Page 38 of Reasons We Break

“Well.” He pauses, as if thinking of the best way to put this. “You know me and your mom will die one day, right?”

No. Simran wants to run away rather than hear this.Anythingbut this. Yet she also feels compelled to stay. To listen, because how can she deny her father what sounds horribly likehis dying wishes? “Mom’s going to be okay,” she says weakly. “And, Dad, you’re fine. You’re completely fine.”

“For now. But we both have health problems, and”—he shrugs—“everyone is orphaned eventually. We should have that talk.”

Simran turns away from the effect of his words, setting her rabab against the wall. “Dad.” Her voice wavers. No, not now—she’s been so good about keeping her composure until now. “Please stop.”

He doesn’t.

“You need to live your life, too, Simran,” he says gently to her back. “When I’m gone one day, you’ll need support from other people. Do you understand?”

Simran can’t speak. If she does, she’ll break.

“You and Kiran aren’t very close, and it worries me. Youarestrong, but you still need a family.” Silence. “Please say something.”

She stands up instead.

“Simran—”

And that’s it. She walks away in the middle of his sentence, striding to the staircase with forcibly measured steps. She ignores him calling her name and, halfway up the stairs, breaks into a jog.

On her way to her room, she passes Kiran’s. Her sister stands in the middle of the carpet, throwing clothes into her suitcase. She pauses when she sees Simran. Smiles a little too brightly. “Hey.”

Simran glances at the suitcase. The tears in her throat recede enough that she can speak. “You’re...leaving?”

“Well, yeah.” Kiran shifts from foot to foot. “I’ve been here more than a week. Just booked my flights. I’ll be back for Neetu’s wedding.”

That’s in July. Simran stares. “You can’t even stay for Mom’s surgery?”

Kiran avoids her gaze. “Why would I? The doctors are handling everything.”

“But—”

“I can’t deal with you guys acting like it’s the end of the world. Cancer isn’t a death sentence anymore! And besides, I have a job. I have other responsibilities. I have alifein Toronto. You can’t expect me to be here all the time.”

She busies herself with her suitcase again. And something in Simransnaps.

“Fine. Then go.” Simran grips the door handle hard. “Go back to your job and your friends and whatever else is so important to you. Go live yourgreat lifein Toronto. I’ll stay here and live the one you were too good for.”

She slams the door behind her, just in time to see Kiran look up in shock.

But Simran doesn’t stop. She goes to her own room and closes the door, far more gently. Turns the lock. Only then does she let the tears fall.

It’s hard to say when, exactly, Simran began resenting Kiran. Maybe when Kiran started her personal war with their parents during her teens. Sneaking out, partying, coming home drunk, arguing abouteverything. Didn’t she see the toll that took on their parents? Could she not have ever compromised—on at least some of those things? Because by not doing so, she left Simran no margin for error.

Simran climbs onto her bed. It’s a mess as usual, clothes and books strewn everywhere, along with crumpled napkins and pens. She shoves everything off the mattress on her way to the windowsill. Her dad’s words echo in her mind.

Growing up, she always thought her family was a constant. But of course it’s not. Families are fluid, constantly growing and shrinking. And hers...she can only foresee a subtraction. Her parents will be gone, her sister’s running away, and who is Simran kidding—any long-distance friendship she has with her cousin will fade the longer Simran has to lie to her. Maybe in the end she’ll be completely alone.

Simran forces herself to breathe deeply. There’s no sense crying about it. Besides, she has exam material to study. Grades are important, even if school doesn’t interest her anymore. But as she twists to pick up her textbook, something falls out of it. A Hillway brochure. The newest version, showcasing the revamped program she helped design.

It takes her back to yesterday—the volunteers were at an art festival, taking apart Legos for the next group of kids to use. Rajan was there. He greeted her as usual, but then kept his distance. She wondered if Nick had contacted him again, but she suspected he wouldn’t tell her, so she watched from afar. He took apart Legos faster than anyone. He also built some during his break, and the spaceship he was idly making looked amazing. He wascreative, she realized, not for the first time, and she went over to say she wanted to put it on display, but Paul got there first to tell him break was over. And Rajan dismantled it automatically, without even blinking. Like he was used to having the things he built fall apart.

Suddenly Simran has her phone out, her thumbs hovering over the screen.

The thing is, she can’t solve her problems. Those are inevitable. But despite what Rajan thinks, his don’t have to be.

She dials the number she memorized Saturday night.