He looked up at her, his eyes warm with concern. “Oh, shit, Reena, I’m so sorry. Did this happen that day I found you at the Sparrow?”

She nodded, not trusting her voice not to crack.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

She bit her lip. “I didn’t want you to tell my father. I don’t want my parents to know until I have another job.”

“Why? Your dad can probably help you find one. He knows so many people.”

Reena fidgeted with her chopsticks, scraping the rough wood with her fingernails. “This isn’t my first … I’ve been downsized twice. Last time Mum kept saying ‘how could you let this happen to you?’ And Dad kept saying ‘now’s the time to join the family business.’ ”

“And you don’t want to do that.”

“No.” She pressed her eyes closed a moment. “I’m thirty-one. I can afford to live alone only because my parents own this building and charge me a fraction of what the average Toronto rent is. It’s still hard to stay afloat. As soon as things start going well and I start to think, there, I’ve done it, I am an adult now, boom. Downsized again. Don’t get me wrong, I know it could be worse, but I wish their help didn’t come with so many damn strings. Telling me where to work. What to eat. Where to live. Who to marry.”

Nadim sat silently for a while. Reena wondered if she had said too much. Delved too deep into serious talk. Not to mention that the marriage comment didn’t shine too brightly on him.

He finally spoke. “I’m sorry, Reena. I … I’m sorry you’re going through this. A part of me wants to say you should be happy your parents care enough to interfere. But that’s not right, either. There should be a middle ground, yeah?”

His parents didn’t care enough to interfere? Reena tensed. “I’m sure your parents care.”

He smiled sadly. “Let’s just say my father didn’t send me to school in England only for the quality of education. Out of sight, out of mind.”

“Nadim, that’s … I’m sorry. That’s messed.”

He sighed. “Yeah. Messed. I was such a cliché … screwing up to get noticed. And when he had no choice but to notice my mistakes, I wasn’t left with many options.” He absently glanced out the window.

There it was. A little hint he had a past he regretted. But how exactly had he screwed up? Should she ask now?

No. Not now. Not while he looked at her with warm, concerned eyes. He put his hand over hers, which were still clutching her chopsticks. “Enough about me and my past, though. I am so sorry about your job. If you need any help at all with your search, please count on me. I can look at your CV or practice interviews. I’ll keep your secret for as long as you need. Have you found any good job leads?”

“Yeah, some. My employment counselor is optimistic. I’ll be okay.”