“Seriously, Kamila? I’m thinking we shouldn’t call her a home-wrecker without knowing what exactly happened.”

“What about Bronx Bennet?”

Asha snorted. “Sorry, I still can’t get over that name. I’m not going to hold something she did as a teenager against her now. Home-wrecker is such a sexist term anyway—it takes two to end a marriage. I’m sure no one is calling this dude anything nearly as nasty for not keeping his dick in his pants. If that is what happened, which I’m not speculating, because we don’t know.”

Kamila sighed. She knew Asha was right. Kamila didn’t like Jana, but she liked sexist double standards even less. She opened the bottle of white wine and poured herself some. Poured herself a lot, actually.

“Kamila,” Asha said, “maybe it’s time to ask Rohan what’s going on between him and Jana. Tell him you’re obsessing over him possibly neglecting you and your dad. If he knew how much you depended on him, then he would assure you he’ll always be there for you. Because he will. Also…I’m not sure if I should say this part.”

“Say what part?”

“You don’t actually need Rohan. You are capable of managing your life and caring for your father without him. Maybe it’s time to look at why you seem to think you can’t.”

That was all ridiculous. Asha was her friend, but she didn’t know how hard it was to manage Dad when he was in a depressive episode. Maybe Kamila could handle him on her own, but she didn’t want to. Rohan made Dad feel valued, and Dad deserved that. Back when no one made Kamila feel valued at all, Dad was the only one who fought for her. She had to keep fighting for him, too.

The elevator opened. Rohan was back.

Asha walked toward the door outside. “I’m heading back. Take your time—I’ll manage the crowd. See if Rohan wants some wine, too.” Asha left.

Kamila held out the bottle of wine for him, and he nodded. She poured him a glass.

“So, Jana was in your condo?” Kamila said, not meeting his eyes.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Why are you asking?”

“Just curious.” She handed him the glass of wine.

“It was personal.” He took the glass and sipped from it.

Kamila’s stomach soured. Personal…what exactly did personal mean here?

She must have looked as miserable as she felt, because he clarified. “We talked.”

See? He wasn’t going to tell her anyway. Because that would cross the goddamn wall he kept up between them. This friendship was completely one-sided. She told him everything, and he just humored her. Kamila was a fool.

Rohan nodded toward the others outside. “You know anything about why Anil was being an ass to her there?”