“Then I guess I’ll leave you in peace. Let me know if you need anything.”

He acknowledges her with a minute jut of his chin.

In the living room, she sits on the couch, covering herself with the ivory knitted throw. Coal swiftly occupies her lap and starts kneading her nervous stomach. Something wasn’t right. She could feel it in her gut.

13.

They catch a red-eye flight two days later and taxi onto the runway at Heathrow just after ten a.m. local time.

As they exit the arrivals gate, rolling their suitcases behind them, they spot Nirav’s father and sister, standing to the far right of the crowded rail, waving enthusiastically. They haven’t seen each other since the wedding, almost a year and a half ago.

Maya rushes forward, flings her arms around Nirav, and buries her face in the curve of his neck.

“Isn’t it horrid?” she says. “I haven’t been able to eat a anything all day. I’m sure I’ll faint soon. I’ve been surviving on tea and Hobnobs.”

As Kavita waits for Maya to acknowledge her, she admires her sister-in-law’s hairstyle (pink locks piled in a topknot reminiscent of samurai), makeup (bold cat eye in liquid liner and poppy red lipstick), and outfit (black leather tights and zebra-print faux fur coat), wondering how she managed to muster the energy for such an ensemble while surviving on a meagre diet of tea and Hobnobs. Self-conscious in her jean jacket, faded black cords, and concealer-free face, Kavita touches her hair, wishing it had occurred to her to do more than pull her air-dried waves into a ponytail.

Maya takes a step back and opens her coat. “What do you think?” she asks Nirav. She is wearing a purple t-shirt that says FUCK CANCER in bold pink letters.

“Subtle,” he smirks.

“I’m having a bunch made for everyone. We’ve already donated to a few charities. Everyone’s promised to run in the big cancer relay this year. It’s going to be brill. Of course, you’re going to miss it, like everything else.”

“I’ll wear mine to the funeral,” he winks.

Kavita regards the slogan, impressed by the loudness of their grief, the way it testifies. It’s so loud, it even has t-shirts.