I had been angry because he had witnessed my humiliation back then and had tried to talk to me, but I had been too mortified to face him. Well, you can face him now, a voice in my head whispered. You’re no longer the same person.

My jaw tightened. Anger helped me cope when I needed it. If I let go of it, I might do something stupid.

I measured out the demerara sugar into the bowl and started beating the butter and sugar together. Since the butter was still hard, bits of it flew out of the bowl.

I sensed a presence at the door. Raghu was standing there, arms crossed, looking at me in an infuriatingly amused manner.

‘What?’ I snapped, focusing once more on the butter.

‘Um, I remember you teaching me that the butter had to be soft before you beat it,’ he said, walking up to where I was standing.

I backed away the slightest bit. ‘Yeah, I don’t have time for that,’ I muttered. ‘Ma wants these cookies like yesterday.’

He was still standing near me and it made me feel weird inside. I shouldn’t be feeling this way. This was Raghu, my childhood friend. But he was no longer that boy. And I was no longer that girl.

‘What are you doing?’ I asked him.

‘Just getting things ready for you,’ he replied, as he measured out the flour and sieved it into a bowl. He looked around for something.

‘Cookie sheets?’ he asked.

I didn’t even know if we had any cookie sheets. I’d never used the oven in this house.

‘Where are your baking supplies? I can’t see anything,’ he said, hunting through the shelves.

I stopped the electric beater and looked at him as he searched the kitchen.

‘You’ll have to ask Ma,’ I told him.

He looked at me. There was a little flour in his hair. How did he always manage to get flour there, I wondered.

‘Why don’t you know?’ he asked.

‘I don’t bake anymore,’ I told him, switching on the beater once more and focusing on the butter and sugar.

‘Then why are you baking cookies?’ he asked, going back to his hunt. He finally unearthed an old cookie sheet from some shelf.

‘For this stupid baby. Why else?’ I muttered savagely.

He washed the pan efficiently and turned to look at me as he dried it with a cloth.

‘Stupid baby?’ he asked.

I clenched my teeth.

‘Is that how you feel about the baby?’ he persisted.

‘Why? What does it matter to you?’

He looked taken aback at my vehemence. ‘I thought you’d be thrilled to have a sibling.’

‘Shows how little you know me,’ I scoffed.

‘True,’ he admitted and went back to drying the cookie sheet.