She looks up at me, her eyes brimming with tears, desperation on her face.

‘I don’t want to … I can barely manage with three kids … I won’t be able to work while this baby is small—how will I earn?’

I reel with all this information. Perhaps I can help her out a bit monetarily, but I know it’s not going to be enough. Despite my feelings about the abortion, I don’t say anything—how can I preach when I am not in her situation?

Even as I consider what to say to Mini, my phone beeps. It’s a text message from Sid—he’s at the airport and traffic permitting, he’ll be home in an hour.

The message sends me into a panic—I’m not ready yet!

I don’t know what to do. I do want to help Mini but I don’t want to think about it right now. I have plans for the evening.

‘Can we discuss this tomorrow?’ I ask Mini.

‘Sorry didi, I really did not mean to burden you,’ Mini says. She has stopped crying but there are occasional sniffles.

‘I will go now, I’ll figure out something.’ She mumbles a namaste and walks out of the house, gently closing the door behind her.

I feel like a heel for not helping her—but what could I have possibly done today? I’m not in the right frame of mind for problem-solving. However, I am going to try and find a solution for Mini—just not today.

For now, I need to have a shower and figure out my own problem—how to seduce my husband?

It’s been five hours since Sid sent that earlier message. Apparently he met some old college mate at the airport and decided to go into the Radisson hotel for a drink. He’s sent me a message now and asked me to not wait up for him, to go to bed.

I am not going to, though—I’ve put in way too much effort to just go to bed.

It’s not fair that … that I sit here in my dressing gown, in these ridiculous undergarments—see-through lace bra and undies and the lace is actually really itchy—when Sid is drinking at a bar.

He’s drinking at a bar when I haven’t seen him—or spoken to him much—for six days. Doesn’t he want to come home? How can a friend you haven’t even met all these years be more important than your wife?

I am not going to bed. I am going to wait for him and I am going to give him a piece of my mind when he comes back home.

Sid’s back and he is so drunk he—he banged into a dining chair and tripped on his trousers when he tried taking them off.

‘So sorry should have come home earlier,’ Sid says slurring.