I didn’t sleep the night the press coverage broke. I tried—God, I tried—but my body stayed wired, half-braced, as if the walls might fall in at any moment. My thoughts wouldn’t quiet. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw headlines layered on headlines, their sharp fonts cutting through my skin like they had been designed to wound.

By morning, I was already dressed. I hadn’t even undressed, really. I had pulled on a soft wrap and wandered barefoot through the boutique in silence, ...