DEVI: She’s your daughter. In every way.

BINA: Awake?!

DEVI: Jaya visiting, remember? Went to In-N-Out and watched that new Ryan Gosling movie.

Devi and her daughter, Jaya, have one of those mother-daughter relationships Bina thought only exist in urban myths. They rarely ever argue and are best friends, doing everything from sharing clothes to trying new restaurants to going on road trips. Devi claims their relationship got much better after her divorce because she was less stressed.

DEVI: Your girl has nerve. Like someone else I know.

She adds the winking face emoji.

BINA: That’s a nice way to put it.

DEVI: It takes nerve to say no to getting married to someone you’ve been with for so many years. She could have strung it all along.

BINA: True.

Bina’s hit with a pang of longing for Natasha. Even though her strong will gave Bina a lot of stress throughout the years, she knows deep down that she wouldn’t want her daughter to be any different. She wishes she could call Natasha and tell her she knows she’s just trying her best. They both are.

“Mom? What are you doing?” Anuj walks into the living room. His red Cornell sweatshirt is in need of a wash. Despite his six-two build and ample facial hair, his round eyes and relaxed smile give him a perpetual boyish look.

“Nothing! Just couldn’t sleep and was texting with Devi,” Bina says. She didn’t realize she had eaten an entire sleeve of Parle-G biscuits. A pile of biscuit dust has collected on her lap.

“Yeah. I can’t stop watching the Natasha videos, either.” Anuj settles on the recliner next to her and covers himself with a burgundy throw Bina and Deepak got on a trip to Morocco.

A trip, she thinks. Maybe we need a family trip.

“I know, beta,” Bina says, appreciating how Anuj comments on things so matter-of-factly.

My sweet, sensitive boy, Bina thinks. She feels relieved, then guilty for being relieved, at being able to sit here with her son, who won’t jump into problem-solving mode like Suhani or defensive mode like Natasha.

“Are you still really mad?” Anuj asks.

“I’m not sure what I am, to be honest. You?” Bina sighs, appreciating this type of moment with him. She can’t remember the last time they talked, really talked, about things that weren’t logistics.

Anuj’s curls sway as he shakes his head. “I was pissed.”

“Yeah?” Bina asks. She rarely ever hears a statement like this from him: I was pissed.

“Totally,” Anuj says. “There’s stuff about her, about everyone, that pisses me off all the time.”

“I didn’t know that.” Bina sighs.

Sometimes she thinks she knows her son so well. Sometimes she thinks she doesn’t know him at all.