There she was, Ashna, looking like someone had crushed her ribs with their bare hands.

Mina was the first to speak. “Ashi, hi, beta. How long have you been standing here?”

Ashna was staring at Shobi, devastation in her eyes. “Long enough.” Very slowly she turned to Mina. “Do you think I’m weak too? Does everyone just tiptoe around me?” Her voice was barely a whisper, but she might as well be screaming.

Mina stood and went to her, but Ashna scrambled back. “No!” she said more loudly, and turned back to Shobi.

She was shaking, every tendon in her neck stretched. For all her effort she couldn’t make words.

“Beta . . .” Shobi said.

“No! Please.” A long silence stretched before, finally, she spoke. “Remember that deal we made? You wanted us to talk. Let’s start with this. How was I born, Mom?” Her voice broke on the word Shobi had cherished like a dream.

“I’m not sure what you’re asking me.” Shobi kept her voice strong, because old habits were hard to break, and because she had no idea how much Ashna had heard.

“You know exactly what I’m asking. If you hated Baba from the very beginning of your marriage, then how was I born?” So Ashna had heard the worst part, then.

Words stuck in Shobi’s throat. This wasn’t how she’d wanted Ashna to find out. Actually, that part, the cruelest piece, she’d never wanted Ashna to find out.

Ashna laughed. “My entire life I’ve tried to figure out your marriage, to piece together the ugliness from overheard fights where you tried to destroy each other with words. Now it all makes sense. That’s why you never wanted to be around me. I . . . I was the ugliness in your marriage.”

“That’s not true. Ashi, listen to me. I—”

“No. You don’t have to lie anymore. Why did you even have me? Is that why you had to marry him? Oh God.” She gasped for air.

Shobi looked at Mina.

“You answer me. Why are you looking at Mina Kaki for help? Why does she have to do all your dirty work for you?”

Shobi went to Ashna, even as she scrambled back, until her back was pressed against the swirling railing of Bram’s bloody staircase. “Mina’s done the best part of my work. She got to raise you.”

“No, Mom, not now. Don’t. Manage. Me. Just be honest with me. No more lies.”

“Okay,” Shobi said. “Okay, so here’s the only truth that matters. None of this is your fault.”

“Stop it. Stop saying that. Will everyone please just stop saying that. It is my fault. How can it not be my fault? I’m the product of . . . of . . . God, Mom, if you stayed in a marriage like that for me, then it is my fault.”