That’s when Shoban first saw her, felt her. Her baby girl. Inside her. So very beautiful. With large too-forgiving eyes, and tiny too-loving hands, and a heart that had no vileness in it. None at all. And Shoban knew with the deepest certainty that she would bring only beauty with her. A beauty without which Shoban would never heal. Never feel whole again.

Without a word, Mina took Shoban’s hand and they walked out of the clinic. Words didn’t find them again. Not in the car, not as Mina pulled the Jeep onto the beach and they walked and walked until the day turned to night.

In the months that followed, Mina returned to Woodside and Ma-saheb came back to Sripore. Then Mina came back for the delivery. The two of them taking turns to stay by Shobi’s side.

Baby Ashna came into the world exactly on her due date, screaming as though she wanted to wake the dead and just as beautiful as Shoban had imagined. A thick head of silky black hair, puffy baby eyes that stretched clean across her round face, and a mouth so pouty and determined that the sight of it made Shoban cry and cry as she pressed her to her breast.

“Let’s take her to America,” Mina said, pressing her close and unabashedly inhaling her baby smell. Her own Trisha was two. Unlike Shoban, Mina had craved and cherished being a mother. Unlike Shoban, Mina was born to be a mother.

Shoban wanted nothing to do with America. The idea of living anywhere but here in India was entirely incomprehensible to her.

“I want to go back to playing cricket,” Shoban said that first day they went back to the palace from the hospital with baby Ashna. The thought had been bubbling beneath the numbness for a while. Shoban had put off committing to the national team because she had believed she was off to Oxford; now she could see no other path for herself.

“Will they let you play now?” Mina asked.

“Women athletes compete in the Olympics after childbirth,” Shoban said.

“That’s a great idea,” their mother-in-law said. “You have to find something to keep yourself busy. The commissioner of the Board of Control for Cricket is a cousin. You focus on your recovery right now. I’ll call on him.”

“I still want a divorce.” Shoban had no idea why she had waited so long to say it, but seeing her baby’s face had made her resolve stronger. She never wanted to see Bram again. Oddly enough, she couldn’t let herself think about Omar either. Missing him was a pain that sharpened all the things that hurt.

He hadn’t made any contact with her. She had no idea how much he knew and what betrayal he believed her capable of. Shoban was just too exhausted to sort through any of it.