I stormed right up to my parents, who were hovering behind the Kuos near the entrance of the ballroom like sad, desperate puppies waiting for their owners to give them attention again.

“You knew this was because of an unwanted pregnancy and you supported it?” I asked as soon as they were within earshot.

“Shh,” my mother hissed, glancing around to make sure no one had heard. Everyone was pretending to look elsewhere, but I could tell from their collective leaning in that they hadn’t made out my words and were now trying to.

God, I hated this community.

I lowered my voice to stick it to the eavesdroppers, even though another part of me wanted them to hear, as punishment for my parents. And the Kuos. “Tell me it’s not true.”

My parents led me away, into a less-crowded foyer that housed a row of towering porcelain vases. “Why does that matter?” my father asked.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

My mother put her hands on her hips. “Well, really, Jing-Jing, what did you expect? Why else would Hongbo—would the Kuos, the Kuos—want you?”

If my mother had reached into my chest and dug her nails into my heart, would that hurt less than right now?

She continued, “We’re just being honest. Realistic. Because we love you. We tell you the truth when no one else will.”

The truth. There were no truths here anymore. Except for the fact that my own mother believed my sole redeeming quality was my untouched vagina.

I didn’t know how long I stood there, on the precipice, so angry and hurt and sad that nothing came out, not even a tear. I just knew that when I started to come back to my body, my parents had stopped talking. And Andrew was hovering beside me worriedly. And then, in my peripheral vision, I saw Hongbo and his parents separate themselves from some clingy guests to join us.

Blurred remarks were exchanged, barely audible in my haze. But I snapped to when I heard Mrs. Kuo snarl, “Who is this?” while glaring at Andrew, who was standing very close to me.

“A classmate,” my mother answered calmly.

“This is my boyfriend, Andrew,” a voice—my voice—said.

“Kuo Ǎyí, Shǔshú, nice to meet you,” Andrew said politely, shooting them his professional-charmer smile and then bowing his head slightly.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Mr. Kuo growled to my parents, whose faces were flushed. “We’ve been telling everyone that Hongbo and Jing-Jing are together. You realize how this looks?”

“How long has this been going on?” Mrs. Kuo asked my parents.

Much too long. I’ve been ignoring my own happiness as long as I can remember.

“They’ve been friends for a few months—just friends,” my mother answered frantically. “I mean classmates! They’re classmates! Studying together. In groups!”

Loudly, my father added, “There’s nothing going on here. Really.”