The anger Natasha has been holding on to is replaced by an all-consuming longing. Over the past few weeks, every time Natasha has scrolled to Suhani’s name in her phone, the same jumble of questions stops her from calling:

What if we talk and you make me feel even worse about myself?

Are you annoyed with me?

Why haven’t you called?

Are you okay?

Dr. Chan stands up and says, “I’ll give you both a minute.” Outside the curtain, Natasha hears the low rumble of Dr. Chan’s voice, followed by Suhani whispering, “Thank you so much.”

“Oh my God,” Suhani says as she slowly pushes the curtain aside. “We’ve been waiting to see you for hours. They wanted to make sure you spoke to the intern and senior resident first. I’m so sorry. . . .”

Hot tears trickle down Natasha’s face the second she registers Suhani’s petite frame. Suhani’s large, almond-shaped eyes are wide with a mixture of shock and sadness.

“It’s okay, let it out.” In one swift gesture, Suhani grabs Natasha. “It’s going to be okay.”

“I’m so glad you’re here.” Natasha presses her face against Suhani’s T-shirt and feels a wave of relief as she inhales Suhani’s jasmine shampoo. It’s surreal seeing her here, in this place she comes to every day to make people—people like Natasha—feel better.

Suhani’s eyes are wet when she pulls away from their hug. “Can you tell me what happened?”

Natasha takes Suhani’s hand and says, “I’m really sorry for all the stuff I put about you in my comedy sketch. It was shitty of me to do that.”

Suhani waves her hand. “Don’t even think about that. Let’s just focus on what we can do for you right now, okay?”

“But I made you so mad.”

“I’ve made you pretty mad, too. And maybe seeing everything riled me up because it was true,” Suhani says. “I know I can be judgmental. And bossy.”

“It’s always been part of your charm. Your aspirational image,” Natasha says in a British accent. They both laugh. It’s nice to have a moment that feels somewhat normal. “But speaking of your image, what were you doing today? You look ready to climb the rope in middle school gym class.”

“Oh!” Suhani’s eyes dart down like she’s only now noticing her large glasses, frizzy bun, teal-blue pants, and high school T-shirt. “I was just relaxing at home and found some old clothes.”

“You were at home just because?”

“Yeah.” Suhani shrugs.

“Are you okay?” Natasha asks.

“Of course!” Suhani’s voice has a forced reassurance to it.

Natasha nods but inside feels a tiny kernel of worry.

Suhani’s voice is soft as she says, “I’m glad you could turn to Zack when you were having a crisis.”

“I, well, you know how he’s so calming in these situations . . .”