“Ananya looked at the page. The angular, foreign characters stared back at her, meaningless and mocking. She concentrated. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to empty her mind of everything—the faith, the doubt, the fear, the exhaustion, the twenty-six days of watching her son disappear—and in the darkness behind her eyelids, she saw them. The miscarriages. One, two, three. The small hopes extinguished. The empty cribs. The blood. She saw Arjun struggling to breathe in the backyard, his eyes wide with animal panic. She saw his name on a headstone. She saw herself standing in front of it. Alone. Always alone.”