asked.

Lucky shook his head. “Unlikely. She dumped me this morning, right after I fixed her kitchen faucet. Said she wants a guy who works with his hands . . . as a surgeon.”

“That sucks, I’m sorry,” Samir said, around a mouthful of homemade naan and kabob. He took another enthusiastic bite of the sandwich. “Your mom should open up a restaurant. These are so good!” Lucky winced, and his friend noticed. “Sorry, man. I need to keep my mouth shut.”