1938. He married me as part of a deal with my father—and I gave birth to a daughter by his brother. And all that time I kept one secret that turned everything upside down.
The year had turned out surprisingly warm. Indian summer dragged on, painting the leaves in fiery gold. The air was clear and sweet, like thick honey, and a fine pre-winter web drifted through it. In such a setting, the news brought into the house felt especially bitter and unfair. “Varka, Varka,” came a tired voice … Read more
