“Precaution,” his father says. “For safety.” Mumma does not ask safety from whom. He feels it in his stomach: the humiliation. He can’t stay here. Not tonight. He is grateful Hadia is not home to see it. He moves to the staircase. A rectangle of light shines from his parents’ bedroom. At the top of the stairs he looks back at his mother’s pale face. She is watching his father, seated on the floor, setting up the safe, the instruction manual laid out exactly as Amar pictured. His father has lowered his voice and Amar can only make sense of snippets of his sentences. “Enough,” he catches him
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