My mother-in-law laughed so hard she nearly spilled her tea—apparently, her friend didn’t know what paprika is made from.

I smiled awkwardly, pretending to get the joke. Truth was, I didn’t know either. But I was too embarrassed to admit it.

There I was, stirring a pot of chicken stew in my mother-in-law Delphina’s kitchen, nodding like I understood everything. Delphina was in one of her usual moods—the kind where she enjoyed feeling superior, especially when it meant making someone else feel small. She kept glancing at me, waiting for me to laugh along, but I couldn’t even fake it.