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?
The words repeat in Suhani’s mind and it takes all her strength to quiet them. She tries to see the situation the way she would as a doctor and not as a sister. The drained wine bottles at her apartment, Natasha living in her pajamas, her dread of seeing her friends.
Suddenly, everything becomes clear. And there is no easy way to say it.
“You need more help than just therapy,” she says. “This was really serious and you could have died. Do you understand that?”
She watches Natasha’s face shift from shock to defensiveness. Every part of Suhani wants to agree with her and say, Yes, of course you’ll be fine. Let’s just go home. But she can’t do that.
“I get it, bu—”
“I don’t think you do,” Suhani interrupts. “This isn’t one of those times like the others where we can all laugh off what you’ve done, not let you deal with the consequences. This is your life.”
Before Natasha can say anything, Zack walks in. “Uh, hey.”
Suhani refrains from jumping up and wrapping her arms around him. At the house, she didn’t have a chance to soak in Zack’s presence. But seeing him bathed in the fluorescent hospital light plunges her deeper into the emotional hangover she’s been buried under for the past week. A part of her still can’t fully process that that’s her husband, his tired eyes and slim, long-limbed body. That’s the man whose socks are folded in the drawer below hers. That’s the man she shares a DoorDash account and her nakedness and countless glasses of wine with. That’s home. She’s overcome with comfort and, to her surprise, raw desire, a longing to push him into bed and rip off his clothes.
“I was wondering when I’d see you,” Natasha says.
“Sorry it took me awhile.” Zack slings his hands into the back pockets of his slim-fit olive chinos. “Anuj and your parents are here so I was trying to buffer.”
“Ugh, thanks. I really can’t handle them right now. And I’m trying to get the fuck outta here, anyway.” On the word “here,” Natasha does a big, circular motion above her head to indicate the whole hospital.
“I’m glad she called you.” Suhani faces her husband.
I love you, she stops herself from saying. And I’m so sorry for everything.
Seeing Zack solidifies what she’s known since this morning: they need to be home together. They need to be back in the corner of Atlanta that’s just theirs.