There are messages from Vanessa and Natasha.

VANESSA: WOW. I have a LOT of thoughts on this. Call me when free.

NATASHA: Don’t be mad.

The three simple words are a time capsule, transporting Suhani back to all the moments over the years when Natasha was well aware Suhani was furious with her but made the request anyway. Don’t be mad.

Suhani types, “What did you expect?” But something hinders her from sending the message. Buried underneath her embarrassment and anger, she feels something else emerge: pride. Pride for her sister’s innate talent. The videos take away Natasha’s usual stage fright, leaving space for who she is underneath the nerves. And she is funny. The type of funny people would want to pay for and hear more of. And even if she hit below the belt, a lot of what made her videos so biting was the truth woven into her words.

Suhani shifts to her e-mail. Dr. Wilson hasn’t responded yet about whether she’s still in the running for chief. His last message to her ended with I’m sure you understand the committee members still have various factors to consider before making our final decisions for chief.

Even though he didn’t write it, she knows that by “various factors,” he’s referring to the conversation with Roshan. How could she have been stupid enough to lose her cool like that? Now everyone knows something happened between her and a faculty member and that’ll be it. She will have lost the one thing she’s been working for for three years.

From downstairs, she can hear Mom, Dad, and Anuj, busy with their post-dinner ritual of cleaning the kitchen and watching Jeopardy! She doesn’t have the energy to see them right now. They can read her better than anyone else, so it’ll be a matter of seconds before they know she’s lying about why she came home. As much as she takes pride in being a real, respectable adult, she regresses into an eager-to-please sixteen-year-old whenever she’s here.

The tall white bookshelf next to her bed is as unchanged as other parts of her room. Old issues of Glamour magazine and yearbooks from fifth grade to senior year line the bottom shelf. There are framed photos of her with friends from high school, many of whom she’s no longer in touch with outside the occasional like or comment on social media. Stray safety pins are in the corners of the shelves, which are no doubt from the itchy, confining saris she pulled off over the years. Growing up, Suhani’s favorite ritual after weddings or pujas was to come home, rip off her Indian clothes, change into flannel pajamas, and watch Disney Channel shows with Natasha and Anuj.