She huffs, slides back in her chair and crosses her arms together. We managed to find two seats together at a table where we recognize absolutely nobody. I look around, trying to locate Ammu and Abbu, but there are so many people milling about that it’s almost impossible.

“Maybe we should get up and find them?” Priti asks. It’s kind of the last thing I want to do. I’m weirdly happy to be separated from them for once, and to not have our conversation hanging over our heads like a dark, unspoken cloud.

“No, we’re here, we might as well stay put.” I settle into my chair, setting my beaded gold clutch on the table beside me.

“Good idea, we probably wouldn’t find seats together again anyway. They’re about to serve the food.”

“How can you tell?”

“I have a nose for these things.”

I catch a glimpse of Sunny Apu on stage, with her new husband sitting at her side. They’re both smiling.

“What was that in the backroom?” I ask Priti.

“What?”

I duck my head close to her, aware that the Auntie who is sitting in front of us just turned to give us an interested look. I immediately peg her as the gossiping type.

“You know, how Sunny Apu looked … kind of … I don’t know, panicky.”

“She’s about to be married, of course she’s panicky. It’s a lifelong commitment.” Priti’s voice is louder than I’m comfortable with. The Auntie in front of us isn’t looking anymore, but she’s edged closer to us somehow. I have a feeling she’s straining to listen.

“I know people do get panicky. I know why. But I just didn’t think she would be.” I lower my voice further.

Priti doesn’t get the hint. She shrugs and says, “It’s normal. Just because she already knew Bhaiya—sorry, Dulabhai—before the wedding doesn’t mean she wouldn’t be nervous.”

Except, that’s exactly what I thought would be the case. She’d known him for so long, since they were kids. If you could know someone for that long and still get nervous at the wedding, what hope did the rest of us have?