“You haven’t told Dad about all this, have you?”

“Of course not, Reena. No one needs Dad’s lectures about the face you show the world.”

Hallelujah for that.

“So,” Saira said, putting her phone down, “I’m only doing the appetizer section now to pitch to the publishing people, but if they bite, can you help with my mains? I don’t want to go completely meat-free, but primarily plant-based—”

Reena put her hand up. “Saira, wait.” They’d been pretty honest with each other today, probably more than they ever had. Maybe now while Saira’s lips were loose, it was time to ask the question that Reena had been avoiding for months.

“One question. Is this wise? I mean with your problems, with you know, your—”

Saira cut her off before she could finish the sentence. “My mental health?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? I’m not hiding anything. I’m not ashamed of my diagnosis.”

Reena tilted her head. “I don’t actually know what your diagnosis was.” How weird was it that they’d never talked about it?

Saira shrugged. “When I was in the outpatient program I was diagnosed with depression and an unspecified eating disorder. I was obsessed with the healthiness of what I was eating, not depriving myself for weight loss. Did you know mental illness runs in our family?”

“No. I didn’t know that.” She took a breath. “Did you know I used to take antidepressants?” Reena couldn’t believe she’d told her sister that. No one in her family knew.

Saira tilted her head sympathetically. “No. You should have told me.”

“It’s been a while.” Reena shrugged. “Are you okay now? I mean, you’re still kinda food obsessed.”

“I’m a lot better. Reena, you don’t know how bad it was in my head. All food felt evil to me then. But now it’s about a healthy balance. And finding the joy in food again. Doing this cookbook and developing recipes is helping me with that. I have a good relationship with food and wellness, instead of an obsession.” Maybe to prove her point, she took a cracker from the baking tray and popped it in her mouth. And, true, old Saira would never eat crackers. Even homemade ones.

It was interesting to learn that Saira also looked for joy in food when her mood was bad. Reena had always baked bread when her mood was low. She even started her old blog when her life was in the shits.

The blog that Reena folded indirectly because of Saira.

But it was fine. Saira had been sick. And Reena was proud of how far her sister had come. Proud of how open and unashamed she was, and proud of her finding healthy ways to change her life for the better.

What happened to Reena was no big deal.

No.

It was a big deal. A big deal that no one in this family ever actually talked about what was going on. Saira never telling Reena about her relationship problems with Joran or about her diagnoses. And Reena never telling any of them about her own struggles. Or her dreams and how hurt she was when she lost them. She was tired of everyone hiding their feelings under the rugs, hoping no one noticed they were far from smooth on the floor.