Ya Allah, if Samir is concerned about this, there’s no way I’m going to get out of this situation unscathed. I swallow down the fear coating my throat. I can’t afford to be worried about this right now. There’s nothing I can do. This is a problem for future Karina. “It is what it is,” I say. “He makes me happy. I don’t want to throw that away.”

Samir nods as if he expected that answer. “Okay. I just want to make sure you know what you’re getting into.”

I offer him a strained smile. “Trust me. I understand. I’ll worry about it when I’m in college.”

There’s a moment of layered silence, a million things left unsaid. “I’m sorry,” Samir finally says. “I’m sorry you understand.”

“It’s not your fault,” I say, and I mean it. “Thank you for looking out for me, though. You have no idea how much it’s going to help, having you in my corner.”

He squeezes my arm. “Sorry I wasn’t there before.”

I close my eyes and hold on to him tighter. “You’re here now. That’s what matters.”

Samir nods before giving me a curious look. “Does this mean you’ll help me with Leah now, too? Tit for tat or whatever?”

“Oh my God, you ruined it.” I drop my arms, but there’s a genuine smile threatening to split my lips. “You’re so annoying.”

“I’m just saying.”

“Don’t say anything. Ever,” I suggest and leave his room. The smile finally breaks free. My brother is an absolute mess, but when it matters, he listens.

My parents call that night, and I grimace at my phone. I’m on FaceTime with Ace, who’s curating his end-of-month playlist while I finish reading a new book I got from Two Stories.

“Can I call you back?” I ask, drawing his attention away from his laptop. “My parents are calling.”

Ace frowns. “Of course. Are you going to be okay?”

I huff fondly. “I’m good. Thank you for checking.”

“I only wish I could do more,” he says under his breath but raises two fingers to the camera again, his sign of a kiss.

I raise two back and answer my parents’ call. For once, my mom is smiling at me. “Myra!”

“As-salaam alaikum?” I say and it comes out like a question. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Ma gives me a strange look, like I’m weird for questioning her optimistic mood. “Your dad and I just got home from a going away party. We had to leave because he wasn’t feeling well.”

“Don’t blame me,” Baba says from off the screen. “You’re the one who threw up.”