Page 109 of Reasons We Break

“As if they weren’t doing the same thing on dating apps,” Gurjeevan puts in. Neetu nods.

“But they’d be like, ‘Why not open up to other people? That guy walking by could be your soulmate.’ And I guess my answer is, I think there’s multiple people, not just one, that you could be compatible with. There’s eight billion people in the world, after all.”

Gurjeevan says, “But none of those other soulmates are as handsome as me, right?”

The whole table laughs. Neetu elbows him before continuing. “If you follow the logic that there’s plenty of people you could love, you add a couple of filters, you know? Narrow it to people who wouldn’t complicate things. People who have similar goals in life, people who’ve had similar life experiences, so they understand you, and your families get along okay. People who make your life easier. Relationships are hard enough without adding unnecessary drama and misunderstandings.”

“Well said,” Kamaljot Uncle says. He nudges Simran, whose nosebleed is slowing. “TJ could learn something from these two.”

Simran shifts uncomfortably. That photo of TJ and Charlie sure made the rounds.

Toor Auntie tuts. “Come now, Bhah ji. She’s happy, isn’t she?”

“For now,” Kamaljot Uncle says ominously. “But real, long-lasting partnerships require more mature thinking. She’ll see in a few years.”

He sounds so confident. Even Toor Auntie shrugs, as if to sayfair enough. It pinches at Simran. As the others move to other topics, she impulsively leans toward Neetu. “What if you met one of those other soulmates first?” she whispers. “One of the ones outside your filter, who might make your life harder? Before you met Gurjeevan. What would you do then?”

Neetu’s smile fades, and Simran abruptly realizes how inappropriate this is, asking about other possible lovers in front of her fiancé. She leans back, about to say,Never mind, when Neetu exhales. “I’m not sure. Why?”

Simran wipes her nose one last time, a bitter taste in her throat that has nothing to do with blood. “Just curious.”

She can feel Neetu still looking at her oddly, but she avoids her eyes. Instead, she tries to imagine being in Neetu’s place, sitting next to the perfect faceless person she specifically went looking for. Someone who ticks all the boxes. It’s logical. It’s the exact kind of thing she would do. The problem is, the person she imagines isn’t faceless.

“Aw, dude, you wanna marry me? That’s cute.”

Simran jumps, whipping her head to the right. In the previously vacant seat lounges Rajan, one arm draped over the back of her chair. He’s in the same black hoodie Simran has stowed in her truck. “You need to chill. We’re eighteen,” he goes on, taking the toothpick from his mouth, “and I don’t take everything as serious as you. They’re right. This was never gonna work.”

Simran rubs her eyes vigorously. When she opens them, the seat next to her is vacant again.

“Simran?”

She blinks to find the whole table staring.

“You look pale,” Toor Auntie notes, reaching over to press a hand to Simran’s forehead. “And you’re sweating! Are you sick?”

“I’m fine.” Simran wishes they’d stop looking. So much concern for a person who doesn’t deserve it. What would they think if they knew about her and Rajan? After her erratic behaviour these last few months, people already whisper about her, but this would be so much worse. Would they still love her? Would they still trust her as they do now?

Her nausea intensifies.

Meanwhile, Neetu jokingly says, “Maybe she inhaled too much smoke at Hillway.”

“She’s very brave, working there,” Kamaljot Uncle says. “I don’t know why she does it.”

“Because she’s a good person,” Toor Auntie says.

“And it’s wasted on them!” Kamaljot Uncle harrumphs. “They’re completely disrespectful. Like that Randhawa boy,swearingat one of our diners at the kitchen.”

Toor Auntie tuts. “Really?That’show they treat people?”

“Exactly!” Kamaljot Uncle exclaims. “Ungrateful—”

“You don’t know him.”

Simran doesn’t even realize she spoke until Kamaljot Uncle blanches. The table goes quiet. She should take it back. She knows she should. But as the silence stretches, she finds that she can’t.

Kamaljot Uncle says, “Simran, we’ve been over this. He went to jail for—”

“So what!” Simran shouts. Conversations pause. Neetu stares at her. Gurjeevan, too. “How dare you judge those people when you don’t know what they’ve been through?” The volume of the backyard lowers even farther, and Neetu puts a hand on her arm.