“Isra felt a sense of failure rising in her. She had tried her best to shelter her daughters from her sadness, they way she wished Mama had sheltered her... Sadness was like a cancer, she thought, a presence that staked its claim so quietly you might not even notice it until it was too late. She hoped her... daughters didn’t see. Maybe Deya could even forget... Isra could still learn to be a good mother. Maybe she could still save them. Maybe it wasn’t too late.”
