Page 46 of Reasons We Break

“Yes.” Her smile is perfectly in place again. “It’s a nice afternoon, isn’t it? Go enjoy it. We both have a lot to think about.”

THE ONCOLOGIST FOLDSher hands. “I have mixed news.”

Simran tries not to tense. Her parents, sitting next to her in the appointment room, are already tense enough.

It’s been weeks since her mother’s disastrous birthday party—weeks of a cloud hanging over them all. Right up until now. But the doctor doesn’t seem to notice, swiveling in her chair to face them. “The scans don’t show anyobviousspread. But there are some ambiguous findings on your imaging. We won’t know for sure until the surgery, when they biopsy your lymph nodes. You should probably prepare for needing...more treatment, though.”

A long silence. If what Simran read in her internet spirals about cancer treatment is true, there’s alotto prepare for. A headache builds behind her eyes. She can barely even get throughthis, how’s she supposed to deal with all that?

Simran’s mother speaks up. “About this surgery. I want to make sure this is done discreetly. I don’t want—”

“Your sister, who’s a physician, to know. Yes, I remember,” the oncologist replies, somewhat drily, likely because Simran’s mom says this at every appointment. She stands to open the door for them. “Your procedure is scheduled on a day that Dr. Powar isn’t in the OR. Don’t worry.”

As they’re walking out into the parking lot, Simran’s dad nudges her. “Tell Kiran the news.”

This is clearly an excuse to make her phone her sister. Simran sighs. She knows what Kiran will say, and it’s already, preemptively, annoying her.

She half hopes it’ll go to voicemail, but instead, Kiran picks up first ring. “How’d it go?”

“No obvious spread—”

“See!” Kiran sounds triumphant. “Told you—”

“—but it’sambiguous. We don’t know for sure yet.”

“Sure, but this is great news. I’m busy right now, but tell Mom and Dad hi, okay?” And she hangs up. That’s clearly all she wanted to hear. Must be nice to get updates and go, and not have to deal with how suffocating the house has been leading up to this appointment. And it’s only going to get worse with this surgery hanging over their heads.

The prospect of going home suddenly feels unbearable, and Simran’s again guiltily glad she has plans today. “I have to go. I’ll be home in a few hours.”

Her father nods, squeezing her hand. Her mom barely appears to hear. They never ask where she’s going anymore. Which is too bad, because today, unlike many days in the past few weeks, she would’ve been able to answer honestly.

She separates from her parents to drive to UBCO. She’s running another errand for the undergraduate student society: clearing the event boards in preparation for the incoming year. All the posters, tutoring ads, and sign-up sheets from the last eight months have to go. Dull work, but Simran doesn’t mind. Especially not these days.

Surprisingly, when she arrives, Chandani is also there to help.

“Why evenputyour ad this high up?” Chandani holds up a flyer. She’s on the stepladder next to Simran’s, pulling pins from the wall and offering commentary the whole way across. “Who’s going to come to this event, giraffes?”

Simran shrugs as she takes down theSPRING EVENTSsign at the top of the board. When it comes to Chandani, Simran says very little in general. Usually Chandani finds a way to carry the conversation on her own.

But this time, Chandani leans against her ladder. “Okay, I’ll be honest. The only reason I came today is because TJ told me to check on you. She thinks you’re acting weird.”

Simran pauses. SheknewChandani volunteering was suspicious. As for TJ...they’ve talked briefly since exams ended, but Simran finds it difficult to maintain conversation when TJ’s sonosy. Which usually leads to Simran ending the call for fear that she’ll expose her mom’s secret.

Or maybe her own.

Thankfully, Simran’s phone buzzes at that moment. She fishes it out of her back pocket. Private number. “Hello?”

“Don’t ‘hello’ me, it’s Nick,” Nick says. “As you know. I need you tonight.”

Next to Simran, Chandani mouths,Nick?with a gleeful grin on her face. Simran leans away slightly. The last thing she needs is Chandani overhearing a call with theLions.

When Simran had left that initial meeting, Nick didn’t offer any clarity on whether she’d hear back. But a week later, he called...and the week after, too. Now Simran’s in the café every week, running the books under the supervision of Zohra and a rotating group of Lions. She hasn’t seen Rory again and hasn’t asked. Her job is the numbers only. There’s a lot of work to do, tidying old calculations and recording new ones. She’s starting to understand parts of it—four-digit codes, buying product from other four-digit codes—but she finds herself trying to go a step further each time. Trying to glean their patterns. She likes putting the stories together, even if the characters remain anonymous.

But...“I can’t tonight,” she tells Nick. “I’m busy.” Usually he gives her more heads-up. Tonight she’s helping Neetu pick out decorations for the engagement party.

“That wasn’t a request,” Nick says. “That’s an order, from someone above my paygrade. We found something we need your skill set for.”

Chandani leans in farther, and that’s it, Simran can’t risk her hearing more. She climbs down her ladder. “And what’s that?”