Farzana stirred her tea in the cramped kitchen of their semi-detached house on the outskirts of Manchester, the kind of place where the neighbors' arguments echoed through thin walls like a bad radio signal. At 35, she had settled into the rhythm of her life as a British Pakistani wife and mother, her long dark hair tied back in a practical ponytail, brown eyes scanning the rain-streaked window. Mohsin, her husband of twe...