I frown, because it’s my room and my bed and my right to offer her a seat, but she’s come in here and asserted herself like she’s in charge. But I do as she says, sitting down next to her. There’s enough space between us to fill an ocean.

“How’s school?” Her voice is irritatingly chirpy.

“Fine.”

“What classes are you taking?”

“Sunny Apu … why are you here?”

She sighs. The bed creaks with the weight of it.

“Khala and Khalu spoke to me.” Ah. So that’s what this is about. I’d been wondering if we would ever talk about it straight out; I guess sending in a “relation” who’s not really a relation at all is as straightforward as they’re willing to get. This is a family matter—I am a family matter—but one for them to discuss with the family, not with me.

“I don’t want to—”

“You have to hear me out, Nishat,” she interrupts before I can say anything else. “Khala and Khalu are really worried about you. Even Amma and Abba are worried. They’ve been so upset … and they didn’t even want to tell us, really, but it’s good they shared so that we can help you.”

“I don’t need—”

“You have a problem Nishat, you just don’t realize it. You’ve seen this on TV and in films, and you’ve read about it in your books and—”

“Is that what you were doing? Looking through my books to see if I have any lesbian ones in my collection?” I turn to her with narrowed eyes. She flinches at the word lesbian, like it’s something disgusting instead of just a part of who I am.

“You’re young, you’re confused.”

I shake my head, even though she’s turned away from me and can’t see it.

“I’m not confused.” If I was, I would have never put myself through this scrutiny and judgement. This silence.

“Girls like you aren’t … aren’t …” She trails off like the word lesbian is too much for her to handle. Like her lips can’t shape it.

“They are. I am.”

“You’re Muslim.”

I snort. “That’s not how it works, Sunny Apu.”

“Muslims aren’t gay,” she whispers, like this is a hard and fast rule. She’s still turned away from me, looking out the window like the outside world will have some solution to my lesbian problem. I would laugh if this weren’t such a ridiculous claim. Because of course Muslims can be gay. How can anyone even think otherwise? The two aren’t mutually exclusive. I am living, breathing proof.

“Sunny Apu, you don’t even pray namaz,” I say instead, because it seems like a more palpable bridge to build. “When was the last time you even went to the mosque? Or just prayed?”