“You look exhausted. Are you working yourself to death again, Naina Kohli?” Yash said, taking in her no doubt red and swollen eyes.

“I think she looks beautiful.” This completely dishonest and mistimed vote of confidence came from Mummy, of course. Even better, she said it with enough defensiveness that Naina wanted to slide under the table.

Yash smiled. He was always wonderfully kind to Mummy. Even though she could exhaust the patience of anyone who hadn’t seen close up what she lived with every day. “Of course, Auntie. Naina always looks lovely. I just meant she looks a little tired and wanted to make sure she isn’t overworking. I should have phrased that better.” He turned to Naina again. “You look tired, Nai, but as beautiful as ever.”

“How you can say that?” Mummy slid an accusatory glance at India, who was even more self-possessed than Yash (how was that even possible?) and met Mummy’s substantially angry eyes with the kind of gentleness worthy of the yoga guru she was. “If you think my Naina is beautiful then why . . . why . . .” A sob broke her voice.

Naina wanted to throw up in the gajjar halwa. The sweetness of the candied carrots turned sharp in her mouth.

“Mummy, please,” she whispered, fighting to keep the embarrassment from coloring her face.

Her mother turned accusatory eyes on her. “I knew your work-work-work mentality would make you lose-lose-lose. Your father was right. Even he doesn’t like your workaholic business.” She pointed at Yash with the spoon.

India and Yash exchanged the most cautious of glances, but the look that passed between them screamed in Naina’s head. Who would’ve thought her mortification had space left to grow? Nonetheless it multiplied manifold.

“I have to make a stop in the restroom. I hope you don’t mind. Lovely seeing you both,” India said gently before she walked away as discreetly as it was possible for a human to.

“Do you mind if I join you for a second?” Yash eased himself into the empty chair at their table and put a hand on Mummy’s.

Mummy’s face lit up. This is not him changing his mind, Mummy. How was it that those words even needed to be said?

“Her father is so much upset. I did not raise her to be like this way, I swear. I’m sorry.” Two fat tears spilled down her rouged cheeks.

“Auntie, please. I’m very proud of Naina’s work. You raised her to be perfect.”

“See you’re feeling regret? You know, I learn in life that it’s never too much late to make change when mistake. Once you marry, then it will be too much late. Then you can’t make mistake correct.”