Part One: How It StartedWhen it was finally ending, when her glass house was crashing down around her -- and who could name the one who had cast the first stone? -- Shefali found herself obsessed with beginnings. With the question of how it had started, how she had done this to herself, to them. She had no doubt that she had, in fact, been directly responsible -- she had proposed their arrangement. She had pushed the three of them forward, through every strange and crucial juncture. Though now her mother, her sisters, urged her to blame one or the other of the boys, Shefali knew better. She could take it all on herself, she could bear whatever needed to be borne, if only she knew where it all had started. How far back did she need to go?
Okay, brain. Now, can I sleep?