“You can’t be wandering the streets at night, Amir. It’s not safe. And if my parents find you here, they’ll be so upset.” Her parents were nothing like other parents she knew. They believed daughters should be valued and treasured as much as sons. They would never pay a dowry to Deepa’s future husband upon marriage, should she decide to marry. Despite their own scandalous union, though, her parents upheld age-old taboos of etiquette and expectations. No visits with the opposite sex without a chaperone, and only in preparation for marriage.

Amir took her hand. His warm palm draped over her knuckles. “I’ll be careful.”

She wanted to freeze the moment in time, to suspend it in her mind. They had spoken for the first time at the Taj Mahal only a week ago, and yet, she felt she knew him better than anyone she had ever known in her life. How was it possible for her to feel this way?

“Besides,” he said. “Look around us, Deepa. Look at what’s happening to our people. This anger and distrust .… This could go on for days, weeks, months. What are we supposed to do? Stop living? Stop taking risks? Stop being who we are? I’m not going to do that. I’m not going to shrink in fear. That’s what they want, isn’t it? For us to … to cease to exist as we once did. To cease to be human beings in their eyes.”

When he released her hand, she thought she might float away, as if he had been her anchor. She was not like him, though. She had, in many ways, already shrunk in fear. She wasn’t sure any risk was worth this—this bloody though still beautiful face. “But why can’t you just give the origami to me at school? Why must you risk coming here?”

His gaze dropped. “Laila and I won’t be coming back to school,” he said. “My mother was let go from her typing job this evening. Her boss said she was very skilled, but he could no longer employ a Muslim in this political climate. It was too risky for them both. And without her job, we can no longer afford the fees.”

“Shameful,” Deepa retorted. It was just like what was happening at the clinic. People were becoming enemies everywhere.

“Ammi’s worried she won’t be able to find another job,” he said. “And my Abba’s been sick for a long while. He’s not been able to support our family for years. He thinks we should just move to Lahore to his sister’s house. But I don’t want to go. My aunt is very cruel. She’s always blaming Ammi for Abba’s poor health.”

“I wish there was a way for you to stay safely in Delhi,” Deepa said. “I’m sorry it’s become so dangerous for your family.”