I looked at my phone and wondered if I could quickly relay everything to Nisha. What was happening here? I needed some female perspective. Why was he looking at me every now and then? Did he think I was pretty? Because I was in a dress and I was wearing make-up? But we’d been having these moments from the night he and I talked about Esha.

I barely ate anything. This wasn’t the time to call Nisha. That would have to wait.

I overheard a couple of women sniggering at something and I frowned. Raghu’s expression changed too when he overheard what they were saying. They were talking about my mother’s pregnancy, and laughing at her.

Raghu’s face darkened as phrases like ‘at her age’, ‘fat’ and ‘what was she thinking’ floated towards us. What was wrong with people, I thought, incensed. Ma was not too old to have a baby!

‘I can’t believe these women have the gall to come to Aunty Chitra’s party and make fun of her!’ Raghu snapped.

I nodded angrily. How dare they!

‘I have half a mind to go and tell them that at least Aunty Chitra has a reason to put on weight. What’s their excuse?’ he said, pushing away his chair slightly and rising.

What? No. That wasn’t right. He did not just say that.

‘Wait!’ I said immediately, putting out my hand and holding his wrist.

He looked down at my hand and I pulled it away, feeling silly. But this needed to be said.

‘Don’t do that, Raghu. You can’t fat-shame someone,’ I said.

He looked confused and then understanding dawned, along with shame.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said sitting down, his gaze lowered.

I looked at his bent head and smiled in relief.

‘I’ve never forgotten the words Esha said about me,’ I told him quietly.

He looked up at me then, his face troubled. We hadn’t talked about this the other night. We had glossed over it and I had hoped I would never have to bring it up. But I wanted him to understand that Esha’s body shaming had become a part of me.

‘I’ve lived with those words these past few years, reminding myself of them whenever I felt myself craving food,’ I said. ‘Fat bitch. Ugly cow. Ms Piggy.’

His eyes grew wide and he shook his head.

I didn’t let him speak. ‘I’ve worked so hard all these years to stop hearing those words whenever I see myself in the mirror, Raghu, but I still hear them sometimes.’

‘You’re none of those things,’ he said in a fierce whisper as he leaned forward and covered my hand with his.

My heart leapt.

Papa let out a big snore and we were both startled. We had almost forgotten that Papa was still at the table.