“Great! Where can I put these?” Kavita motions to the giant tray of naan in her hands. Pockets of butter and garlic are collecting in the folds of the puffy bread.

Bina sees Mira behind Kavita, carrying a large bowlful of gulab jamun. As much as everyone loves the fried doughnuts, Bina wishes that her friends had listened to her when she said to bring healthy food.

“Ah, thank you for bringing this. I have a special table back here for you.” Bina points to a corner away from the temple parking lot. The Indians will all congregate around here anyway. She’s tried, again and again, to promote intermingling between her Indian and non-Indian friends, but it’s useless. Kavita and Mira often switch to speaking in Gujarati so they can chatter without being understood.

Both Kavita’s and Mira’s husbands did their residency at Atlanta Memorial Hospital two years after Deepak and Jiten. Everything about them is entertaining, from the bright-colored saris they always wear to the way they oscillate between talking trash one second and seeming polite and well behaved the next.

“Push our dishes closer together,” Kavita instructs Mira. “I want to put them both on my Instagram.”

“A story or picture post?” Mira asks.

“Obviously, a story,” Kavita says. “They aren’t pretty enough for a permanent post!”

Bina leaves them as they’re discussing the perfect filter. Her friends are obsessed with social media. They’ve mastered how to use filters and recently started incorporating GIFs into their text messages. Kavita is especially quick with sending ones with the perfect responses. Bina overused her favorite GIF, of Oprah cheering in a powerful red suit.

Bina rejoins Kavita and Mira as they’re exchanging the latest complaints about their mothers-in-law. She needs her chai right in front of her, three times a day, like some kind of high-powered executive. And every day is a different health complaint!

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you both about an idea Anita and I have been working on. If you’re both free next month . . .” Bina trails off as she notices Anita emerging from her periphery, as if she appeared on cue.

I miss you, Bina thinks as she takes in Anita’s blue floral wrap dress, the one Bina picked out for her during their last trip to the outlet stores. A large bowl of mango rus is in her hands. Bina feels a stab of sadness as she inhales the aroma of the sweet dish. Anita knows it’s Bina’s favorite thing to have in the summer. It’s no coincidence that she made it today.

To Bina’s surprise, relief washes over her. Maybe Deepak was right. They’ll talk everything out now and things will start to get back to the way they’re supposed to be.