Chapters (40)
- Cover
- Also by Saumya Dave
- Dedication
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Acknowledgments
- Readers Guide
- Discussion Questions
- About the Author
- What’s next onyour reading list?
Kavita shakes her head. “Oh, that was obviously a lie she told me to cover up that she’s been shacking up with the man for a while. These girls all lie, I tell you. At least Natasha had the nerve to be up front and say no to getting married.”
“Okay, then.” Bina glances at the grandfather clock in the back corner of the room. “I can’t believe I’m saying this but we’ve actually run out of time, so I guess our meeting is over.”
Kavita and Mona collect their plates and cups. But Mira stays glued to the couch.
“Oh my God.” Mira’s eyes are wide as she scrolls through her phone.
“Is something wrong?” Bina asks.
“I, uh, don’t know if I should say,” Mira says.
Mira usually has no qualms about dispersing her social intel. She also knows how to do it in a way that makes people want to listen. (It’s likely the same reason her daughter, Pooja, has become such a successful lifestyle influencer. They know how to keep people interested.) Bina once walked into Mira’s house when she was on speakerphone with a customer service rep, who said, “Of course he went back to live with his mother! What a chump!”
“Now you have to tell us,” Mona demands. “You can’t start with that and just leave us hanging!”
“I know. I know. I shouldn’t have said anything.” Mira rubs her temples. “Bina, can we talk alone?”
“Sure. Why?” Bina asks. Is it about Bipin? Or Mira’s daughter?
“Just trust me, okay?” Mira looks at Bina. Her heart thuds in her chest.
“Trust you about what?” Bina can’t handle another second of this guessing nonsense. She grabs Mira’s phone.
Her breath catches in her throat. Natasha’s on the screen. Her Natasha. It looks like she’s on a stage somewhere, somewhere dark and dirty. She’s wearing one of Suhani’s T-shirts that’s in desperate need of a wash and iron.
“What is this?” Bina asks as a flash of warmth spreads throughout her body. “Where did you get it?”
“It’s on YouTube apparently. Pooja sent it to me by accident. She told me not to watch it because she meant for it to go to one of her friends.”
There’s a play button. Bina clicks it and watches her daughter pace back and forth. There are a few cheers but it’s too dark for Bina to see if there’s a big audience. When was this recorded? Where the heck is she?