‘I know, mami. And I’m grateful. You are my family and I will miss you. It’s not just about Amma—it’s about Appa too. I owe it to him to stay. I want to be here for him. I want to be here with him. After everything that happened to him—to us—I can’t leave.’

Nala tried again. ‘I loved Mohan, and I have no doubt that he would want you to be safe and happy and away from this place.’

‘That’s probably right, mami. Parents want that for their children, but children want to be with their parents.’

‘Promise me then, promise me you won’t go to the north. Stay in Colombo, it will be safer here,’ Nala insisted.

‘Mami …’

Nala caught her hand as she tried to work, forcing Dhara to look at her. ‘You must promise me that you will not fight—I’m not your mother but I love you, Dhara, and you owe me some obedience too. Promise me you will not go to Jaffna—that you will live. I couldn’t bear it if …’

‘I promise,’ she said reluctantly. She wanted to wrap a bandage tightly around the longing that seeped out of Dhara like a constant, open wound. It wouldn’t heal, it couldn’t be cauterised, the pain could only be managed.

She clipped the edges of the bandage in place and admired her handiwork.

•

Rajan checked her charts again. She shook her head at him, but the tight skin on her neck wouldn’t allow the full movement she needed to convey her irritation.

‘Your blood work is normal, Nala. You’re lucky not to have any secondary infections,’ he spoke into the clipboard.

‘I know that,’ she replied. ‘Dr Wijesinghe explained that to me an hour ago.’

‘Did his wife bring you those?’ he asked, eyeing the dodol, milk toffee and other gifts on her side table.

‘This will be the first case where Type 2 diabetes has resulted from a third-degree burn,’ he said disapprovingly.

‘Nandan says you’re not sleeping well.’ She reached forward to snatch the clipboard away from him. ‘He says you go to bed very late and wake up very early.’

When he said nothing, she continued. ‘He says he can hear you in the middle of the night, walking around. What are you doing?’

‘I’m thinking,’ he replied tersely.

‘You think a lot.’

‘I do.’

‘What are you thinking about?’ she tried again.

‘I’m thinking about why my son has nothing better to do than monitor my nocturnal activities.’

‘You admit, then, that you have nocturnal activities when you should be resting?’ she replied.

‘You should have been a prosecutor.’

‘Yes, I should and could have been many things. Instead, I’m your wife, and I’d like to know what you’re doing up at midnight, Rajan.’

He took the clipboard back and held it tightly against his chest.