Natasha raises her hand. “My sister and brother are great. They really are. But they make me feel crappy, too. My sister is perfect. Literally. And she doesn’t understand that not everyone can get whatever they want. She works hard for what she has, yes, but it’s like she doesn’t know any other way. She puts so much pressure on herself and then does the same for anyone else in her orbit. And my brother tries to get it. But he’s almost the opposite of her. He’s so chill that nobody would ever have an issue with him. He’s at home all summer and I know my parents find it relaxing to have him around . . . but when I was at home for even a couple of weeks, it was a total hassle.”

Maybe she shouldn’t have said anything. These two doctors know Suhani. They probably idolize her. She considers taking her words back.

But Drs. Chan and Murphy just nod, almost in sync, as Natasha continues to talk. She wonders if this type of thoughtful nod is something they were taught to do in their training.

“Siblings do define us more than we may realize. And it can be tough to reconcile our role within our families,” Dr. Chan says. “But I wonder, what’s your influence been like on them?”

“Meaning?” Natasha asks.

“You’ve talked about how they’ve affected you and your sense of self. How do you think you’ve impacted your sister and brother?”

“I’m not really sure.” Natasha bites her bottom lip. She doesn’t really ever think she’s affected Suhani or Anuj.

“Does anyone else have something they’d like to add to that? Thoughts on your impact on your family members?” Dr. Murphy looks around the room.

Chris, a sophomore at Emory who was admitted for a manic episode, clears his throat. At first glance he looks like he’s straight out of a cologne commercial: buff and broad-shouldered with a chiseled jaw. If Ifeoma or Payal saw Chris at a bar, they’d definitely think he was super hot. Chris told Natasha earlier that he’ll probably have to take a leave of absence from school since he’s in and out of the hospital so much. During this most recent episode, he tried to cut up his entire left arm with a butcher knife. His wounds are covered with gauze that he tends to pick at during group therapy.

“I feel like my family does the best they can,” he says. “It took me awhile to realize that. But the older I get, the more I see that they’re trying to figure things out, too.”

Geraldine, a woman around Suhani’s age who was diagnosed with schizophrenia two years ago, nods in agreement. Everything from her Barbadian accent to her sparkling eyes to her flawless skin reminds Natasha of Rihanna.