Kavita approaches the table with a plate of rotis stacked high. “Aren’t we supposed to eat vegetarian while we’re in mourning?”

Maya rolls her eyes. “We aren’t properly religious.”

“Now, now, my darling,” says Mrs. Stone. “I’m sure your blood sugar will balance out once you’ve had something to eat. Everyone gets a tad grouchy on an empty stomach, don’t they?”

As Kavita takes her seat, Mrs. Stone holds out her plate, and says, “A little bit of everything for me, dear.”

Kavita rises to her feet once more, takes Mrs. Stone’s plate, who is seated across from her, and serves, then makes her way around the table, clockwise, and fills the plates of Mr. Stone, Maya, and Nirav. Lastly, she serves herself, a small portion, as usual.

No one speaks for the first few bites, appearing to enjoy the food, except for Maya, who pushes a curried cube of potato around her plate, her face drawn in a familiar dark sulk. Soon she abandons the potato and picks up her mobile. Kavita focuses on her plate and tears into a warm, glistening roti, admiring the simple pleasures of butter and bread.

“Kavita, dear,” Mrs. Stone says over a partial mouthful. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something. I meant to bring it up earlier, actually, but it was so hectic at Nani’s, it didn’t feel like the right time.”

Kavita lifts her gaze and peers across the table, wrists hovering over her plate.

Mrs. Stone gives her husband a serious sidelong look. “We need to confess something to you, don’t we George?”

“Yes, that’s right. We’ve left it too long already.”

Kavita’s heart beats quicker. “What is it?”

“Well, it’s the kind of thing that’s best discussed in person, really. It’s so easy for misunderstandings about these sorts of things to take place. And we wouldn’t want that, now would we? Anyway, you’re here now. So we can speak about things openly, face to face. That’s what families are meant to do. Families can talk about anything.”

Kavita knew for a fact Nirav spoke to his family about precisely nothing, other than football scores and the trials of both English and Canadian weather, but she pushes this reality aside, nodding encouragingly for Mrs. Stone to edit the preamble and go on.

“Well dear, it’s hard to talk about these things, of course. It’s hard to find the right words. Stepping in it seems inevitable. What with the way things are. I suppose people of our generation have never really learned the proper way of approaching these matters. It’s all very delicate, isn’t it?”

With relief, Kavita senses what is coming. The explanation she has been faithfully awaiting since the moment after disbelief was hissed deeply into her ear.