Page 120 of The Art of Taking Second Chances

“That’s so cool!” she said softly, wiping her eyes.

“Let’s eat something,” Aunty suggested, using the opening to turn her attention to Riya, and led us to the kitchen.

Durgaben had laid out a colorful spread of white and green cucumber-chutney sandwiches, brown and red cookies, and crispy golden pakoras. The gentle aroma of tea infused with ginger and cardamom lingered in the kitchen, drawing in a cozy feeling.

“Do you drink tea, Riya?” Aunty asked.

“Sometimes Mumma lets me. Used to let me,” she corrected.

“Well, you can have some if you want. But we also have fresh juice and milk if you prefer that.”

“I will take some juice, please. Thank you,” Riya said deferentially.

Aunty smiled. “This is your home, beta. You don’t have to say thank you. Learn from Sameer,” she chided lovingly. “Behave like he does.”

“Hey, I’m terribly well-behaved!” Sameer protested. Riya laughed, though her eyes remained tired and swollen.

We ate amid gentle conversation, and Riya began to relax. When Durgaben joined us at the table, I said, “The sandwiches are really good. I’ve missed the taste of this cilantro-mint chutney. You’ll have to teach me how to make it.”

“Yes, I love it too,” Riya added.

“Anything you like, you let me know,” Durgaben said to Riya. “I can make most things.”

Sameer gave Durgaben a warm smile of gratitude, then excused himself. Aunty signaled me silently to follow him.

“Sameer.” I caught up with him in the living room.

“Hey babe, I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Aunty asked me to come with.”

He looked in the direction of the kitchen. “Are you both already conspiring against me?” he said with an amused frown, but he grabbed my hand anyway and led me to the other end of the house.

We walked in silence to his parents’ bedroom. It was a palatial room with large, open bay windows overlooking a beautifully maintained garden. Sameer’s father was seated in a large armchair with his eyes closed. He could’ve been asleep. I wasn’t sure.

“Dad,” Sameer said gently, dropping my hand and walking toward him.

He didn’t stir. Sameer approached him and touched his arm. “Dad.”

He opened his eyes, saw Sameer, and sat up. As he did, his gaze fell on me. He sat upright without acknowledging me.

“Riya is here,” Sameer said softly. “Do you want to come out and welcome her?”

He looked out the window. “What is she doing here?” he asked.

“She’s family, Dad,” Sameer said looking at me, then turned back to his father. “I broke it off with Aarti.”

“Yes, Bhatia called and hurled abuse at me. You threw away your future, son.”

I shuffled in place.

“I threw away your future, Dad. Mine is standing right here beside me.”

“Sangita is dead,” his father said. It sounded like an allegation.

Sameer lowered his head. “Yes, but Riya is here. Come on, get up. Let’s say hi to her,” he coaxed.

Sameer’s father made no effort to rise. Instead, he glared at me and beckoned me closer. I took a few halting steps toward him.

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