The worst part of being poor was that she had grown up in a home where money wasn’t an issue. Had she had a child with the right man, she would have all the moral and financial support she needed. It broke her heart to think that Dayal would never meet his aunt or his grandparents, or cousins when her sister had children, if she hadn’t already. Her child would never step inside the house that she had grown up in. Being on the outside of their world didn’t stop her from thinking of them. If anything, it made her think of them more. Between thoughts of Dayal, and money, and fear of the future, she thought of her father’s smile and the reassuring warmth of her mother’s embrace. She thought of her sister’s side of their bedroom with posters on the walls and books piled beneath her bed to save space, and the way she would lie on the bed with her nose between the folds of a book to breathe in the scent. At twenty-four years old, Neena was entirely alone except for Dayal. She had lost her family, her first love, and now Richard. And whatever was waiting for her on the other side of the door threatened to tear her remaining strength to shreds.

She eyed the cars in the drive and spotted her uncle’s Mercedes, a maroon nineties model but mercilessly clean.

This wasn’t a family trip. This was damage control.

Neena looked at the lit window and wondered what was going on behind the curtains. She didn’t have to find out – she could walk away and never return. She didn’t owe them anything. But hearing her father’s voice had made her realise how much she needed them, even if they hated her. To see their faces one last time would keep her going. She needed them – she needed to go home.

Neena crossed the street and walked up the driveway with her heart racing. She swallowed to force down the nausea, but the taste kept coming. Her gut was telling her to turn around, but her heart longed for her to step inside. By the time she reached the door and raised her hand to the bell, it was like they were trying to split her in two.

The moment she rang the doorbell, she couldn’t go back. She looked at her car parked across the street. All she had waiting for her after she picked up Dayal from the crèche was a cold house and a bleak future, and a part of her hoped that her family had decided to take her back after all this time.

She rang the doorbell and closed her eyes, willing herself to stop shaking.

When the door opened, she knew immediately that she had made a mistake.