‘It’s cornflour,’ she continued. ‘I weigh the eggs first and use as much American flour, sugar and butter as the weight of the eggs. Then I take out two to four tablespoons of the American flour and I replace it with cornflour. It’s a secret, don’t tell anyone. I’m only telling you because we’re going to be related. My friends in Kandy taught me the recipe.’

While Nala and his mother were distracted by the cake, Siva cleared his throat nervously, stood up and offered Priya his gift. She smiled shyly, accepted the large box and stood holding it, unsure of what to do next.

‘Well, open it, Acca, it looks exciting,’ Dhara prompted her.

His mother flinched at the word ‘exciting’, and Nala shook her head too late at her daughters. It was not polite to open the gift until the guests had left, but Priya’s fingers were faster than her mother’s cautionary look. Radha flinched again as Priya pulled out a plastic heart. Chaotically, pieces started falling off.

Both Siva and Priya bent down, chasing after the pieces that were rolling everywhere. ‘It’s not broken,’ he muttered, more to his mortified mother than to Priya. His face was red underneath his dark skin. ‘It’s detachable. The parts are detachable; I thought it would be helpful for anatomy. You can see the four chambers, the atria and the ventricles; that’s the superior vena cava right there, it’s very detailed,’ he kept going.

Please stop talking, he said to himself, please stop talking now. He couldn’t look up at his mother or Priya, instead concentrating on the pieces of a plastic heart scattered over the beautiful woven rug on the floor.

Suddenly he heard laughter. Priya was taking the pieces from his hands and putting the chambers of the heart back together as he continued to collect them. She was beautiful when she laughed; and was laughing so hard that she had started to cry.

Rajan returned to the room to find his daughter and her prospective husband laughing and reconstructing a plastic human heart together. He sat down but the letter wasn’t with him. Nala looked at him, one eyebrow raised artfully. He ignored her question and reached for a piece of butter cake. Siva watched the steam rise from the cake—it was still warm. Rajan smiled at him and then spoke to his mother, ‘Shall we talk about the wedding?’

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