Moments later, Mr. Harris entered the room. “Tilly, as I discussed with you yesterday, this is a complicated matter and will take time to sort out, officially and unofficially. The birth certificate is helpful, and certainly there are extenuating circumstances involved. But we don’t have anything documenting parental permission to travel. It’s just not that simple.”

“Mr. Harris, Leo, our friend and compatriot. My daughter has spoken very highly of you. She said you are relentless and righteous. Now, are you telling me that my very smart daughter is wrong?”

“Ma’am,” Leo said, shaking his head, “Antonia is the best we have. We were together in Morocco, and I would never want to be on the other side of an argument with her.”

Leo knew my story or a closer version of it than we’d ever revealed to anyone else. Antonia had shared some details with him yesterday, enough that he felt compelled to help even if he didn’t know how.

“If we issue a passport from here, you may get questioned at the airport. Pakistani immigration is going to raise an eyebrow to see the two of you traveling together, and the last thing we need is to draw attention. There are some people who think we don’t know how to mind our own business,” he said, making sure his voice was not audible from the hallway.

“The longer we stay here, the more time there is to catch attention. We need to get moving,” Tilly said, as if Leo were holding her up from getting to a doctor’s appointment. Leo let out a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair.

“That’s not how it works at all,” he said, barely hiding his frustration. “I’m going to have to step out for a bit.”

Whether some other matter needed his attention or he simply wanted to exit the conversation, I was not sure. Tilly gave me a nod and let her shoulders fall. I wondered how much of her confidence was real and how much was an act.

The sound of the clock on the wall ticking filled the room and chipped away at our patience. Two hours passed. I tried not to feel anxious, but the skin on my arms had become prickly, my hairs standing on end. I told myself to breathe, to remember that we were in the American embassy, which was almost like being in the United States itself.

Tilly stood before a large map of the world on the wall, tracing the borders of Afghanistan and its surrounding countries.

“I didn’t know Afghanistan touches China,” she observed.