The van rumbled along in silence. I avoided looking at the others, feeling like I caused a whole lot of trouble everywhere I went.

Indigo parked the van across the street from the American embassy, a long brick building two stories high. We stood under a plane tree on a street with gated embassies on either side of this compound. Cars and people moved in both directions on the tree-lined road. The embassy was bordered by a brick wall. Police officers who looked to be Pakistani guarded the gray metal gate at the entrance, and an American flag was hoisted high a few meters behind the gate.

“When you doubt what kind of person you are, come back to this moment,” Tilly said to Indigo and Patricia. She spoke as if she were a coach, sending her battered players into the final quarter. “This precious girl is out of danger because you came for her. This is who you really are.”

Patricia wrapped her arms around Tilly and me and squeezed us tight. The gesture surprised me. She smelled of talc and incense, smoke and flowers, and with my face buried in the soft cotton of her tunic, I was a shade embarrassed once I realized I was clinging to her. I let go and stood at Tilly’s side.

The other couple looked relieved to see us go, waving to us from inside the van. They were going to spend a week in Islamabad and maybe venture into the countryside. Indigo needed to get the vehicle fixed before they went back to Kabul and retraced their steps to Turkey. Patricia’s eyes misted when she talked about going home to the United States.

“You’re one tough cookie,” Indigo said as he gave Tilly a hug.

“So are you!” Tilly cheered. “Be proud of yourselves. The Himalayas didn’t kill us. So go and live. And don’t forget to hug your mothers. For God’s sake, please hug your mothers.”

This woman who didn’t know the Himalayas from the Hindu Kush kept me from feeling utterly lost and alone. I couldn’t understand why Antonia didn’t feel the same way about Tilly. Here she stood, on a tree-lined street in Islamabad, making these two couples laugh, even as their stomachs likely still fluttered to think of how close they’d come to plunging into a chasm or being tossed into a dank prison cell.

But they hadn’t, and she wanted them to remember that.

“Now Star and I are off to get her passport sorted. Farewell, friends,” Tilly said, taking my hand and nodding in the direction of the embassy.

I watched the van pull away, Patricia’s hand waving from the open window. We were on our own and ready to set Antonia’s plan into motion. Tilly dug a tissue out of her bag and pressed it to her nose. I gave her hand a squeeze to remind her she wasn’t alone.