Was that coffee she smelled? She opened her eyes. Her parents always had chai in the morning. They hadn’t wanted her to be alone today, so they had insisted she come home for a few days. As it was currently spring break in Baltimore County, she had agreed. The truth of it was that she was grateful to be near her family today. She sat up in bed. The day was going to come whether she faced it or not. Better to face it. She washed up, donned an old Towson University sweatshirt, and followed the scent of chai and coffee to the kitchen.

“Jay Shree Krishna.” The automatic greeting of praise to God fell from her lips without thought.

“Jay Shree Krishna.” Her parents responded in unison. Her father glanced at her and went back to his chai. Her mother studied her.

“Where’s Nilay?”

“School. A friend drove him,” her mother answered. “How are you, beta?” Annika cringed at the caution in her mother’s voice.

“I’m okay, Mom. Don’t worry, I’m not going to crumble.”

Her mother smiled. “Well, I should hope not. I raised my daughter to be strong.”

“So, then, why are you so afraid to say anything?”

“We don’t want you to yell at us,” her father stated simply.

“I do not yell at—” She stopped because she was yelling. “Oh. Sorry about that,” she finished, sheepishly. “I smell coffee.”

Her mother brightened. “We made you some.” She pointed at a brand-new coffeepot in the corner, filled with the life-giving liquid that Annika craved. She poured herself a mug and found her favorite creamer stocked in the fridge. Jay Shree Krishna, indeed.

She sat down with her parents and took that first, life-changing sip of coffee. Amazing. She sensed them watching her, but she said nothing. Her father spoke first.

“I’m glad you came home.” He rested his hand on hers. “It’s been too long that we saw you wake up in this house.”

Her heart swelled. She hadn’t realized how much she missed it until he said it. She squeezed his hand and smiled. “It really has.”

Her father stood, taking his empty mug to the sink. “I must get to work.” He kissed the top of her forehead, then her mother’s cheek, before exiting the kitchen. He turned back as he left. “Annika, my car is in the shop, so I’m taking Mom’s car to work. Tonight we both have meetings. Mom will drop me off. Do you mind picking me up from mine?”

Annika shrugged. “Sure. Text me the address.”

Her father beamed, a little too happy about getting a ride from her. Whatever. Maybe she had been a bit extra difficult lately. “Great. See you then.”

He left her alone with her mother. Her mother smiled at her and stood. “Toast?”

“Yeah.” Annika stood as well, heading for the fridge. “Got any avocado?”