Sunday went by in planning the reunion. But I didn’t care. I was walking around the house, thrilled at the thought that Raghu was going to be here for the next two weeks. I had Death by Chocolate last night after years and it was as awesome as it had always been. I managed to stop after a couple of spoons.

I woke up and exercised for an extra half hour to compensate for it but I was feeling light inside. The self-hate, my companion for the past five years, didn’t feel as heavy as it did before. Or maybe it was there but I had succeeded in pushing it into a corner for the moment.

Maybe it showed on my face because Raghu looked at me strangely. ‘What’s going on?’ he asked me as he made breakfast for everyone. He was chopping onions quickly and efficiently and I admired how he did it—ruthless speed and excellent coordination.

Papa was sitting at the kitchen table and looked grumpy as he read the newspaper. I ignored him.

‘Nothing,’ I shrugged, as I got out the dosa maavu that Meena Akka had prepared and kept in the fridge and took it over to him. He had announced that he was making masala dosa and I had offered to help, just to spend a little extra time with him.

After lunch today, he was going to meet Aunty V’s friend who had got him an interview with a chef at a restaurant in Indiranagar.

‘You look happy.’

‘I am,’ I said, glancing over at Papa and then looking back at him. ‘Anything you want me to do to help?’

‘Peel the potatoes?’

Ma and Aunty V walked inside, still talking and joined Papa at the table. The two of us worked in companionable silence as our parents made plans for the reunion. Raghu shared a droll look with me and I grinned back at him.

Breakfast was amazing even though I ate only half a masala dosa.

‘Let Ananya make some so you can eat too, Raghu,’ Ma suggested.

I looked at her face, shiny with happiness. Her worry lines seemed to have faded and even though she was tired, she looked happy. I glanced at her stomach, at the life growing inside, and for the first time since this news, I felt protective, not just towards Ma but also towards that little thing inside, whatever it was—boy or girl. I no longer thought of it as ‘that stupid baby’.

‘Yeah, I’ll make some for you,’ I offered.

He shook his head. ‘You haven’t eaten yet.’

‘Oh, I’m done,’ I told him quickly. My stomach protested.