He was pink and scrawny and had a shock of black hair. He was beautiful. I was overcome with emotion. Little twit. I couldn’t imagine I’d hated him when I’d first heard that Ma was pregnant.

Papa’s eyes were wet and shiny.

Ma was in pain when we saw her, but so relieved and happy—and so were we. Everything was fine. Everything was good.

Nani tried to ruin the moment by saying, thank goodness, finally, it was a boy. But Papa asked Nani to step out with him for a bit. I don’t know what he said, but Nani kept her mouth shut for the rest of the visit.

Since only one person could stay back at the hospital, Ma said she wanted Aunty V and insisted the rest of us go back home.

Papa, Nani, Raghu and I were quiet on the way back home. Nani went off immediately to the guest room to sleep. Wordlessly, Raghu and I set about cleaning the remnants of our disastrous dinner. I was exhausted and exhilarated at the same time. It was like an adrenaline high.

Papa came in in his pajamas and looked at us sheepishly. ‘I’m still hungry,’ he said.

‘We just packed away everything,’ I told him, annoyed.

‘Not a problem, Uncle. I can heat up the parathas and the gravy for you,’ Raghu offered.

I narrowed my eyes. He was clearly trying to get into my father’s good books. The thought amused and warmed me at the same time.

‘I have a better idea. Have this instead,’ I said, offering Papa the salad I had been eating. The expression on his face was priceless. ‘Let Raghu go to sleep. He’s tired,’ I said firmly.

‘No, I’m fine,’ Raghu insisted, but I shook my head.

Papa took the salad bowl and went away, muttering to himself.

Raghu and I were alone in the kitchen, as we had been countless other times these past few months. But this was different. He knew it and I knew it. But he didn’t make a move, probably because he was worried Papa would stroll back any moment.

‘You don’t have to butter up Papa, you know,’ I said softly.

Raghu glanced at me quickly, a little surprised. ‘Um, I wasn’t . . . err . . .’ he trailed off.

I cocked my head slightly. ‘Really? You would have heated everything and served it to him if I wasn’t your girlfriend?’ I asked.

‘Of course,’ he said. ‘It’s not like I was trying to impress Uncle.’

‘Really?’ I insisted, my arms crossed and he finally grinned.

‘Okay, okay, you’re right,’ he admitted. ‘But even if you weren’t my girlfriend, I’d have done it. Because I’d be hoping to make a good impression on you.’ His eyes glittered as he said that.

‘I was thinking of sitting outside in the garden for a bit,’ I said pointedly.