Page 43 of The Art of Taking Second Chances

“I’m glad.” She smiled. “I love it when I make you happy.”

Aarti’s lowkey was never really so. She had obsessed over every small detail for the past week, and when we hit the bed that night, the fatigue finally caught up with her. I snuck out of the bedroom and called Mihir. It was almost 2 a.m.

“Hey,” he said, sounding surprisingly alert for that time of the night.

“Is Tara with you?”

A deep inhale. “Why?”

“Is she?”

“It’s late, Sameer. What do you want?”

“What the hell were you thinking bringing her here? Are you screwing her?”

There was a pause. “That’s none of your concern.”

“Answer me. I need to hear it from you.”

“You’re happy with Aarti. Why do you care?”

“Then you are.”

He hung up without another word.

I called him back. “Don’t hang up, dumbass. I need to talk to you.” He didn’t respond but didn’t hang up either. “Sangita has cancer.”

“Shit!”

I slumped down onto the couch behind me.

“Is it bad?”

I told him what had occurred over the past few days.

“Riya?” he asked softly.

“Yes, Mom’s worried about her too.”

“How can I help?” And just like that, he was a trusted friend again.

“I’ve initiated the paperwork to get her here if…it happens. Mom’s been taking care of the bills, but she didn’t tell me until last week.”

“You should’ve told me.”

“I know, but there’s been so much going on. Nothing is ever okay, Mihir! Every time I think I can breathe again, something else goes wrong.”

“Does Aarti know?”

“No,” I said with a deep sigh. “What do I tell her?”

“And Tara?”

“She doesn’t know either.”

“I’m not sleeping with Tara,” he said after a long silence.

“I know.”

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