When Dipti’s father led me to her closed bedroom door, I gingerly knocked on it.
“I said I don’t want any food.” Her voice came through the door.
“You have a guest,” her father replied.
“Neel, go home,” she said from inside. “I’m not going back tonight.”
I pushed it open slightly and stuck my head inside. “It’s not Neel.”
She stared at me and blinked twice and then gestured for me to enter.
“I hope it’s okay that I came,” I said.
Showing up unannounced was part of the culture in Ahmedabad, so while she was surprised to see me, she wasn’t surprised that someone had arrived unexpectedly. I’d been worried that if I’d called ahead, she would have said not to come.
“Weren’t you supposed to fly home last night?” she asked.
I nodded. “I didn’t want to leave while things were like this with you and Neel.”
“Since when do you care about us?” she said.
The air-conditioning unit spewed cold air into the room. She sat on the bed, a rajai tucked tightly around her outstretched legs and a notebook resting on top.
“That’s fair,” I said. “I haven’t been the best advocate in the past. But during my time here, I’ve seen the way you balance each other, and until now, I hadn’t.”
“I’m not going back tonight,” she said, staring at the notebook.
“I’m not asking you to. Is it okay if I sit?” I asked, slowly approaching her the way Nana had taught me to approach the peacocks that came to the garden at Lakshmi when I was a little girl.
She nodded, and I sat in a chair near her side of the bed. I imagined her father had been keeping vigil over her from that chair.
Once seated, I said softly, “I just think you and Neel should talk. You left without doing that, and he’s really hurt.”
She glared at me. “He didn’t have a child ripped out from his insides.”
“I know. But he did lose a child. You both need each other now more than ever.”
“He apparently just needs to work, and then everything will be fine.”
“He’s not going back tonight.”
She looked at me skeptically.
“He’s not,” I repeated. “He’s going to stay until you are ready. We both are.”
I could tell she wasn’t sure how to process this new information.
Eventually, she said, “I can’t imagine either of you will last long here.” Then she turned back to the notebook on her lap.
“What are you working on?” I asked, motioning toward it.
She looked down at it before answering. “A letter.”
I nodded, knowing from her hollow eyes that it was a letter to Uma.
“How are you holding up?” I asked.
“Fine. I’m almost done with the antibiotics,” she said, her expression cold and unwavering, like a stone statue.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Oh.”
“You can talk to me if you want. I can only imagine how difficult this must be for you.”
The breeze from the air-conditioning unit caused goose bumps to pop out on my arms as I adjusted to the cold room.
“I’m fine,” Dipti said, crossing her arms.
She had a slight edge to her words that I recognized well—it was the same tone I used when I wanted people to leave me alone.
I leaned toward her and put my hand on her forearm. “I know things are hard right now, but please don’t blame Neel. He loves you, and he loved the baby. He had to make an impossible decision.”
She jerked away from my touch as though I had burned her skin. Pain flickered across her face.
“I’m fine,” she repeated and looked at the door, making clear she wanted to be alone.
I slowly rose and made my way to the door. Before leaving, I turned around and said, “Please don’t shut him out.”
When I returned from seeing Dipti that afternoon, for the first time since arriving in India over two weeks ago, I found myself alone in the bungalow. With so many people staying there and a constant rotation of servants who’d been hired to help with the wedding, it was the first time that the only sounds in the house were of my feet shuffling across the marble floor in my champals. Neel had gone out with my parents to buy some last-minute things like spices and nasta for Dad to take home with him. He was now the only member of our family who was flying home that night. Hari and Laila were on their honeymoon in Udaipur. Virag Mama and Bharat were at the office. Indira Mami must have been out running errands. Even the servants seemed to have made themselves scarce for the moment.