Reena curled her feet under her on the soft couch on the porch, hugging her warm chai close. It still felt strange that this beautiful century house belonged to her best friend. Up until this siege of misery, it had been a lovely weekend. Well, it had been lovely only after Duncan’s absolutely mortifying lice check as soon as Reena got there. He was a teacher and practically raised his niece, so he claimed to be an expert. Once he was sure Reena was bug-free, he made a crack about Nadim not knowing a louse from a mouse, and welcomed Reena into his home. Reena was relieved there were no bugs, but maybe life would be less embarrassing if she didn’t tell Amira absolutely everything that happened to her. Now she felt like she was under a magnifying glass again, this time with Amira inspecting her instead of Duncan.

“It’s not an intervention. And Duncan left to go feed his parents’ chickens, since they are in Turkey. I told you about the Galahads’ new fascination with Islamic architecture,” Amira said, before blowing gently on her mug. “Besides, isn’t an intervention supposed to be a roomful of judging people pretending to be concerned? This is just you and me.”

Another shovel of shit to add to the steaming pile. Even if she did need an intervention, who would come? Mum, Dad, or Saira? Laughable. Khizar maybe, but with two babies and a promotion coming, his middle sister wasn’t high on his list of concerns right now.

“I’m fine, Amira,” Reena assured her friend.

“Screw fine, Ree!” Amira threw her arms in the air, causing a small spurt of chai to erupt from her mug. “You’re always fine. The fucking house is on fire, and you’re that idiotic dog with a cup of coffee saying this is fine. It’s not fine. You’ve been downsized, again. Your father has all but traded you in a business deal and is now asking you to spy on the man he wants you to marry. A man who slept with a flea-ridden kindergarten teacher!”

Reena blinked at Amira. She really didn’t need this mirror held up in front of her life. Deflect and distract time. “Meer, why is there a couch on your front porch?”

“Don’t you play that deflection game on me.” Amira clenched her teeth. Reena knew her friend was currently counting under her breath to calm herself. “I know what happened when you were out of work before. You barely left your apartment and subsisted on bourbon and baguettes for weeks. You need people—wallowing a little bit is okay, but you can’t stay like that. When’s the last time you went on a date?”

Reena’s phone erupted in a Highland jig, and since Reena understood exactly how the universe worked, she had a good idea who the text would be from.

Nadim: I’m hiding my phone under the table so they don’t notice me texting you. Am I supposed to mention that your sister is only eating what looks like seaweed when your mum made daal, eggs, and paratha?