“Hm.” Dr. Chan scribbles something else down in big cursive loops. “Why do you say that?”

“Because I don’t want to live the same life everyone else does, especially everyone in my family. They want to go to school, work a stable job, get married. And for a really long time, I told everyone that’s what I wanted, too. I even told myself that. But I think I did that, and a lot of other things, to avoid really focusing on how I was pretending to just be normal, when I’m not.”

When Natasha looks back, she did a lot to ignore her feelings. In elementary and middle school, she learned how to forge her parents’ signatures so she wouldn’t have to face the fact that she wasn’t trying. And then throughout college, the partying, smoking, drinking, and maybe even the making everyone laugh were all there to distract her from how she really felt, who she really was.

“I see,” Dr. Chan says. “Natasha, when you called 911, you said that you didn’t see a point to anything anymore. Is that true?”

How exactly is Natasha supposed to respond to a question like that? How is she supposed to tell the doctor that everyone else seems to get through life so easily, while everything’s a struggle for her? They can change their last names, careers, minds. They can float in and out of accomplishments, while at her best, all she does is remind people of an Indian female Ferris Bueller.

Natasha shrugs. “Sure. I don’t really see the point of getting out of bed a lot these days but I’m just sort of stuck. And really, I feel so much better than before, so if I can just get the therapist refe—”

“You have to understand that what you did was very serious. Yes, you threw up the Tylenol, so I’m hoping that your labs show no liver damage, but we can’t downplay the fact that you could have really hurt yourself. My guess is that you’ve been in a lot of pain for a while.” Dr. Chan furrows her brows. “It must be exhausting to keep pretending you’re okay.”

Natasha’s heart starts pounding. Suddenly, the room is too warm. “Is my brother-in-law here yet? He’ll tell you that I’m fine to go home. So will my sister, Suhani Joshi. I’m sure you’ve worked with her before?”

“I don’t know if your family is here yet,” Dr. Chan says. “And yes, I have worked with your sister, but we—the people who have seen you tonight—have to make our own assessment and do what’s best for you.”

There’s a frantic voice on the other side of the curtain. “Natasha?”

“That’s my sister!” Natasha jumps up. “She’s here!”