“Nishat,” she says, before I can say anything else. She puts aside the half-knit scarf and needles, and wraps her arms around me. This is the first time my mother has touched me in weeks and I flinch even though I don’t want to. Either she doesn’t notice my reaction, or she doesn’t care, because she lays my head down on her shoulder. “Your Abbu and I love you.” That’s all I’ve wanted to hear since I told them the truth. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to hear from them. But not like this. “But that means you have to make the choice to not be … this.”

This, meaning a lesbian.

This, meaning the person that I am.

The choice she wants me to make isn’t between being gay and straight, it’s between them and me. Who do I choose?

I pull away from her, biting down the tears rising through me like a tidal wave. This time, I’m the one who can’t look her in the eye. If I do, I think I’ll break.

“Can I go?” I manage to ask.

“Think about it, Nishat.”

“Can I—” I’m already standing up, but Ammu grabs hold of my hand, jerking me back.

“Have you …” She takes a deep breath. “You haven’t … with a girl …”

I shake my head frantically while pulling her fingers off of mine. Though at this stage, I’ll say anything just to get away.

“Good,” she says. “Good.” That’s the word that follows me out of her bedroom and into mine.

Priti is sitting on my bed, scrolling through her phone. Her head snaps up the moment I enter, but I don’t have the energy or the words to talk to her. I just collapse on the bed and let the waves of misery crash through me.

Priti must lay down next to me, because next thing I know, her arm is wrapped around me. The two of us lie there on my bed for what feels like hours, me with tears dripping down my cheek and nose and chin, her rubbing soothing circles into my back.

When my tears finally run dry, Priti turns to face me with a frown on her lips.

“Can I ask you something, Apujan?”

“About what Ammu said?”

“No …” She trails off. “About … you. Why did you … I mean … what made you tell them? You could have kept it a secret, right? It wouldn’t have made a difference. It’s not like you’re with someone.”

I don’t know where to begin or how to explain it. I’m not sure if I really understand it myself. But I’m also not sure if I regret it, after everything.

“It was because of Sunny Apu’s wedding.”

“Because …?”