Sometimes, while Bina is washing dishes or scrolling through texts, she remembers flashes of their friendship. Sharing rides to parties. Jiten opening the door in the middle of the night, five minutes after he texted her that Anita’s father passed away in India. Anita, sweeping up shards of glass after Bina dropped a stack of dinner plates out of sheer exhaustion. How they stopped keeping track of Pyrex containers because they’d go back and forth between their houses anyway. A joint family trip to France where Anita and Bina spent every afternoon sitting in cafés, drinking cappuccinos and people watching.

She wonders if this is real loss: a tangled mix of anger, betrayal, humiliation, and longing.

Bina scampers to Bipin. When she’s behind him, she stretches to her tiptoes and taps him on his shoulder. “Bipin Bhai, I’ll ask this clearly so there’s no room for misinterpretation. Do you have a problem with us meeting to talk?”

Bipin stops and turns to face her. Goose bumps erupt on Bina’s arms. How could she have missed seeing this part of him throughout the years? Sure, she always knew he was stern and even intimidating, but right now, for the first time, he’s terrifying her. She’s not sure if she’s overreacting or if she’s finally seeing him clearly.

“I don’t want Kavita here,” Bipin says, his low voice more jarring than his yelling from before. “And that’s that.”

When they get to the living room, Kavita is already waiting with her powder-blue satchel around her wrist.

Her head is lowered as she walks toward Bipin. “I’m sorry.”

Don’t apologize! Bina wants to yell. You didn’t do anything wrong.

“Let’s just go,” Bipin grunts. “Bina, I told you how I felt about these meetings. Now you’ve given me no choice.”

“No choice for what?” Bina asks. A dormant kernel of confidence, one she thought disappeared years ago, sprouts in her. How dare he speak to her this way.

Bina’s phone rings. She darts to the coffee table and silences it.

Bipin wipes a bead of sweat off his forehead. “You’ll be hearing from me. Soon.”

Bina tells herself to look more assured than she feels, something she used to do before she went onstage. She puts her hands on her hips and takes deep, heavy breaths.

“Great,” she says. “I look forward to it.”

Everyone else pretends to be busy wiping away crumbs and taking plates to the sink. Mira doesn’t even bother to be subtle about staring at Kavita and Bipin walking away.

“Should we go after her?” Bina asks.

Mira shrugs. “I don’t know what to do.”

Bina’s phone rings again. She takes a quick peek at the screen and sees five missed calls and a voicemail from Suhani.

That can’t be right. She clicks on the voicemail.