Page 81 of Reasons We Break

The rest of the world surges back. The dim lighting, the sound of water running distantly from down the hall. The burning smell...of roti on the stove.

Flustered, frustrated, Simran flips it quickly. “Maybe you should take off your hoodie.”

“Trying to get me naked already?” He grins, but then immediately disappears into the hall to shout for his brothers to come eat.

Simran, meanwhile, tries to collect herself. It’s one of those times she could swear she’s not the only one who feels the pull. But that’s ridiculous. Rajan gave her tips on how to kiss Jassa. A jealous boy doesn’t do that. Besides, Rajan’s type is people like Zohra and Chandani. Whatever category that is, Simran knows she’s not in it.

She heads to the dining table with the food, where Rajan and Yash are already setting up. “Sukha’s not coming?” she asks.

Rajan pours them all water. “Telling me to go to hell would be a weird way of saying he was.”

Yash explains, “Sukha’s turning into Rajan. I think it’s a phase.”

“Turning into Rajan?” Simran sends Rajan an amused look. “What does that mean?”

“I dunno, but I don’t wanna go through it,” Yash says. “I think it’s like puberty, but worse.”

Simran laughs, while Rajan goes behind his chair and puts him in a headlock. “Stop talking shit about me in front of her, you little dick.” Yash pretends to get choked out. Rajan releases him and pushes his head forward, affectionate, before sitting next to Simran.

And then they eat. The sabji is delicious. The company is even better. Simran tells Rajan about her cousin’s boyfriend drama, which Rajan is delighted by, and in turn he tells her what he’s learned about the other youth on probation simply by eavesdropping on Kat’s secretary’s phone calls. Gossiping still comes easy to them, it seems.

Yash warms up the more Simran and Rajan talk. Eventually, he pitches in too, and Simran learns he’s a chatterbox. When he brings up his math woes at school, Simran tells him to bring his homework over, and she helps with the word problem he was struggling with. They exchange numbers in case he gets stuck again. She loves it all—the low-stakes conversation, warm home-cooked food, sitting next to Rajan, who occasionally stretches and drapes his arm over the back of her chair...it’s so normal. She’s forgotten what that feels like.

When their plates are scraped clean, Yash excuses himself, taking the dishes to the kitchen. Rajan says, “He hasn’t talked that much in a while. He likes you.”

“Probably because I just promised to help him with all his future math homework.”

“Nah, it’s more than that. But since you brought it up.” His hand on the back of her chair tugs her braid gently. “That was real nice of you, Auntie.”

She blushes. Rajan drums his fingers on the back of her chair. She feels every vibration like it’s on her skin.

“So how’d you do it?” he asks out of nowhere.

“How’d I what?”

“How’d you crack the cipher?”

She glances his way. His gaze isn’t accusing anymore. He looks...curious. Begrudgingly so. Like he’s been wondering this whole time and couldn’t stop himself from asking any longer.

“Give me a pen,” she says at last, and he gets up to find one.

She shows every step to him on a paper towel: how she went from a list of numbers to coordinates. From coordinates to a string of letters. And finally, from letters to a grid.

As she circles the words transposed in the columns, he says, fondly, “You are such a fucking nerd.”

She grins widely. Even re-creating the process gives her an echo of the rush. “Could the accountant you found to replace me dothat?”

“Sahiba, there is nobody on earth who could replace you.” He takes the pen from her. “I was just hoping the Lions would never realize that.”

She wants to ask how he found this accountant when the Lions were having so much trouble, but she doesn’t want to argue again when tonight has been so wonderful. So she says nothing.

Her phone buzzes. Her dad, asking when she’ll be home.

“Everything okay?” Rajan asks. “You need an alibi?”

She answerssoonand tucks the phone away. “No. I don’t need excuses anymore.”

“And it makes you feel like shit,” he surmises quietly.