I had Leo awake by then, and I was trying to nurse him under a blanket while I peered through the gap between the seats ahead of me.

Maya, for her part, had already opened her book, and was reading it, as though she had just done something wholly ordinary.

And maybe, to her, it was ordinary.

That is the thing I keep coming back to.

My daughter had not held up that wallet to humiliate the woman.

She had not done it for revenge, or for the attention of a cabin full of strangers, or to win the fight her mother had been dragged into and lost.