Daniel passed the nurses’ station, glancing at the board, panic rising in his chest as he approached Mr. Mehta at nearly a run. “Uncle, is everything okay? Why are you in the ER?”

Mr. Mehta looked up from his phone and stood. “Hmm? Yes, yes.” He held his hand up and gave a small smile. “Everyone is fine. No one is hurt. Sorry to have alarmed you, but I came to see you.”

Daniel’s heart still hammered in his chest, and he inhaled deeply to slow it, but even in his relief he couldn’t imagine why Mr. Mehta had come to see him. “Okay. I just finished my shift. I’ll be right back.”

Daniel clocked out, sifting through the possibilities of what the older man could want with him. He grabbed his jacket and backpack and took a breath before walking toward the waiting area.

Mr. Mehta was waiting by the doors. As Daniel approached, Mr. Mehta nodded. “Coffee?”

“Sure.” Daniel opened the door to a slight evening chill, then led the way down the block to the closest coffee shop. His heart rate had returned to normal, but now his stomach was in knots. Was Annika okay? Was he about to be berated or thanked for leaving her?

Mr. Mehta addressed the barista. “Tall coffee, room for cream.” He turned to Daniel. “How about you?”

“Same.” He pulled out his wallet.

Mr. Mehta smiled at Daniel’s choice of beverage and addressed the barista again. “If you don’t mind, we’d like our coffee in mugs as opposed to the to-go cups.” The barista nodded, and Mr. Mehta waved away Daniel’s offer to pay. “Don’t be ridiculous. Put that away.”

For some reason, this made Daniel defensive. “It’s coffee. I can afford—”

Mr. Mehta stepped closer to the counter and swiped his card. “You misunderstand. This has nothing to do with whether you can afford to pay for coffee.” He finished his transaction. “On the contrary, this has everything to do with what I owe you.”

Daniel was speechless.

They fixed up their coffees and found a place to sit.

“I’m relieved you did not order the ‘chai’ tea.” Mr. Mehta gave a small smile.

Daniel scowled. “‘Tea tea?’ Seriously. And it’s not real chai anyway, is it?”

Mr. Mehta chuckled. “No. That it is not.”

Daniel sat straight in his chair, both hands on his mug. “Is everything okay with Nilay?” he asked as Mr. Mehta took his first sip. “How’s his recovery?”

A few people entered the shop, and the slurps and burps of the coffee machine mixed with the low volume of chatter.

“It may be some time before he can come home, but Nilay is progressing nicely. I suspect you already knew that.”