A little warmth. A little dignity. By the time the victim notices the shape of what’s missing, the thief has practiced looking innocent.

Andrés read the first line. Then the second. Then he turned toward his mother. “What did you do?”

Doña Rebeca didn’t look at him. “She is your wife,” she said, as if that explained anything. “Everything in this family serves the family.”

Valeria made a sound I’d never heard from her before. Not a sob. Not a gasp. Something between disbelief and the final snapping of a rope.

“My passport,” she said.

Doña Rebeca lifted her chin. “You were being dramatic about visiting your aunt. Married women don’t run home every time they feel uncomfortable.”