I stayed at the edge of the room, where I could hardly be seen.

Kaavi noticed me, though she looked away as soon as we made eye contact.

Mr. Fonseka cleared his throat.

“I’m sure everyone is wondering what the commotion was this morning. I’m very sorry for disturbing you’ll”—he looked toward the relatives—“especially those of you who have traveled from so far and are certainly jet-lagged.

“I’m sure you’ll can understand that these wedding times can be stressful for everyone. But it’s even worse when the stress comes from totally avoidable matters. Of course, we are all no strangers to gossip and the damage it can cause. My family, especially my soon-to-be son-in-law, was the victim of such gossip. I just want to take a moment now to make one thing very clear—”

He paused and looked around the room, making sure to look everyone in the eye, even me. This was the Mr. Fonseka I used to know. Who wasn’t afraid to face things head-on. Who took charge of situations. Who I used to call uncle, who kept me safe, who felt almost like the father I never had. My heart swelled, looking at him now.

A kettle that had been left on the stove started to whistle. It seemed to jerk him back to what he was saying.

“There’s nothing, do you hear? Nothing that could be said about my family, and I very much consider Spencer to be my family, that would make us turn our backs on one another. Nothing.

“Now if we could please go back to celebrating Kaavi and Spencer, and focus on their big day, I would appreciate it very much. Thank you.”

And with that dismissal, he stormed out of the room.

Mrs. Fonseka didn’t say anything, but the way she kept her eyes trained down made me think she wasn’t too happy. I knew what was in the envelope. And I knew Mrs. Fonseka. There was no way she’d be as accepting as her husband. But I also knew the way things worked—when Mr. Fonseka put his foot down, and it was rare that he did, but when he did, there was no changing his mind. I knew that from personal experience.

I tried to slink out of the room without being seen. I had just crept past one of the relatives, I think her name was Aunty Geetha, when I heard her mutter—

“Of course they all stand by anything the other does. Even bastard children.”

She was quickly shushed by the younger woman next to her, but when I looked back, Aunty Geetha locked eyes with mine and gave me a little smile.

I felt my face heat up. I thought about grabbing the kettle full of boiling water and throwing it at her. The way she would scream as her face melted away. That would get rid of her snide grin. But I swatted that thought away.

Looks like I haven’t been as safe from Colombo gossips as I thought.