7

AMAYA

Four Days before the Wedding

Ten minutes with Laura, and I could understand why Kaavi didn’t want her around. For one, she Never. Stopped. Talking. Not even for a moment. Not even to take a breath, it felt like. How did she not simply run out of oxygen and suffocate?

Laura was, as she wasted no time telling me, the daughter of one of Mr. Fonseka’s American friends, and a longtime supporter of their family business. The Fonsekas insisted she stay at their home when they heard Laura had plans to take a gap year and “find herself” in a “third-world country.” Her words, not mine.

“You know what’s really interesting about Sri Lanka?” she asked, her words buzzing out of her at full speed. “It’s that no one ever says please or thank you. Why is that?”

“It’s implied in our tone. You see, the formal—” But she didn’t wait for my answer. And here I was thinking that interrupting people was a Sri Lankan thing.

“And eating curry for breakfast? That’s so . . . strange, isn’t it? I mean, I do love a good fish curry, but not first thing in the morning, you know? It just feels so . . . intense.”

She went on, and I gave up trying to answer her after a few tries.

Kaavi sat in the passenger seat, not looking up from her phone, which left me little choice but to nod along to what Laura was saying. That she sat up in front with the driver was a testament to how much she clearly didn’t like the girl, because proper Colombo 07 ladies never sat in front—they were chauffeur driven unless, of course, they chose to drive themselves.

“So, Ams, how long will you be in Colombo for?” Kaavi asked, when there was finally a lull in the conversation. She didn’t turn around when she spoke, but she did call me Ams, like she always did.

“I’ll leave a day or two after the wedding.” Not that there would be a wedding if I had anything to do about it.

“Ah, I see. So you won’t be here for the homecoming, then?”

“I guess—”

“What’s a homecoming?” Laura interrupted. “Is it, like, a homecoming game? Will there be a formal?”

Kaavi’s polite smile was impenetrable, and her phone beeped right on cue.

I didn’t think Laura really cared about the answer, but she threw me an impatient look.

“Well? What is it?”

And so I was left to explain to Laura that a homecoming was the party that the groom’s family threw for the newly married couple returning after their honeymoon. It was often as grand as the wedding reception itself—a classic way for the families to one-up each other.

I wondered who was throwing Kaavi’s homecoming? The last time I checked, Spencer didn’t have any family. I suppose the Fonsekas would just hire a wedding planner and throw it themselves. They were all for keeping up pretenses. Unless Spencer had changed, too, and decided to foot the bill himself. According to Kaavi’s social media posts, he was very successful now.