Natasha slumps in her seat even though she knows they can’t see her. She studies both of them. Karan, in a baby blue polo and gray shorts. His hair is shorter than usual but still thick and fluffy with a curl at the ends. Does he look tanner? Fitter? Both? He’s almost the same height as the girl. Karan used to always complain about being five-six, but it was one of Natasha’s favorite things about him. She didn’t have to stretch her neck or stand on her tiptoes to kiss him.

The girl doesn’t look familiar. She’s in a sunflower-yellow dress and powder-blue heels. Large Chanel sunglasses cover her eyes. Her brunette highlighted hair is styled into big, bouncy curls. A black YSL bag with a gold chain hangs from her bony shoulder.

How is this possible?

Karan says something. The girl laughs. He looks relaxed, at ease.

Natasha considers getting out of the car and saying hi, as if it’s a total coincidence that they’re passing each other at the entrance to the market.

But something anchors her to the seat. She ignores the voice inside her demanding that she look away. No, she has to take in every single detail. She sees Karan the way that girl probably does: a cute, sweet, polite guy. Of course she’ll hang on to him. Who wouldn’t?

That’s the type of person your mom would love, Natasha thinks, hating herself as soon as the insecure thought takes hold of her. Another follows, then another: She’s better than me. She’s prettier. She looks less complicated. She dresses up for you.

Her self-doubt always operates in this opportunistic way. It just takes one thought to give birth to another one, until she’s lost in a web of her own making.

Karan and the girl start to join the crowd. Natasha watches them until they disappear.

Fourteen

Suhani

You are one of our top candidates for chief,” Dr. Wilson says as he taps a pen against his mahogany desk. “I’m sure you’re not surprised to hear that.”

“That’s great news,” Suhani says in a way she hopes is both confident and modest. Everything she’s worked for since her intern year at Atlanta Memorial Hospital has led her to this moment: every agitated patient she helped soothe, every weekend she got here by seven a.m. instead of sleeping in and cuddling with Zack, every shift when she didn’t have time to eat or pee.

She fiddles with her engagement ring and digs her nude heels into the carpet. Before she left the apartment this morning, she put on an extra layer of her plum Armani lipstick, aptly named Attitude. It’s her go-to when she needs to look fiercer than she feels.