Page 154 of Reasons We Break

He’s grinning, too. “Yeah, fine. I’ll come someday.” He nods to the shop. “Uncle ji’s always raving about your singing. Makes a guy curious.”

He’s never heard her sing. How has he never heard her sing? It’s such a significant part of her, and suddenly, all she wants to do is share it with him. “In that case.”

She sits up and, before he can ask what she means, begins to hum. Rajan stills. She keeps humming, though, for several lines before opening her mouth. She chooses a shabad anyone with a Sikh background would know, written by the tenth Guru when he had just lost his sons in battle and was separated from his people. It’s an expression of grief, a love poem, and a spiritual declaration all in one, and that’s why she likes it. There is no guilt to be felt here for being human. There’s just the sand digging into her knees, the wind stirring her hair, the sun warming her skin, and the boy beneath her, all of which are, if Sikh philosophy is to be believed, ultimately the same thing.

When the last note fades, he’s silent. “Well?” she asks.

“I understand now,” Rajan says. “Why people believe in God.”

She rolls her eyes and gets off him, although from the way he watches her, she’s not entirely sure he’s joking. “It sounds better with instruments accompanying, if you ever do want to come to the gurdwara.”

“And have people shit-talk you even more? No thanks.”

“I don’t care.”

“Do they? Talk shit about you?” He keeps his voice light.

“Not to my face.” Her voice is equally light as she settles next to him, cross-legged. “But TJ told me an auntie asked her mom if it was true if I was dating a gangbanger.”

“Fucking ridiculous,” Rajan says. “I’mthe one dating a gangbanger. Want me to pop their tires?”

“I have no idea who this person is, Rajan.”

“And? That doesn’t sound like a no, Sahiba.” He sits up and tucks her close, his arm spanning under her ribs. Rubs his nose against the soft shell of her ear. “You know I’ll do it.”

Simran leans into him and closes her eyes, not caring if anyone sees. Her father’s words still ring true—life’s too short to waste a single moment with the people she loves. Of which there are many. It’s almost funny to think that not long ago, she was certain she’d be left alone in the world.

That is, of course, still possible. But less likely, she thinks, if she stops pushing everyone away. Her cousin, her sister, her father, her friends, Rajan...she’s slowly learning how to let them in. The rest isn’t up to her.

And that, honestly, gives her a bit of peace.

Her eyes open. “What about that cabinet drawing is giving you trouble, anyway?”

Rajan smacks a kiss behind her ear before releasing her. “Don’t sayI told you so, but those arched doors are beating my ass. I’ve cut the wrong-size pieces twice now.” He digs into his pocket with an air of defeat. “I think it has to do with the arc radius, but I can’t figure out what.”

Simran smiles and extends her hand. “Give me a pen.”