The light filtering through the floor to ceiling windows in our Mahatta house was not warm or welcoming, only a thin, unforgiving brightness that revealed every drifting dust mote and exhausted shadow on my face.
I hardly recognized the woman in the mirror, a hollowed, worn version of myself, like a stranger who had stepped into my life and borrowed my skin without asking permission.
My name is Appa Vape, twenty eight years old, though my body and bones felt decades older, as if time had doubled its weight on me overnight.
Six weeks earlier, I had delivered triplets by emergency cesarean: three beautiful, heartbreakingly fragile baby boys named Leo, Sam, and Noah, each one a miracle and a new demand.
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