Every time my brother-in-law drove me home, I would lose consciousness and wake up with unexplained aches and pains. My husband would only laugh and say, “You’re just out of shape, that’s all.” After the fourth ride, I secretly slipped a voice recorder into my purse and said nothing. That night, I listened to a phone conversation between the two of them that revealed my blackouts had never been accidental.

My mother arrived that weekend.

She embraced me at the door without asking for details.

When I started apologizing for frightening her, she touched my cheek and said, “I didn’t come for an explanation.

I came because you’re my daughter.”

We cooked together in Priya’s kitchen.

It took me a long time to let another person pour a drink without watching every movement.

My mother noticed.

She did not comment.