“What is that supposed to mean?” Suhani challenges. The jerk always knew exactly how to push her buttons. She wonders if everyone has a person like that from their past, a person who occupies most of their revenge fantasies. Sometimes she wonders why she never told anyone, not even Natasha or Anuj, about what really happened with her and Roshan. But then she turns back to the same answer: shame. Shame can shut a mouth in a way nothing else can.

Roshan looks unfazed, which only riles Suhani up more.

“If you think for one second you’re going to get in the way of anything for me, you’re fucking mistaken, okay?” she says.

They’re interrupted by the low creak of the door opening. The first thing she sees is the black outline of Dr. Wilson’s glasses. His wide eyes and slack jaw give away that he just heard everything or, at least, enough. But then he moves and she sees at least five other attendings standing behind him, all of whom are also shifting with discomfort.

“Hi!” Suhani plans to sound cool and professional, but the word comes out way too loudly, which makes her look even more suspicious.

Dr. Wilson clears his throat. “Hello.”

“I should get going,” she says.

Dr. Wilson nods. “We’re late for our meeting.”

“Right. You said you had a meeting.”

“Yes.” Dr. Wilson’s eyes shift as if he’s unsure whether to continue. “The meeting to discuss the candidates for chief.”

Fuck.

Suhani lingers, unsure of whether to give a charming smile or make small talk. None of that feels right, so she just stands there. The silence fills the room with a thick, dreadful tension.

“I see,” she says. “Well, uh, hope you have a great one. Take care!”

Again with the overly enthusiastic response. Get it together, Suhani.

The other attendings file in after Dr. Wilson. Suhani’s only option is to get the hell out of there.

•   •   •

A few hours later, Suhani’s perched on a barstool next to Zack. He’s already ordered two cucumber-mint gimlets and is in a deep conversation with the hipster bartender.

If it were any other evening, Little Spirit would be able to remove her from the stress of the hospital. The dark wood panels on the ceiling, Prince soundtrack, and paintings of different musical icons on the walls transport her to a more relaxed headspace.

But now she feels a stab of dejection as she takes in her husband’s head thrown back in a big laugh, the glint of light on his glasses. She has to tell him about Roshan and she has no idea where to start or how Zack will react.

“Cheers,” Zack says.

“Cheers.” Suhani takes a sip of her gimlet. The coupe cocktail glass makes her feel like she’s in a movie from the twenties. If only she had a jeweled headband and beaded dress.