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But in the light of day, with my father’s words echoing in my ears and my ring sitting upstairs, all I felt was shame.

“That’s enough.” My mother shushed him and switched to Amharic. “Listen to you. Our daughter is finally home after a terrible tragedy, and you ambush her at breakfast. What kind of example areyousetting?”

“It’s not an ambush, Saba. It’s a gentle reminder.”

“We have different definitions of ‘gentle.’”

While my parents argued, I downed the rest of my tea, hoping it would soothe my nausea.

It didn’t.

My father meant well. He wasn’t aware of my situation with Jordan, and he (hopefully) had no idea about the recent, er, carnal shift in my relationship with Vuk. My mother was my comfort; my father was my guiding star. He was the one I counted on to steer me in the right direction when I was lost, and he was right.

If I wanted to pursue things with Vuk, I needed to officially end things with Jordan first. But how could I do that when?—

My phone rang.

In hindsight, the timing was so fortuitous it couldn’t have been anything other than a sign from the universe—a giant, blinking neon sign with all the bells and whistles.

But in that moment, the shock of the call was so great I couldn’t do anything except sit and listen.

After I received the short update, I hung up.

My parents had stopped bickering and were staring at me with varying shades of curiosity and concern.

“Who was it? What happened?” my mother asked.

“It’s Jordan.” My pulse raced. “He’s awake.”

* * *

Everything happened quickly after that.

I insisted on returning to New York immediately to visit Jordan, and I rebuffed my parents’ attempts to join me. I appreciated the sentiment, but I didn’t know what condition he was in. Too many people could be overwhelming. Plus, my parents were getting older; long drives were hard on their bodies.

After a whirlwind packing session and promises to update them as soon as I could, I met Vuk’s security team outside. Jake and Peter were the ones who’d escorted my parents home after the church attack.

Vuk had left their numbers on the back of my note. When I called and explained the situation, they’d agreed to drive me to the hospital as long as Sean cleared it.

The security chief must’ve said yes, because less than an hour after I received the call from Jordan’s mother, we were speeding back to Manhattan in an armored black Suburban. Shadow was curled up next to me in the backseat, sleeping.

My thoughts were a mess the entire time. Relief camped out next to anxiety, turning my emotions into a battlefield.

I was thrilled Jordan was awake, but last night remained fresh on my mind. Could people see it? When I walked into the hospital, would his family spot the stain of unfaithfulness marring my skin? How could I tell him I wanted to break our arrangement when he’d just escaped the jaws of death? If I did tell him, should I do it immediately or wait?

And Vuk—did he know his friend was conscious? Was he already at Jordan’s side, waiting for me to arrive, or was his emergency so dire he was completely off the grid?

A geyser of hypothetical questions spewed forth and clogged my mind. I wanted to text Vuk, but my overloaded brain couldn’t handle any more information.

A dull ache formed at the base of my skull. I closed my eyes and forced myself to take several deep breaths.

One. Two. Three.

By the time we entered New York City limits, I’d successfully calmed my thrashing heart. There was no point working myself into a frenzy over hypotheticals. What mattered most right now was Jordan. Everything else could wait.

We arrived at the hospital. Peter accompanied me to Jordan’s room while Jake parked the car. He stopped a respectful distance away while I greeted Jordan’s father. He stood in the hall, his shirt wrinkled and his hair mussed. Exhaustion lined his face.

“How’s he doing?” I asked quietly. I’d only met Richard Ford a few times in group settings. He divorced Jordan’s mother years ago, and he spent most of his time golfing in Scotland or sailing around the Caribbean.