Love that lives in wounds

This book began in silence.Not in the silence of peace, but in the silence of women whose stories were never asked, only endured.They stirred rotis with bruised wrists. They stitched clothes while stitching together broken selves. They wept alone while the world praised their patience. I watched them — in villages, in cities, behind veils, in kitchens, on buses, in courtrooms, in masjids — and I k...