Page 61 of Reasons We Break

He doesn’t answer. Up the first flight, things are quieter. The air is hazy. A pair in formalwear sit on the carpet, heads leaned together, staring off into space and giggling at nothing.

Oh. It’sthiskind of party up here.

Nick releases Simran when they round a corner and come across a smoke-filled living room. And on the couch...Rajan and Zohra.

Simran stops short. Rajan’s sprawled on the cushion, although she can’t see his face because Zohra’s in his lap. They’re kissing. In such a clearlyinvolvedway that Simran’s face heats. But she can’t look away. His hand is on Zohra’s mid-back, the other tangled up in her straw-coloured hair. Zohra’s practically glued to him.

Nick makes a gagging sound. “I thought we left this behind in Surrey?”

They wrench apart immediately. Simran blinks out of her trance. Now she notices what’s on the table in front of them: a fine dusting of powder, a crumpled up five-dollar bill, rolled-up paper. More important, the euphoric haze clouding Rajan’s expression. Chemically carefree.

His eyes land on her, and immediately sharpen.

“The fuck?” His voice is hoarse, head swinging toward Nick. “You broughtherhere?”

Nick shrugs. “She came here herself.”

Rajan pushes Zohra off. She settles beside him instead and picks up a joint from the tray. Simran can’t help but notice how rumpled the front of her dress is. Rajan, meanwhile, glares at Nick. “I know what you’re doing, asshole.”

“What, showing Simran the ledgers?” Nick raises his eyebrows. “Yeah. Come on, Simran, they’re this way.”

He continues down the hall, and Simran mechanically turns to follow, still reeling—

A hand lands on her shoulder. “Wait.”

She doesn’t want to. She doesn’t want to look at Rajan and feel disappointed again. She stares down the hall, at the doorway Nick’s disappeared into, until Rajan speaks.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s none of my business.”

His hand falls away. “Right.” His laugh sounds bitter. “Of course not.”

Simran suddenly isn’t sure what they’re talking about. The drugs? Or Zohra? She has to draw the line. Fast. “What if they find out?” She turns to face him. Up close, his pupils are dilated. “They could send you to jail for this.”

“Then I guess you’re finally rid of me.”

“Don’t joke about that!” she shouts. He balks. The pair who were giggling near the wall fall silent to watch, as if this argument is now more entertaining than their hallucinations. “I can’t watch you throw it all away. What were youthinking?”

Rajan’s eyes flash, and she knows she’s hit a sore spot, because he draws closer, into her space. “What wasIthinking?” he repeats. “Why’reyouhere off duty? You working for free now?”

She’s suddenly on defense. “I’m getting ahead on work.”

“Oh, really?” He laughs again. “What about the rest of your life, you on top of all that?”

Nowhe’shit a sore spot. Without answering, she wheels around and into the room Nick went into. Rajan doesn’t follow.

It’s a home office, the ledgers stacked neatly on the wide desk. Nick raises his eyebrows—he clearly heard everything—but she ignores him to sit behind the desk.

“Need help?” Nick asks.

She opens a ledger. “No.”

Nick seems to take the hint. He leaves, but Zohra drifts in. To babysit as usual, probably.

Simran glares down at the new Aces ledger. The coded math in it would normally intrigue her, but she can’t focus. She’s angry at Rajan. But more so, she’s...sadfor him.

Neetu and the others at the breakfast kitchen would call her naive for that. They’d question whether Rajan waseversober, or if he’s been hiding it this whole time. She doesn’t want to believe that, but she forces herself to turn that possibility over in her mind now. Has she been seeing what she wants to see?