And polite. Really polite. In every way, whether it’s how he tucks in his Bonobos shirts, holds doors open, or says “please” before every question. Even his penis is polite, rising to the occasion (literally) only when Natasha’s ready.

But then why has she been so off lately? Why has it taken more effort to be around him or around anyone?

It doesn’t matter right now. All that matters is that she’s taking the first big step to making a change in her life. She pictures herself two hours from now, after she’s announced that she needs a break from everything. Of course, she won’t say she got fired, gently fired—her boss gave her an it’s-not-you-it’s-us type of speech Natasha thought was only reserved for breakups on television. She’ll tell everyone that she’s done being an assistant at an ad agency, that she’s taken the initiative and decided for herself that there will be nothing else besides focusing on her (not yet existent) comedy career. Like a charming talk show host, she’ll make her point both clever and compelling. (In her mind, she says all of it in a British accent. Her imagined adult conversations are always in a British accent for some reason.) Her parents won’t take it well, but Karan and her siblings will get it. And after the words are out, that’ll be it. Just her and the sweet freedom of knowing she is officially going after her dreams. She is one step closer to being like those bold and brave women she’s admired for so long.

Natasha and Karan go back to the dining room, where Dad is in the middle of one of his speeches.

“So, of course, he’s fine now, but this really all goes back to social justice.” Dad raises a fist into the air. He has a habit of turning even the most mundane anecdotes into dramatic monologues that somehow always conclude with a topic that riles everyone up. At Suhani’s wedding, his toast ended with, “And here’s to life! And better mental healthcare for all! And to never forgetting what’s important to fight for!” A flurry of cheers and whistles erupted through the crowd and was repeated after Mom had finished with her part of the speech. A Deepak and Bina Joshi performance never ended quietly.

“Natasha.” Mom motions to Natasha with a freshly manicured hand. “Come help me for a second.”

Once they step into the hallway behind the dining room, Mom squints at her. “You didn’t want to do your hair before brunch?”

“No.”

“Or put on a little eyeliner?”

“No.”

“Or stop biting your nails?”