She said more, but my heart was pounding so hard that I couldn’t hear her words, much less try to understand them. She motioned to the doorway behind her, placed a hand on her chest, and then pointed to the window of her apartment. I heard her say khaana, home, and chai. I looked at the shop behind her and saw the stairs that led to the apartment above it.

I turned to look at the neighborhood. A turbaned man pushed an empty wooden cart past the far end of the street. A taxi sped by without stopping. There were very few people walking around that night. I wondered if there were people who knew me or my father. I wondered if I should take my chances and make a run for a familiar home, maybe even my own home.

Before I could give it another thought, two men in military uniform rounded the corner. I inhaled sharply and flattened myself against the shop window. The American women swiveled to follow my gaze. In a flash, the woman named Antonia ushered me through a door and up a flight of stairs. I was inside an apartment above a bakery before I could resist.

In the living room, the woman shut the windows and drew the curtains. She instructed the older woman to go to the kitchen and bring juice for me while she peered out the window. I had never heard someone order an elder so brusquely, but the older woman seemed glad for the instruction.

“I’ll fetch us some juice!” she announced, then crossed the room in sprightly steps. A moment later, she emerged from the kitchen with a bottle of mango nectar and an empty glass. She filled the glass with thick, orange juice.

I did not take it. My father told me that butchers place a sugar cube in the mouths of lambs before they are slaughtered. I would not be an ignorant lamb.

“Have a sip at least. You look a bit wilted,” she said gently.

I looked at my feet.

“You’re absolutely right,” she said, as if I’d just admonished her. “Let’s give you a moment to breathe first. Not to mention you probably don’t understand a word coming out of my mouth.”

But I did understand most if not everything she said, thanks to the practice I’d had with my parents and lessons from my tutor.

The woman placed the glass on the coffee table and took a seat on the sofa. She pointed to the armchair, but I remained standing, keeping my body as close to the apartment door as possible.

The younger woman, Antonia, was still at the window, looking left and right. I knew she was looking for Shair. I hoped he was gone for good but couldn’t be sure. Satisfied that there was nothing to see, she took a seat beside the older woman.