Anjali Auntie sighed to see me on her doorstep. Wordlessly, I looked at the open house sign, then back at her. She nodded slowly, and I began to cry. She pressed my forehead to her chest and her hair brushed my cheek and there she was, forgiving, as only one’s own mother can. In the hours and days after Shruti’s death, she had said weepy things—how it was her fault, not mine, her mistake, not mine, she was the adult, had failed me, us, failed, period.

“You’ll catch cold,” she said. “Come. Let me get you a towel.”

“Is Anita here?” I sniffed, following her inside.

“She’s here,” Anjali Auntie said warily, as though to add, That’s between you two. Because Anita had not spoken to me since the moment the Dayals arrived home from New Jersey to find me rocking madly on their doorstep, hacking and hiccupping as I tried to explain what I had done.

There had only been unanswered instant messages:

neil_is_indian: anita

neil_is_indian: if you rly didnt want to talk to me youd have blocked

me neil_is_indian: if you never wanna talk to me again

neil_is_indian: id understand

neil_is_indian: but i think u do

I lifted the trophy. The metal was cheap and covered in fingerprints. Anjali Auntie brushed it with her thumb like she was rubbing a stain from a child’s face. I didn’t want it in my house, couldn’t bear the sudden warming of my father’s expression, his monstrous validation.

She bit her lower lip. “Towel,” she said again, and turned to her bedroom.

“Anjali!” It was a man’s booming voice.

The Dayal house had an echoey tendency, and big sasquatchy footsteps resounded. It had been some years since I’d seen Pranesh Uncle. To be honest, I had mostly forgotten him until he manifested in the formal living room. He was plump and entirely bald, his scalp recalling a glass egg. The skin below his eyes looked ink smudged. His lips were bloodless and chapped. He wore a baggy black T-shirt reading SF GIANTS and cargo shorts. I wondered if he had ever been handsome.

“Neeraj, you’ve grown,” he said. “Haven’t seen my wife.”

“Hi, Uncle. She went to get me a towel.”

“You’re all wet. Been dancing in the rain like some Bollywood star, have you.”