It was a Saturday afternoon. My family had been playing mahjong — a complex game in which players form sets of matching tiles — for an hour or two and we’d just finished a round. We shuffled the tiles for the next round, shifting the pink and white pieces around the length of the table for a few minutes. I wasn’t really good at the game: My brother and I had just recently been introduced to all the rules. My hands were still getting used to the feel of the tiles’ plastic, smooth against my fingers. As I stacked my row of tiles, the blank pink sides facing up, my mom spoke.