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?
Mira is studying (translation: judging) the white hydrangea and orchid centerpieces. She turns to Chand and pretends to whisper, “I hate it when these young brides and grooms have their friends make so many speeches. We did it right in India. Food, dancing, social time. What these kids here don’t realize is that none of us care if the bride likes cupcakes or the groom likes football! We just need to talk to each other.”
Deepak squeezes Bina’s hand and whispers, “It’ll be fine.” Bina braces herself for an evening of superficial, civil conversation.
But before she even reaches her chair, one on the opposite side of the table from Anita, Mira yells, “Bina! I can’t wait for the next Chats Over Chai meeting!”
“What?” Bina asks, confused.
“Next weekend! I’m so sorry we couldn’t make it to the first one.”
Bina’s not sure if it’s boldness or exhaustion, but she blurts, “Because you were busy at Anita’s?”
Mira’s taken aback. She glances at Anita, who is busy talking to Jiten. “Yes, we were there. But because she was really having a hard time. Not because we don’t care about you.”
“You still could have told me,” Bina says. “We’ve known each other for how long? We shouldn’t have to lie to each other like that. I understand it’s hard being caught between two of your friends, but there should still be room for honesty.”
“You’re right.” Mira takes a deep breath. “We should have told you. I’m sorry.”
Bina feels a weight lift. “It’s okay.” And to her surprise, it really does feel okay. Her daughters were right. Putting things out there in the open was much better than holding them inside herself.
“But this entire plan you have, to build a women’s community, and do something just for us . . . it sounds amazing, Bina. I hope I can get off the waitlist!”
“Waitlist? What are you talking about?”
“The Instagram post all your kids just put up!” Mira holds up her phone. A black-and-white photo of Bina is on her screen. Anuj had taken the photo on his iPhone last year while Bina was cooking. The afternoon light is coating Bina’s cheeks and chin as she’s staring into the distance. A stack of rotlis and a wooden rolling pin are next to her hands.