The clang of the bell on the shop door when she unlocked it woke Omkar from his sleep. At first, he thought he had dreamed the sound. The wave of terror did not crush against him until he heard his father’s voice yelling on the street outside.

Omkar nearly bowled his mother over as the sound compelled both of them to rush down the stairs toward the conflict at the same time. He already knew what had happened before he saw either of them. He was already chastising himself for it.

“Papa, stop. Aria, don’t go, please, both of you … Just let me explain.”

“This girl was stealing from us. I found her in the shop. What do you want me to do?” Neeraj said, pointing the rolled-up magazine in her direction.

“I was not stealing. I was asleep,” Aria retorted.

Jarminder stood on the sidewalk in her satin robe, shocked and confused by the situation.

Omkar tried to de-escalate the tension. “Papa, Mama, this is Aria. She’s a friend of mine. We were out so late last night that I decided to have her stay here. It wasn’t her fault. If you want to blame somebody, then blame me,” Omkar pleaded.

“You expect me to believe that you made some friend of yours sleep in the storeroom? So stupid. Just how stupid do you think we are? Why are you covering for this girl? What is she to you?” Neeraj demanded.

Omkar tried another approach, hoping that by appealing to their compassion, he might resolve the conflict. “Look Papa, she has nowhere to go. She’s not like me. She doesn’t have a good family to go home to. Her family treats her badly. You taught me to be a man who doesn’t just stand by and let bad things happen to people. You taught me to do something about it.”

“You are not a man, you’re a little boy. You’re a little boy who lies to his family!” Neeraj yelled. He paced up and down, suddenly aware of the embarrassing position they were all in, standing out on the street in their nightclothes.

Jarminder appealed to Omkar in Punjabi. She told him that he should know better than to lie to his family. She told him that it was not his place to interfere in another family’s business, especially the business of an American family. She explained to him that because an American family is so different to an Indian family, he could never really know what was going on. But even as Jarminder talked, she tried to ignore the nagging feeling that some other truth lay hidden beneath his explanation. You could call it a mother’s intuition. She could feel something between Omkar and the girl now standing before them on the street. She could feel it in the carefulness her son extended toward her.