‘Aunty V, please. When I was twelve, a thin and pretty girl called me a “fat bitch”, “ugly cow” and “Ms Piggy” because of the way I looked. Don’t tell me that the confidence in my mind could have shut it down,’ I snapped at her.

Aunty V’s face paled. ‘Who . . .’ she trailed off, because I was shaking my head.

‘It’s not important. I have to go now,’ I said, and walked away to my room.

I was breathing heavily, my mind crowded with thoughts. Despite my anger at her, I realized that she was trying to help. She was trying to make me see my body and not cringe. To make me understand that my body was not my enemy. Was it working? I didn’t know.

As I changed my clothes, I paused in front of the mirror.

Fat bitch, the voice whispered in my head again.

‘Ya, so what?’ I snapped at it viciously.

I stepped away from the mirror and the voices faded. I dressed quickly because I had received a couple of texts from Nisha, asking where I was.

By the time I reached the coffee shop, my anger had cooled off, but Aunty V’s words still played on my mind. I pushed open the door and saw the two of them talking to each other intently. I felt that second-long moment of resentment, which I buried as I joined them.

They both got up to hug me and sat down and continued talking about something exam-related. When they realized I wasn’t joining in, they stopped and turned to me.

‘What’s going on?’ Nisha asked, reaching out and squeezing my hand.

I told them my plans of taking a gap year. Anirudh was aghast, as expected, but even Nisha looked shocked.

‘But you’ll be a year behind all of us!’ she protested.

‘It’s not like we’re going to be in the same class or college, so how does it matter?’ I asked her.

‘That’s true. But . . . I don’t feel too good about this,’ she said, frowning.

Anirudh kept shaking his head, as though still in shock. ‘This Raghu fellow has really messed with your mind,’ he said finally.

I shot a look at him and sighed. ‘Stop being such a thatha, Anirudh. He didn’t say anything. I just realized this is what made sense for me,’ I told them.

Anirudh made a face as he always did whenever I called him a grandfather. ‘Of course he doesn’t need to say anything. You’re just following in his footsteps,’ he said, as though it was obvious.

‘I’m not,’ I said crossly. ‘And even if I were, it’s fine. I’m just taking time out to decide what I want. What’s wrong with that?’