“The rage was not immediate — it was sequential. It moved through Arun's body the way fire moves through a building: starting in one place (the jaw, which tightened), spreading (to the hands, which curled into fists on the armrests, the particular fist of a man who has never hit anything in his life and whose body is now, for the first time, suggesting that hitting might be appropriate), and then consuming (the chest, which rose, the breathing that changed from the calm breathing of a Sunday morning to the particular breathing of a man whose entire understanding of his life has just been restructured and the restructuring is producing rage because rage is what happens when love discovers that it has been living next to cruelty and didn't know).”