Natural mathematical ability. Eram had been born with a bagful of it. Algebra, trig, calculus had always come easy to him. He had already been selected for the team that would represent India at the International Mathematical Olympiad when he decided to drop out of school. He had, at the time, been fifteen years old. The decision hadn’t been taken lightly, or simply because he was lazy. He had thought about it, conducted what corporate execs called a cost-benefit analysis, and only then told his father. Faizl, a fierce believer in personal freedom, had stared at his son for a long time. Then he had shrugged. You’re free to do whatever you like with your life as long as you’re ready to face any consequences like a man, he had said.

Eram was ready.

His decision had pissed off a lot of the nerdy people at school. Quite a few regular people too, but Eram hadn’t cared. What did he need trigonometry for? All he needed to know at the poker table was how to calculate mathematical probabilities, the percentage chance of hitting the right cards from a deck of fifty-two, and he had been able to do that accurately since he was eight.

Mental focus—now that was a lost and faraway land. It was El Dorado. It was goddamn Atlantis, especially after having met that girl. In the four days since, he had thought more about Gehna Rai than he had about The Big Drop—which was saying a lot because he thought about the tourney nearly every waking minute.

The park was filling up fast. Eram, fed up of dodging a bunch of random bodies that were in his way, exited on to Carter Road and kept running along the promenade overlooking the sea. He didn’t have siblings. He didn’t have friends, just some guys he knew from live cash games around the city. He had never had a girlfriend. What he had was a dad to look out for, and poker. It had always been enough. But now the girl with the crooked smile had woken something in him. He hadn’t a hint what that something was, but it made him restless.

Gehna wasn’t feeling too hot. She had thrown up, which she hated because the horrid bile-y smell of it seemed to envelop her for hours afterwards. It wasn’t morning sickness. At least, Gehna told herself it wasn’t. In the movies they always showed some poor girl bent over the commode to signal her pregnant-ness. It was such a cliché. Gehna didn’t want to be a cliché.

Should have thought of that before you let some boy stick his baby-maker in you, she scolded herself.

No, it definitely wasn’t morning sickness. She was just sick with fury at finding herself in this messed-up situation. It was a good thing her finals were done and dusted; no way would she have been able to study with this shit to deal with.