Across the city, Meera was fighting the same battle. She was sitting on the floor with Rahul. They were building a Lego tower. It was a rare, quiet Sunday. Rahul was laughing—a deep, belly laugh that Meera realized she hadn't heard in months because she was usually on a conference call during his playtime. The light hit Rahul’s face perfectly. He looked angelic. This is perfect content, Meera’s "Superwoman" brain calculated. A picture of this would prove to the mom-groups that I am balanced. It would prove to my mother-in-law that I am a good mother. She reached for her phone. "Wait, beta, smile at mama," she said. Rahul’s face changed instantly. The belly laugh vanished. He stiffened. He put on a "Camera Smile"—a fake, toothy grimace he had learned to perform on command. The moment died. The connection snapped. They had shifted from Intimacy to Performance. Meera looked at the screen. She had captured the image, but she had killed the joy.