It was my daughter Safa’s nineteenth birthday, and I had been looking forward to seeing her all day. At forty-seven, I knew I shouldn’t still be feeling this way about my own child, but I couldn’t help myself. As I walked past her bedroom, I noticed her door was slightly ajar, and curiosity got the better of me. I stopped in my tracks, peering through the crack, and there she was—my beautiful Safa, stripping off her cloth...