“I hope not,” he said quietly. “But I think that was the end of it for us.”

Within minutes, the three of them had reached Ahmad’s building, and the once too-fast elevators seemed tame after their rickshaw racing and other adventures.

Ma opened the front door with a smile, the smell of spicy chicken curry and freshly steamed rice wafting out behind her.

“Ahmad! Goodness, I thought you would have started your project by now. Mr. Willis said you left an hour ago! Is this your friend Winnie?”

Ma wiped her hand on the dish towel tucked in at her waist. “Winnie’s father said he would be back in two hours, and . . . oh, what’s the matter?”

Ahmad buried his head into her orna and snuggled himself tightly. He could practically feel the silly grin radiating off Winnie’s face, but he focused on soaking in his mother’s scent and feel and everything that just made her his mom, whole and warm and definitely not frozen—though there was a suspicious dampness at the ends of her scarf.

“Oh, Ahmad,” Ma said, squeezing him back. “You sweetheart. Come on, baby, set the table.”

“All right, all right,” Ahmad said as Baba, on the couch, waved at him with a smile, his cell phone still pressed against his ear. Ma turned back toward the kitchen and then stopped, whirling around to face the third person in the room.

“Vijay? I thought you went out for a walk.”

Vijay Bhai froze, his eyes wide.

“Oh, um . . . I did,” he blustered, “but it looked like it was going to rain.”

Ma stared out the sunlit window pointedly, and then at her childhood friend.

“Okay, then,” she said, with a shrug. “Ahmad, the table?” She grinned. “And a plate for Vijay Bhai, too.”

Ahmad started for the china cabinet and then froze.

“Ahmad? What is it?” Winnie demanded. When she reached him, she stopped short. There was a mouse beneath the cabinet, blinking up at them. Its cheeks were suspiciously round, and in its paws . . . was that one of Ahmad’s precious chenna murki?

Ahmad started forward and it squeaked, skittering toward the ajar front door and out into the hallway.

“It couldn’t be—” Winnie started. Ahmad firmly shook his head. “No. We were supposed to be the only ones who could make it through.”

They looked after the mouse for a moment. Ahmad cleared his throat. “So. Um. About earlier, with the package and the project—”

He yelped as Winnie’s elbow neatly found its way between his ribs. Apparently, she’d learned plenty from the MasterMind. “Let’s not start with the formality. We lived through a vicious board game together. Let’s stuff our faces and congratulate ourselves on a job well done, and talk about our project. Together.”

“Okay.” Ahmad felt a big, goofy grin breaking out. He couldn’t control it. Together. Apparently, they hadn’t left that word back in Paheli.