For a second Naina thought about stopping her, but the sheer volume of excitement on Mummy’s face was too much to dash, so she helped. Yup, that was just the kind of invertebrate creature she was. There was so little pleasure she gave her mother that she had to indulge her where it was possible.

She could only manage one cushion before impotent rage took over and she left the rest to her mother. As Mummy pulled Naina’s beloved covers off and replaced them with the soulless gray ones, Naina poured tea through the strainer into two cups.

“Last night you danced. Have you started enjoying all that dancing-shancing now?”

Handing her mother a cup and taking a giant gulp from her own to burn down the groan that rose up her throat, Naina smiled and nodded and was happy to have her urge to throttle Vansh restored. She’d known that dancing when her mother was present was not a good idea. Why had she allowed him to drag her onto the dance floor? The number of parties that involved some form of dancing that her mother could have her invited to was boggling. Naina would poke her eyes out if she had to go to even one.

She was going to kill Vansh.

“So much you used to dislike, no?” Mummy made a satisfied face at the tea, which would usually have made Naina irrationally pleased with herself, but not when her heart was thudding with the possibility of what this visit might actually be about. “That Vansh, he’s very good on dance floors.”

The thudding in Naina’s heart sped up. Her mother’s bottle-brown eyes studied her with all their usual transparency.

Naina didn’t respond. She picked up a cushion her mother had left naked and shoved it inside a stiff gray cover.

“You never did dancing and all that with Yash.” A disappointed brow was raised. “So much more serious person, no? So much different those two brothers are.”

No kidding.

This was not the time to feel his muscled thigh between her legs. Stop it.

“Isn’t that normal though, for all siblings to be different?” Sometimes Naina amazed herself with her ability to keep her voice from showing the things she was feeling. They should give Oscars out for real-life performances. She’d have more than Meryl Streep.

“But usually only little bit different.” Her mother made a pinching gesture, then flew her arms apart. “These two brothers? Lots and lots different.”

Dear God, her mother wanted to say something uncomfortable. Which meant she was going to go round and round in circles until she found a way to say it without saying it. “Oh, you know what? I forgot, your Navdeep Mamu sent another picture of the doctor. Oh ho, he’s not doctor. Even better. He’s surgeon. Like Shree. He’s general.”