Unfortunately the newspaper was black and white, so you couldn’t see the sari colours in the photographs, but she was relieved that she had kept her eyes open and her smile natural. The headline of the article read, ‘Love Conquers All’ and the piece was about the union between two high profile families from different sides of the ethnic divide. Rajan read it and scoffed, ‘I told you it would be frivolous.’ There was of course a large photograph of President JR Jayewardene, blessing the new and nervous couple.

Nandan came in and sat down on the floor beside her.

‘Appa has asked if you and Shiranthi would like to move into the apartment above. It’s almost finished,’ Nala said, picking up the paper scraps around her.

‘I thought he was building that so he could rent it out,’ Nandan replied, helping her. The two-bedroom apartment was attached to the main house by a common side door and staircase.

‘I think he’d like you to stay close. We could have meals together and see each other all the time—but only if you like …’

Nala found her new daughter-in-law’s company surprisingly lovely. Initially, she had been wary. She knew what would happen if she didn’t keep Shiranthi happy. Sons sided with their wives; it was just the natural order of things, except in the case of Rajan who always sided with his mother.

Nandan pressed her hand to his cheek.

‘You smell like Oil of Ulay. Shiranthi likes the bottle you gave her, thank you, Amma. Thank you for everything,’ he said, kissing her palm.

‘You are very welcome, mahan,’ she replied. She pointed to the headline of the article and they both laughed, wiping away their tears.

•

Dhara heard the screams cutting through the sterile walls. They rushed down the corridor towards her, reminding her that she was next. She twisted and turned on the table, but the men had bound her tightly. She felt hands on her ankles, pulling her legs apart. She bent her legs inwards, desperately trying to lock her knees together. The hands yanked harder, opening her body up to them. She kicked against them, against the pain when it started.

Just relax, the voice said.

If you fight it, it will hurt more, another voice said.

A stranger’s hands reached inside and pulled back the soft, fleshy folds of her. All that was inside was revealed.

She kicked again and screamed, something low and guttural, a growl from the base of her throat. She tried to jump off the table. People in uniform swirled around and closed in. Hands on her ankles, her wrists pulled back again and strapped to the table with leather cuffs. She was a starfish, trapped and taken out of water. She gasped and heaved, struggling to breathe. She was dying.