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?
Zack chuckles. “I’m not surprised. Just hang on for another hour or so. You’ll be fine.”
Natasha smiles. She got a brother-in-law who understands her. Everyone was worried how Mom and Dad would react when Suhani started dating a Jewish guy whose start-up was located at one of those cool coworking spaces and not some douchebag Indian doctor that they surely always envisioned for her. But it only took a few months for Dad to respect Zack’s knowledge of finance and Mom to be charmed by Zack’s charisma. The similarities between Jewish and Indian cultures also helped.
Well, all that plus the fact that Zack and Suhani have the perfect relationship. Unlike the other guys Suhani dated, Zack took pride in her ambition, in her need to constantly achieve and be more, do more, have more. He boasted about his “hot, go-getter wife” whenever anyone prompted him. Even when they fought, they found a way to speak to each other respectfully and come back together. And ever since they’ve been together, Suhani has been lighter and freer, a nice contrast to how intense and brooding she was growing up.
Natasha hears Suhani’s soft, catlike footsteps getting louder. She always thought residents were supposed to look worn down and ragged, with unkempt hair and extra weight around their middles. But looking at Suhani only makes Natasha aware of her own frumpiness. She can’t decide if being next to her sister makes her want to put on makeup or drown in tequila shots.
Suhani’s red nails accentuate the three-carat princess-cut diamond on her left ring finger. She’s wearing a sleeveless blush-pink knee-length dress. Despite the ninety-degree Atlanta summer heat, her hair is sleek and shiny without a hint of frizz. Just thinking about Suhani’s morning routine of showering, blow-drying, toning, moisturizing, priming, and then applying makeup is exhausting. Women like Suhani are so fabulous that they remind you how not fabulous you are.
What would it be like to be her? Natasha wonders. To be beautiful, admired, accomplished, an Indian auntie’s dream. Or really, everyone’s dream. People are happily under her spell, as if she’s some petite desi fairy who spreads magic wherever she goes. Babies always smile at her. Bartenders give her free drinks. Natasha’s two best friends from college, Ifeoma and Payal, often refer to Suhani’s Instagram for outfit inspiration.
“Nani,” Suhani says as she wraps Natasha into a hug.
Nani means “small” in Gujarati and was what Suhani called Natasha the day she came home from the hospital in a white receiving blanket. Their parents love telling the story of how Suhani had begged them for “a baby sister I can take care of” every day for years before Natasha was born.
“Glad you made it.” Natasha inhales a mixture of peony and jasmine flowers. She can feel her sister’s shoulder blades jutting out through the thin fabric of her dress.