Rajan had first been in shock, then in denial. Arathi had almost fainted and it was only a strong filter coffee consumed in the safety of her own kitchen hours later that set her straight again.

Two days later, it was Habib and Inaya’s turn. As soon as Habib broke the news, Humaira started chanting prayers under her breath and wouldn’t listen to anything further that Habib had to say. Irfan simply pretended that he had urgent work calls to attend to and entertained no further discussion on the matter either.

Jai and Inaya had been in touch with each other over email and instant messaging, ever since Jai’s return.

‘How did the Big Announcement go? My parents may need aftershock therapy,’ wrote Jai.

‘Daadi has not stopped chanting prayers,’ Inaya wrote back. ‘And Abba is talking to imaginary people on the phone to deflect any further conversation on the topic.’

Jai grinned as he read this. ‘Sounds familiar. Hey, thanks again for the Nabeel Said thing. She is such a star.’

‘Glad it worked out. She seemed to like all your suggestions. You should follow-up on your café idea. You’d be okay at it.’

‘Thanks,’ typed Jai, not used to anything even slightly resembling a compliment from Inaya. ‘You should keep going with tape-ball. And if you come to India, we’ll go find Ghulan Joswami for you.’

Inaya burst out laughing as she read that.

‘It’s Jhulan Goswami, but thanks for the offer. Although judging by my family’s reactions, the India trip may never happen.’

Deadlock

Rawalpindi, Pakistan

An awkwardness lingered in the air between Humaira, Habib and Irfan. There hadn’t been a full-blown discussion of the matter—neither at the airport, nor on the flight, nor at home.

Inaya dreaded mealtimes. Dinner conversations were stilted and perfunctory, skimming the surface, skirting the periphery—as if Habib’s revelation had made them strangers all of a sudden.

‘How was school, Inaya?’ asked Habib.

‘It was good, Daada.’

Silence.

‘Can I pass anyone the mutton curry?’ asked Habib, looking at Humaira and Irfan.

‘No, thank you,’ said Humaira. ‘I’m sure we can help ourselves.’

Irfan looked up from his plate.

‘Excuse me, I have a work call,’ he said, pushing his chair back.

‘But it’s so late . . . ’ protested Habib.

‘It’s New York,’ said Irfan abruptly and left the room.

Habib fell silent. Humaira stole a glance at him and it was then that Inaya knew that the showdown was imminent.

‘I can’t believe that you have lived your whole life as a lie, Habib,’ she said, without looking up from her plate.

Habib looked at her, pained.

‘I was six years old when I was adopted, Humaira. How is the time before that my whole life?’

‘You could have still told me.’

‘I thought I had lost everyone from my birth family, Humaira. Please understand I wasn’t trying to deceive you. It was just very difficult to revisit that chapter of my life.’

‘And now? What happens now that you’ve reopened this chapter?’