Chapter 1

“New beginnings are often disguised as painful endings.” - Lao Tzu

When Time Stands Still

Time felt elastic here.

The seconds and minutes and hours stretched. One moment blended into the next, and suddenly I was standing there in memories that were four years old. Summers beneath this same sunny sky, white clouds drifting across the horizon. Birds calling to each other. Children laughing. The earth tugging forward in space, spinning like a top as my heart raced.

I wasn’t sure if I wanted this trip to ever end. Maybe time shouldn’t be paused at all.

The American Society of Pediatrics held a conference and exhibition in Anaheim each year, but I’d been ass-deep in residency since graduating med school, so this was the first time I’d ever been able to attend. Held in a convention center within walking distance from Disney, I enjoyed the warm, buttery SoCal sunshine and mild temperatures. When I wasn’t in the convention center listening to fellow experts in my field speaking, I was exploring the exhibitions and sneaking away to Downtown Disney by foot for churros and a seat at an outdoor bar to enjoy a beer or two.

I knew the sights and sounds and even the tastes. I’d grown up here. The valley girl accent was fading year by year, but I was still a Cali girl through and through.

Funny. I’d loved everything about California and yet it had been four whole years since I’d last stepped foot on Californian soil.

It had been four years since I’d been matched with and accepted that residency at the Icahn School of Medicine at Mount Sinai. Four years since I’d packed up my entire life—childhood through adulthood, med school and all—and moved away. Four years since I’d married the brilliant neurosurgeon who my parents had arranged for me to settle down with.

Four years since I’d broken Jude Dawson’s heart—because no, he wasn’t what my parents had ever had in mind for me. A six-foot-two blond white guy raised by a single mom and full sleeves of tattoos coupled with a nicotine addiction wasn’t their idea of an ideal match. Not for me. Probably not for anyone.

I closed my eyes. Four years and it still fucking stung.

“Please stop this nonsense, Maira. Think of your father,” my mother had said, pleading with me to leave Jude. Baba was sick. The doctors said it was mostly stress. If I hadn’t been in med school myself and already covered the subject, I wouldn’t have believed that my dating a tatted-up white guy could actually kill him.

But I knew better. It could kill him.

I still remember the day I’d told Jude. He hadn’t looked shocked. I could read it in his expression that he’d always known I wasn’t meant to be his in the end.

“How long?” he’d asked.

“I’m getting married next summer to—”

“I don’t care to know who it fucking is, Mai. Just when.”

“There isn’t a set date yet, but probably sometime in June.”

“We have until June then,” he’d replied, sighing as he leaned back. “Four months left until I have to give you up.”

Jude had lit a cigarette then, the smoke wafting its way down to me. We were sitting on the grass in front of a med school, of all places, but things like that didn’t faze Jude. He thought it was ironic. Funny, even.

A doctor who chain-smoked. What a joke. He always claimed he was a “Do as I say, not as I do” type of guy. He set a terrible example, but I always knew he was going to make an amazing doctor. If there was one thing Jude was good at, it was caring.

I’d actually thought for a while that my parents would accept him because he was studying to be a doctor, and a doctor for a husband was ideal, wasn’t it?

But then they’d met him. Sailor-mouthed Jude Dawson with his cigarettes and his tattoos and his motorcycle. He was so... American. So different. So other. So unlike us and our ancient customs that dated back thousands of years. Jude couldn’t even trace back two generations of his family tree. He had hardly any history at all.

But maybe that was what attracted me to him in the first place.

I’d always been an overachiever growing up—the girl who had to be the best at everything. The highest grades. The best accolades and scholarships and grants. Valedictorian. UCLA and then David Geffen School of Medicine. I’d never given much thought to boys, and by the time it started to matter, I’d already given the men around me a terrible impression.

Stuck-up. Know-it-all. Boring, brainy, dorky Maira Khan.

For a long time, I’d thought I was undesirable. That I had nothing to offer other than my intelligence. That no one was ever going to want me.

Until I met Jude.

He was arrogant. A Boy Wonder who’d grown up to be far too handsome for his own good. He was always full of himself, the kind of guy that gave your middle finger an erection.

We’d met in Second Year Pharmacology. While I’d been taking notes on drug treatments and their methods of action in the human body, Jude had been lazily staring at me.

“What?” I finally said, turning to him.

“Huh?”

“I can’t concentrate with you staring at me, so tell me what you want already,” I snapped, scribbling down more notes from the board.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Jude said. “I was just thinking that you have really nice hair.”

My cheeks flushed with heat. My hair was about the only good attribute I had. After years of coconut oil treatments from my mother, it was shiny and onyx-black, thick and a little curly at the ends.

“Thanks,” I murmured. “Aren’t you gonna take notes?”

“Why? You’re already taking them.”

I raised a brow. “You can’t honestly think I’ll share with you.”

“Why not?”

“Because that wouldn’t be fair. You’re not doing any work.”

“What if I told you there was pizza and sex in it for you?”

“Gross,” I said, not entirely meaning it. I was intrigued, but my pride would never let me show it.

“Okay, forget I said all that. Would you maybe wanna grab dinner after? You don’t have to let me copy your notes.”

We did grab dinner after class. And I did end up letting him copy my notes.

In a perfect world, Jude Dawson and I would’ve ended up together. For a couple of years, we’d been everything to each other. We’d leaned on each other in med school. Shared notes, shared secrets, and shared kisses. I was too thin and a know-it-all and basically had no ass, but Jude made up for my lack of beauty and grace with bucketfuls of his own. He was good-looking and charming enough for the both of us.

Tall, with one of those lean, muscular bodies that only ever belonged to swimmers and runners. A million-watt smile, teeth perfectly straight and white. Deep dimples, more forming when he graced me with another one of his shit-eating grins. Hair the color of sunshine, gold-spun and thick, slicked back with a comb that he carried in his back pocket.

He was beautiful. Smart. Funny. Crass.

Giving him up nearly broke me.

Maybe, if I was really being honest, it had.
{cb}Across a Crowded Room

The book signings were held in the Resource Center. Wandering aimlessly from booth to booth, I picked up a couple signed copies of books that had been on my list for a while. Most of them were parenting books, which in my field—pediatrics—was basically gold in written form. If I could have a dollar for every time a frazzled new parent had asked me about the wonders of their growing child’s bodies, I’d have enough money to buy a ranch and retire with a bunch of cattle.

Of course, that wasn’t my dream. It was Jude’s. But that’s the thing about falling in love: their dreams somehow warp and become yours, too.

It shouldn’t be my dream anymore. My dreams should revolve around Dr. Sameer Rahman. My husband.

Four years of marriage and we were still somehow strangers. With our busy schedules, we were lucky to catch a glimpse of each other once a week. He was often the on-call attending, and up until a couple weeks ago, I’d been buried ass-deep in my residency.

In the beginning, we’d tried. Gone on dates. Had awkward, lackluster sex. Tried learning about each other. Talked about our pasts. But in the end, when we stopped trying, when we drifted apart and started sleeping in separate rooms, it became apparent that our marriage was only for the world. For our parents. For society. For dinner dates to accept awards.

Our marriage wasn’t for us. It never had been.

“Maira?”

That knocked me right out of my thoughts. I turned around, confused at first by what I was looking at. The man staring back at me wasn’t someone I recognized. He was a good-looking guy, probably a couple of years older than me. Black hair, blue eyes. Broad chest, and a nice, easy smile.

“I’m sorry. Do I know you?”

He held out his hand. “I apologize. This must be weird of me. I’m Dr. Spenrath. Or Wes. We don’t have to be formal. I, uh, recognize you from the pictures.”

I took his hand, shaking it. Still entirely confused.

“Pictures?”

“Jude’s locker,” Wes said. “I work with him at the Children’s Hospital of Orange County. He keeps your pictures in his locker.”

Crack. It was like someone had taken a mallet and smashed me open.

“Jude?” I repeated.

“Dr. Jude Dawson. You’re his Maira, aren’t you? Please tell me I’m speaking to the right woman,” Wes said, looking a little embarrassed.

“Y-You are,” I said, stammering as I tried to make sense of what was happening. “Jude—he went into pediatrics?”

Wes grinned. “Yeah. Shocker, I know.”

“But he doesn’t even like kids.”

“He swore for the longest time that it made his job easier to not like the kids, but honestly, now I think he’s the biggest fan of anyone I know. And the kids love him, too. He always makes them laugh the hardest.”

I stood there, still in shock. Reeling.

“Is he here?” I managed to ask.

“Jude?” Wes said, turning and looking around. “Yeah, should be around here somewhere.”

As if I were in a movie, my vision focused on a man across the room. Tall, with broad shoulders, that winning million-watt smile, golden hair brushed back from his handsome face. He was speaking to an author at a booth, making her throw her head back as she laughed her heart out.

He had that effect on people.

“I have to go. It was nice meeting you Dr ... Uh, Wes,” I said, turning to flee.

“You don’t even want to say hi to him?” Wes called after me.

“I, uh ... Maybe some other time.”

I looked over my shoulder and—locked eyes with Jude. He was still across the room, his jaw tight as he stared back at me. His body was tense. Almost angry.

I tore my eyes away from his and searched for the nearest exit.

Then, like the big, dumb coward I was, I fled.

{cb}It’s Doctor Now

I resorted to day drinking.

It was barely noon, but I’d already downed two beers and a plate of fries at an outdoor bar situated in a courtyard in Downtown Disney. The skies were blue and the sun was bright and families maneuvered their way around the bar, shuffling from one shop to the next. Some were headed to or from Disneyland, their Mickey ears giving them away. Balloons swayed in the wind. The smell of popcorn and churros wafted down the shopping center.

Truth was, I wasn’t really drinking. I mean, I was, but what I was really doing was hiding. Conveniently, at a bar. With a steady stream of alcohol. And fries, because if anything was going to get me through the mindfuck of running into my ex, it was going to be more carbs.

He’d looked pissed. Why had he looked pissed?

Probably because you broke his heart, dumbass.

Right. I had done that.

Checking my watch, I realized that in roughly thirty minutes, a speaker that I’d been looking forward to hearing from would be presenting in one of the conference halls. I paid my bill, chewing on my lower lip as I considered the possibility of running into Jude again. Maybe he’d spit on my shoes or something and that’d be the end of it.

Knowing Jude and his anger issues, though, that didn’t seem likely. He’d been spiteful as a kid—something he was almost proud of when telling me all the horrible stories of how he’d gotten even with anyone that ever dared to cross him. How a guy like that could grow up to be a doctor for literal children was beyond me. I’d always thought Jude would make an excellent trauma surgeon. He had steady hands, and he didn’t mind the blood—it also didn’t hurt that he didn’t have to be perfect. Jude worked sloppily, but he was effective.

I made a sluggish walk back to the convention center, dragging my feet under the cracking hot sun. It was the hottest time of day and after about ten minutes, I considered an Uber, but talked myself out of it. The convention center wasn’t far. I could make it. Just a couple more steps.

It took me twenty-two minutes, but I made it just in time to grab a seat in the back. My head swam from the alcohol. Not in a bad way—just that place between tipsy and drunk, where you’re both in control and not at all.

At the stage, Dr. Yolanda Perez gave a riveting talk about something-something regarding something-something-something. I clapped when everyone else did, feeling like an idiot marionette on strings. The talk was supposed to carry on for forty minutes.

I regretted coming at all. I should’ve stayed at the bar and gotten proper drunk.

Sameer would’ve hated that. My husband didn’t like it when I drank, mainly because he was a man of faith and didn’t drink at all. He never told me I couldn’t, but he didn’t hide his disdain. For some reason, that only made me drink more.

In the beginning of our marriage, I’d done so much to get a rise out of him. Drank. Smoked. Partied with the other residents. Wore skimpy clothes for the first time in my life.

He noticed but didn’t care enough to correct my behavior.

It was just as well. I wasn’t a child anymore—even if I sometimes acted like one.

“Excuse me,” said a gruff voice.

I glanced at the empty seat to my left, and the long legs standing to my right. I moved my legs out of the way to let him squeeze past and take the seat. The lights were dimmed, a spotlight on Dr. Perez on the stage.

In all fairness, I should’ve known it would be him, but I was still shocked when Jude took the seat beside me, placing a hand firmly over my knee to keep me from bolting.

“Hello, Mai.”

I wanted to be the type of woman who could refuse to look at her ex, but I didn’t have the strength. I turned my head—and there he was. Golden hair swept back, a lock falling into his piercing blue eyes. That face that I knew so well, still as handsome as ever. Completely unchanged in four years.

“Jude,” I said in a small voice.

“Why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not avoiding you.”

“Bullshit.”

Someone turned around and tried shushing him.

“Shove it up your ass, lady,” Jude growled.

“How dare—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jude said, rising to his feet. “We’re leaving.”

We?

I didn’t get a choice. Jude grabbed my arm and tugged me up—and I swayed, nearly toppling into an old man’s lap. Jude placed his hands on my shoulders and let out a choked laugh.

“What?” I said.

“You’ve been drinking,” he said, desperately trying not to laugh too loudly. He was failing. More people shushed us, and Jude led me carefully to the aisle and then out the doors of the auditorium. My legs moved, but again, I was sluggish. Slow. Ungraceful as fuck.

The hall we stepped into was mostly empty, save for a few people traveling between exhibits. I leaned against a wall, crossing my arms as I chanced a look up at Jude.

One of his classic shit-eating grins.

I sighed. “What do you want, Jude?”

“What makes you think I want something?”

“That look on your face. I know it well. Spit it out, Dawson.”

Jude cracked his knuckles. Not to intimidate me or anything. It was simply something he did when he was nervous. I deflated a little.

“I just wanna talk,” he said.

“About?”

“Life, I guess. What you’re up to. Where you live. If you’re still married to whoever it is you dumped me for.”

I blew a stray strand of hair away from my face before I chose to answer one of his questions.

“I’m a pediatrician now.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“I heard you are, too.”

“Close. Pediatric surgery,” he said. “I’ve still got a couple years of residency left.”

“Good for you. Surgery suits you.”

“Thanks,” he said, and walked over and leaned against the wall next to me. He turned and looked down at me. Our height difference was still shocking. He was six-two and me? Five-three. Standing there in my Toms, I didn’t even have high heels to help me look less ... well, hopeless.

“I’m still married,” I admitted.

“I noticed the ring.”

It’s just for show, anyway, I almost said. Almost.

“What about you?” I shot back. “Settled down yet?”

Jude held up his left hand, waving it in front of my face. No ring.

“Not even a girlfriend?”

Jude snorted. “I’m a resident, Mai. Where would I find the fucking time?”

“The same way you find the time to chase your exes down and force them to have a conversation with you.”

He laughed. “Alright, I guess I deserved that. Sorry. Do you want me to leave you alone?”

“What I want is a drink.”

“You already reek of beer. And you’ve got that stupid look on your face. The one you get when you’ve had two beers. Or five.”

“You’re really turning down getting a drink with me?”

Jude kicked off from the wall. “A hotel nearby has a pretty cool bar.”

“Nuh-uh,” I said, shaking my head. “We’re not going to a hotel.”

“I’m not taking you to Downtown Disney looking like that. Think of the children.”

That got a laugh out of me. Jude grinned, pleased with himself.

“Since when do you give a fuck about kids?” I asked, rubbing my temple.

“Since they became my patients.”

“That’s really weird, Jude.”

“What is?”

“You, caring about something.”

He chuckled. “That’s not fair. I always had the capacity to care. I mean, look at you. You were a mess when I met you and you’re a mess now, and in both instances, I cared and continue to care.”

“Fuck you.”

“Thought you were married now.”

I waved off his clever dick comment. “I am. Shut up.”

“Are you too married to go to the beach with me?”

“The beach,” I repeated.

“Yeah. We could go down to Huntington. Like old times.”

“How would we get there?”

“My car,” he said. “I actually still live here, you know.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s what your friend said. Dr. Wes Something.”

“Dr. Westley Spenrath,” Jude supplied for me.

“What a terrible name,” I said, scrunching up my face.

Jude laughed. “He tried making us all call him Dr. Wes for a while. It stuck with the kids, but the staff preferred busting his balls. We started calling him made-up names. You’d hear it over the hospital PA system. Paging Dr. Waffle Sandals. Needed in the NICU, Dr. Window Shrimp. Dr. Wagon Shingles requested in conference room one. Shit like that.”

Surprisingly, that made me giggle. “Dr. Waffle Sandals. That’s good.”

Jude smiled and held out his hand. “So, what do you say, Mai? Beach day?”

“I didn’t bring a bathing suit.”

“We don’t have to go in the water.”

I shook my head. “I’m not going anywhere with you, Jude Dawson.”

“It’s Doctor now.”

“Whatever.”

“You said you’d have a drink with me,” he pointed out.

“I said I wanted a drink. Not with you, necessarily.”

“I’ll get you to a drink. And maybe stay for one. Would that work?”

I pretended to think about it. Jude waited patiently.

“Fine.”
{cb}Drinking All the Memories

“Why’d you look so angry in the Resource Center?” I asked, my hand wrapped around a glass of whatever was on tap. I trailed my eyes up to meet Jude’s gaze. He was sitting across from me in a cramped little booth. He’d brought me to some dive bar in a shitty part of Anaheim that I would’ve never dared to venture into on my own.

Jude always did shit like that. Took me to sketchy places just to watch me squirm.

“Such a spoiled little pretty princess,” was the line he’d fed to me a hundred times. And a hundred times I’d let him fuck the fear out of me, until I became stronger and stronger, and one day the sketchy bars and clubs no longer scared me.

Four years and I’d apparently forgotten none of my training. The dive bar didn’t freak me out one bit. Oddly enough, I felt at home. Just the two of us getting smashed.

Like old times.

“You ran,” Jude said, answering my question and lifting the glass of whiskey on the rocks to his lips.

“I did not—”

“You did. You took one look at me and ran for the fucking door.”

I bit my tongue. Okay, so I’d run. So the fuck what?

“Nah, don’t do that,” Jude said, taking another sip from his glass.

“Do what?”

“Don’t keep your shitty opinions to yourself. You know I like you best when you’re a terrible person.”

I snorted. “You’ve always liked my dark side. Figures.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because you’re fucked up, Jude. Isn’t that right? You like me when I’m bad because you’re bad. You’re the one who was always telling me that people don’t attract what they want. They attract what they are.”

“I did say that, didn’t I?”

He was so fucking cocky.

I rolled my eyes. “You haven’t changed. Not one fucking bit.”

Jude shot me a dazzling smile. “That’s healthy eats and a consistent work-out routine for ya.”

“Literally wasn’t talking about all this,” I gestured to his body, “but whatever.”

“All this,” he made the same gesture, “got your attention in the first place.”

My cheeks felt a little warm. “That’s not true.”

“You’re blushing, you idiot.”

“Don’t call me names.”

“Fuck you. You called me names for years. So shut up and take it ... bitch.”

I laughed. “Fucking asshole.”

“I could be, if you’d let me. Maybe in the bathroom?”

I crumpled up a napkin and threw it at his face.

“You’re disgusting, babe.”

Babe. The word had tumbled out of my mouth so naturally. I’d said it at least a thousand times—but that had been years ago. Before I’d broken his heart. Before I’d married someone else. Before I’d given in to the pressures of being a first generation Bangladeshi-American with overbearing parents.

“Why pediatrics?” I quickly said, trying to cover up the awkwardness that had settled between us.

Jude cleared his throat. “Don’t know. I guess I just missed you. Went into it thinking I would understand you better if I gave it a shot.”

My mouth fell open. “You chose your specialty to understand me?”

He shrugged and I saw an ocean of pain wash over his eyes.

“You were gone, Mai. What can I say? I was just trying to find a way to be close to you again. Pediatrics was your thing.” He looked away, unable to hold my gaze. “You know how hard it is to grieve the loss of someone who isn’t dead?”

I sat there, silent. Unable to form words.

“It’s feels like,” he let out a humorless laugh, “ ... like you’re being burned alive and you just won’t fucking die.”

“I ... I’m sorry, Jude.”

His blue eyes flashed to meet mine. They were like crystals, refracting in a thousand tiny directions, unfairly beautiful even in the horrible lighting of the dump he’d brought me to.

“Nah. Don’t be. We were always kind of doomed. We both knew that from the start, didn’t we?”

My eyes were pricking with tears. I nodded.

“None of that,” he said. “Don’t cry. We’re not kids anymore.”

I snorted, sniffling back tears. “Adults are allowed to cry. Repressing emotions only makes things worse. I thought you would’ve learned that by now.”

“I’m allowed to cry. Not you. You made your choice. You chose them.”

I frowned. “‘Them?’”

“Yeah. Your family. You were always gonna pick them. I was just the collateral damage, wasn’t I? It was always meant to be me that you’d give up. Not them. Never them. And cool, whatever. That’s your family. You’re allowed to pick them over me—but you made your choice. You don’t get to fucking cry about it. I do.”

A tear slipped down my cheek anyway. I hastily wiped it away.

“It sounds like you hate me,” I said.

Jude’s brows knitted together. “I do. So fucking much. I hate what you did to me.”

I had to wipe more tears from my cheeks.

“But I also love you,” he said, looking straight into my eyes. “When I saw you across the room, it was with your back turned to me. I hoped with every cell in my body that it was you.”

I tried swallowing down the knot in my throat, but it wouldn’t budge.

“You don’t love me,” I said.

“You don’t get to fucking do that,” Jude said heatedly. “You don’t decide how I fucking feel. I love you just as much as I hate you. Wanna know why? Because in a day or two, you’ll get back on a plane and go back to your husband. And me? I’ll be here, loving you with every second of every day and you won’t be here for any of it.”

I clamped a hand over my mouth. The cry that was on its way out was harrowing and raw. I hadn’t allowed myself to feel these feelings in a long, long time. I’d put Jude neatly into a box and stored him somewhere far, far in the back of my mind.

But I couldn’t do that with him sitting right in front of me.

He was real. He was close. He was hurting.

And he was still mine.

“Oh, fuck, Jude,” I said, covering my face with my hands. A sob broke through me, wracking through my entire body like it was a goddamn earthquake. I shook and shook, crying into my hands as the emotions came barreling through the deepest corners of my mind, bursting out of my neat Jude box and forcing me to face it. To face what I’d done.

“Mai.”

“I-I’m sor-sorry,” I managed to choke out. I could barely breathe. All I could do was cry.

I’d hurt him. I’d hurt him so fucking bad.

“Mai. Look at me.”

I couldn’t.

There was a creak as Jude leaned forward and wrapped his hand around my wrist, prying it away from my face. I looked at him, my tear-streaked face probably giving him some sort of sick satisfaction deep down inside.

“So you do care,” he said softly.

I let out a humorless laugh. “Of course I fucking care, Jude. Of course I fucking do.”

“If you say so, Mai.”

“Why did you approach me? Why did you have to shove your way back into my life?” I asked. “Why couldn’t you just let me be?”

“Because I fucking love you, that’s why.”

He was crying, too. Big, strong, cocky Dr. Jude Dawson was sitting across from me with tears streaming down his face.

It fucking broke me.

I grabbed a handful of napkins from a napkin dispenser on the table and held it out to him. He took the napkins, scrunching them up in his fist.

“They’re for wiping your eyes,” I said.

“This shit? It’s not even suitable for wiping my ass. Dry-ass sandpaper crap.”

I laughed—and I mean laughed. Fell forward, clutching my middle as I felt the full force of that dumb belly laugh that only Jude knew how to draw out of me.

“Jesus Christ,” Jude said, chuckling. “Who the fuck let you have a medical degree with that goofy-ass laugh?”

“What...” I tried catching my breath. “What’s my laugh got to do with my medical degree, asshole?”

“You sound unhinged, babe,” he said.

“F-Fuck y-you.” I was still laughing.

I hadn’t laughed like this in ... years. Four, if anyone was counting.

Jude reached out and grabbed my beer and slid it into my hand.

“Drink up, Krusty.”

“Krusty?”

“Yeah,” he said, helping me wrap my fingers around the glass. “Like the fucking clown. ‘Cause that’s what you are, you fucking Bozo.”

I snorted. “Those are two entirely separate characters.”

“Not in your case. Drink up.”

{cb}The Foxhole of Broken Dreams

We camped out at the booth like soldiers in a foxhole. Around us, the earth turned and time flashed forward, but Jude and I were there, stuck in feelings that were four years old. We were at war with our hearts, fighting the same enemy, and yet we were doomed to fail.

Nothing could come of this day. Or night. Or whatever time of day it was.

“Whatever happened to your brother’s stupid dog?” Jude asked, leaning forward. There were no windows in the bar, so there was no telling how much time had passed. Neither of us checked our watches. I was sure neither of us cared.

“Max?”

“Yeah. Dumb fucking Max.”

I laughed. “He’s alright. Getting old. Still dumb as nails, though.”

“And Sohail? How’s he?”

“My brother has exactly two moods these days: tired and tireder.”

“Why? I thought he got lucky with that cushy government job.”