“No, don’t worry about it. Dad’s doing fine, but they’re only letting in two guests per patient in the building. Zayan and Rohan are in there now. I’m in the parking lot.”

Ah. That’s where Rohan had gone. “What did the test results say?”

“Results aren’t in yet. They said we could bring him home when we have them. Dad’s spirits are good. I know you were here late last night, so rest up. You’re on Dad duty alone once we head back home, so let us take this shift.”

Okay, then. It was great to hear Dad was fine, and she supposed it was good that her sister was helping, but it felt a little weird to be told not to bother coming to the hospital. Then again, Rohan was there. Maybe he didn’t want to see her.

“Okay. I need to go get Darcy, anyway.” Kamila swung her feet to the floor. “Call me if you need me to pick anyone up, or if Dad needs anything, or—”

“Don’t worry, Kam. We got this covered. Talk soon.” Shelina disconnected the call.

Kamila got up. After a stop in the bathroom, she headed downstairs in her socked feet. The house felt so weird for a Saturday morning. Quiet. No dog jumping on her. No Dad reading his news sites and drinking chai. No Rohan criticizing her cooking. She peeked out a window—her car was still here. He must have taken the subway or an Uber.

He’d left without saying anything. Not really much of a surprise, as he’d clearly (or at least hopefully) realized that sharing a bed with his brother’s wife’s sister whose father had been hospitalized with a panic attack wasn’t the wisest move. Kissing her was probably an even worse idea.

After making coffee, she texted Asha to let her know she’d be over in half an hour to get Darcy, and then headed to her bedroom.

While she was dressing, she thought about what to do about the Rohan situation. She didn’t want to ignore what happened—namely, because she didn’t like the implication that she felt any shame over locking lips with him. That was the furthest thing from the truth.

Kamila was long past any shame for her lifestyle, and that included her sexual activities. Mom wasn’t around to call Kamila a harlot anymore, and Mom was wrong anyway. Kamila played safe and consensual, and she wasn’t really all that promiscuous anyway, not that there would be anything wrong with it if she were. She just knew what she liked and wasn’t shy about it. She realized she talked a good game and could be a bit of a flirt, but she liked to think she didn’t cross any lines or lead anyone on.