The aunties’ chatter downstairs drifted up, Mrs. Fonseka’s voice the loudest and most assertive of them all, and I knew I would be safe for a few minutes at least.

I tiptoed down the hallway. Not a particularly easy feat with the wooden floors.

His door was closed, and I raised my arm up to knock but couldn’t bring myself to. I looked around for a sign, but there were no clocks. 10:38 on my own watch. Not great. Kaavi should be done getting ready any moment now. I’d better just head back to her room.

I was about to turn around but the door swung open.

Mr. Fonseka almost slammed into me, but I just managed to jump out of the way.

“Oh goodness, please excuse me,” he called out cheerfully, until his entire face changed when he realized who it was he had barreled into.

“Amaya? Is that you?”

“H-hi. Uncle. Sorry, I was—I was just . . .” but the words didn’t come.

“Did Fiona see you?”

“Y-yes. Downstairs.”

He ran his hand through his hair, which was much grayer than I remembered.

“Ah, I see. So she knows you’re here?”

I nodded.

“Come, come. Come inside.” He ushered me into his office. Looks like he wasn’t expecting me either. Why would Kaavi lie to me?

Unlike Kaavi’s room, I hadn’t been in Mr. Fonseka’s office very often. But I was in here the last time I was at this house—the moment where my life changed. I pressed my thighs together just remembering. I hadn’t been prepared for that much pain.

Unlike Kaavi’s room, nothing in here had changed. There was a large desk in the center of the room, with a framed sepia-toned portrait of a stern-looking gentleman, Mr. Fonseka’s father, hanging behind it. The walls were lined with bookshelves that held more framed photographs of Mr. Fonseka accepting various awards than actual books, and as always, everything felt very dusty.

He didn’t sit down. Instead, he turned to face me and spoke in a low voice.

“You know we had an understanding, Amaya. Why are you here?” His hand grazed my upper arm lightly, but he seemed to think better of it and tucked it away into the pocket of his linen trousers.

It wasn’t like I could tell him the truth. That I was here to make sure this wedding never happened.

“Kaavi invited me.” It was becoming increasingly obvious that Kaavi had pulled one over on all of us. But this was the simplest excuse, even if it did violate the terms of our agreement. It’s been five years—would they still hold me to that? “She asked that I come. I didn’t want to let her down.”

He sighed.

“But still. I would have thought you would’ve at least—”

He ran his hand through his hair again.

“I—I’m sorry. I should have checked. But I thought she would have cleared it with you before she invited me.” At least, that was what I was led to believe. I couldn’t imagine why Kaavi would do this. “I—I don’t know what—or how much—you’ve told her.”