“He was going at his own pace.”
Reena leaned into her and whispered so no one else could hear. “If he falls, I need time off work, and I can’t afford that right now. I am finally getting the bigger cases even though I work from home.”
“I’m here,” Nimita said.
“For now.”
“What does that mean?” Nimita reached to flip over the rotli, but Reena beat her to it again. She caught Hiral watching them again.
“It means exactly that. I have no idea how long you’ll stick around.” Reena went back to vigorously rolling out perfect rotli, her bangles clanking in time on the counter.
Nimita opened her mouth to refute that but then shut it, because her sister was right. She’d never stayed long before.
“Put ghee on the rotli,” Reena instructed.
Nimita sighed and spooned ghee on the fresh, hot flatbread. A child’s job.
“Well, I’m here now. And Papa was fine bringing me a few towels. Look how happy he is. He felt…useful.” Nimita paused. “You know he used to help Mom cook. He can do the ghee.”
“You know he can hear you,” their father chimed in with laugh.
“Hmph.” Reena shook her head. “Trying to pass off even the ghee duties to your dad.” She grunted and continued with her rotli.
“Reena.” Hiral stood and grabbed Naya from the high chair. He took her to the sink to wash up. “Naya is ready for her book.”
“I’m cooking,” Reena responded without looking up.
Hiral walked over, Naya on his hip, and placed his hand at the small of Reena’s back, then kissed her cheek. He whispered something to her. Whatever it was, it made Reena put down the valen and wash her hands.
She took her daughter and headed out of the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, “If it’s not too much, Nimita, can you finish the rotli?”
Nimita caught Hiral’s eye. “It’s the best I can do,” he said. “You two need to work this out.”
Nimita nodded. “Come on, Papa.” She nodded with a small smile in her father’s direction. “You can do the ghee.”
Chapter Twelve
“How’s it going?” Roshan was FaceTiming his sister.
“Great,” she said.
He studied her face for signs of fatigue.
“I know what you’re doing,” she said.
“So?”
“So I said I was fine. Take my word for it. And stop calling me every day. It’s weird.”
“What’s weird about calling your sister?” This was a common point of discussion. Roshan was used to it.
“It just is. Other siblings don’t talk every day.”
“We aren’t other siblings,” he countered.
“I wish we were,” she said softly.
“Well, I’d like to say that your sunny disposition and sarcasm is a sign of health, but you’re like this during chemo as well.”
