Suhani used to notice this all the time when she was little. Maybe she was more observant then because she was alone so often. During their early years in America, it was just Suhani, Mom, and Dad living in a family friend’s basement while Dad made minimum wage in residency and Mom’s job applications were rejected by Office Depot, Kmart, and Kroger. Suhani was always the last kid picked up from daycare and the perpetual odd one out during gatherings with their friends who didn’t have kids yet. But she never minded. She filled her time with books and her own thoughts. And when the three of them were finally together, she always felt loved. Every evening, they sat on the floor, spread out a tablecloth, and ate khichdi. Even now, the turmeric rice, lentils, and yogurt give her more comfort than any other type of food.

If her parents can make it through so much, why is it so hard for her and Zack? Is all this a test of their relationship, a way to see what they’re capable of overcoming? Or is it a sign that they’re not as compatible as she once thought? She refuses to dwell on the latter possibility.

As Mom takes quick, purposeful steps toward Natasha’s bed, Dad turns to Suhani and says, “You know they’re going to keep her here.”

“They have to,” Suhani says. “I know she wants to go, but it would be unsafe to discharge her. I just can’t believe this is happening.”

“I know, beta.” Dad wraps her in a hug. “But let’s hope this is all for the greater good. Her greater good. She will be monitored, put on the right medication, have the support she needs.”

Suhani nods, knowing he’s right. How different we are at the same job, she thinks. He’s so calm and collected, while I’m constantly on edge. Maybe she’s more like Mom than she realized.

“Suhani!”

At first, she thinks that her eyes are playing tricks on her. But a second glance confirms who called her name.

Roshan.

“Oh. Hi,” Suhani says. “I can’t really talk.”

Her gut tells her to walk away. But then she’ll look like she cares about his presence, taking up all the space in front of her.

“Is everything okay?” Roshan frowns. He looks right at home here. A brief look of recognition passes over his face before he says, “Hi, Uncle.”

“Hello.” Dad clears his throat in an attempt to mask his surprise. “How are you?”

“The usual, just working,” Roshan says. “I’m on call tonight and there was a stroke code, so I had to come in.”

“Right, I heard that before. I hope your patient’s okay,” Suhani says. “Sounds like it’s going to be a busy night.”