I stand up, though it feels wrong. Like a trap.

The mug of tea burns into my skin as I grab hold of it and carry it upstairs, stealing glances back the whole way up. I’m waiting—hoping—for them to call me back. But there’s nothing except silence.

“I told them,” I say as soon as Priti slips in the door. It’s just past nine o’clock. I don’t even give her a chance to breathe.

She blinks at me. “You told who what?”

“Ammu and Abbu. About me. Being a lesbian.”

“Oh,” she says. Then, “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“What did they say?”

“Nothing. They said … ‘okay, you can go.’ And that was it.”

“Wait, you actually told them?”

“I just said I did, didn’t I?”

“I thought maybe … you were kidding. Like an April Fool’s joke or something.”

“It’s … August.”

She rolls her eyes and shuts the bedroom door behind her before flopping onto the bed beside me.

“You okay?”

I shrug. I’ve spent the last few hours trying to figure out exactly that. I’d spent years going through all of the various scenarios of coming out to my parents. None of those scenarios had included silence. My parents have always been forthcoming enough about their thoughts and feelings; why is now the moment they choose to shut themselves up?

“Apujan,” Priti says, wrapping her arms around me and resting her chin on my shoulder. “It’ll be okay. They probably just need to think, you know?”

“Yeah.” I want to believe her. I almost do.

To distract me Priti pulls up a movie on Netflix, and the two of us slip under my duvet. Our heads touch lightly as we lean against the headboard. Priti loops her arms through mine. There is something comforting about having her there; I almost forget about the rest of it. The two of us must drift off to sleep because the next thing I remember is blinking my eyes open.

Priti is softly snoring beside me, her face pressed against my arm. I push her off—gently. She groans a little but doesn’t wake up. I sit up, rubbing my eyes. The clock on my phone flashes 1:00 a.m. There’s a murmur of voices off somewhere in the distance. That must be what woke me.

I crawl out of bed and push my door open a smidge, letting in the air and the voices of my parents. They’re speaking in low, careful voices just loud enough for me to make out.

“Too much freedom and that’s what happens. What does it even mean?” Ammu says.

“She’s confused, she’s probably seen it in the movies, heard her friends talking about it. Let her work it out and she’ll come back and change her mind.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

“She will.”