I try to tell myself that pride is a sin, but I can’t help the glowing feeling growing inside of me. I should be able to feel proud once in a while, right? Is that not something you earn after a whole lifetime of insecurity and secrets?

“Post it.” I watch as she hits the button and turns to give me a wide grin.

“I guess we’re open for business.”

I feel a flutter in the pit of my stomach. I don’t know if it’s fear or excitement, good or bad, but I find myself not caring for the first time ever.

I wake up the next morning with all the fluttery feelings gone from my stomach. Instead, they’re replaced by a hole; it’s a type of panic I haven’t felt in a long time. My mind conjures the worst-case scenarios: nobody liked our Instagram post, or they all commented on how horrible my designs are.

“Have you checked your Instagram yet?” Priti asks when I come down for breakfast. Ammu eyes us both with some disdain.

“What is this Instagram tinstagram?” she asks with narrowed eyes. The only thing Ammu knows about social media is checking her Facebook for the latest photos from weddings and dawats and who knows what else. Mostly she likes to judge what everyone is wearing, even though she always tells us that we shouldn’t judge people.

“It’s just social media.” Priti rolls her eyes, even though Ammu definitely won’t know what that is. She narrows her eyes further, like she’s trying to process Priti’s words but it’s taking her a while to get there.

“You don’t need social media tedia.” There’s a frown on her lips. “Priti, you should be studying for your exams.” She turns her glare to me, like I’m responsible for Priti’s lack of focus—which, I guess I am—and says, “Don’t distract your sister. She needs to study.”

It’s the most that Ammu has said to me since I came out to her a few weeks ago, and it sends a jolt of pain through me that I hadn’t expected. I guess you never really get used to your parents treating you like you’re worth nothing.

“I know,” I say, staring down at my shoes at the same time that Priti exclaims, “I can study and do other things at the same time!” Priti’s voice drowns out mine, and I don’t think Ammu hears me at all. She doesn’t say anything else, turning away instead.

“So, did you?” Priti whispers to me as we’re heading out the door.

“Huh?” I’m still thinking about the fact that Ammu barely looked at me all through breakfast, like she couldn’t stand to. What am I to her now? A ghost that occupies her house?