And, as expected, the heady scent of strong chai and spices eased her annoyance as she walked into the house after driving the ten minutes while fantasizing about being an orphan. She inhaled deeply as she removed her shoes. This. This was why she decided to come today. Nothing like her mother’s cooking to ease stress, even stress induced by her parents themselves.

Of course, Reena knew she was deluding herself. She hadn’t decided to come to brunch for the puri any more than she had decided to come for the family judgments disguised as scintillating conversation. The word decided implied free will. And when it came to family, free will was nothing but a convenient illusion Reena created for her own sanity.

She operated under the assumption that giving in to these insignificant demands on her life would trick them into leaving her alone with the big stuff. It sort of worked. She’d stood her ground on some big decisions. Like her decision not to work in the family real-estate development business. Her decision not to live at home, despite being single. And her controversial decision several months ago to insist her sister move out of her apartment. But it was becoming harder to make her parents understand that she had no interest in any of the approved Muslim men they had been parading in front of her since she reached the age of twenty-five. Including this new overseas model.

But at least the puri helped make up for this emotional torture. She took another from the platter and added it to her plate heaped full of channa masala.

“Reena,” her father said, pouring himself more chai, “I don’t know if I told you, but my friend Shiroz from Tanzania is investing in the Diamond building project. His son Nadim has come from Dar es Salaam to work with me. I’ve put him in your building.”

Dar es Salaam, Reena’s parents’ hometown, was the largest city in Tanzania, a country with an active and vibrant minority Gujarati-Indian population. The Diamond project was her father’s biggest real-estate development to date—a large retail/ residential building north of Toronto. She knew there were foreign investors from Africa involved but hadn’t heard about the involvement of any flirty beefcakes who sounded more British than Tanzanian.

“I hope you will make Nadim feel welcome. He’s a very smart man. Graduated from the London School of Economics. He’s religious and well-mannered, and has a promising future ahead of him. You two have much in common.”

Proof that Dad knew nothing about his middle child. No one who really knew Reena would call her well-mannered. Her sweetness ran surface-level only. And clearly, her father didn’t know Nadim too well either. The man swore like a Manchester United hooligan and invited her out for a pint upon first meeting, all while holding a six-pack of beer. Reena had nothing against drinking, as evidenced by her low-key hangover most Sunday brunches, but in her religious Muslim father’s opinion, well-mannered and respectful meant no alcohol.