They are small figures moving through a subway station on a Saturday in Manhattan — a mother and her son speaking softly to each other in Burmese.

Than Than Htwe, 58, is a homebody, content to stay at her family’s Brooklyn apartment on the weekend meditating or simmering fish in a pot of lemongrass and ginger. But she scheduled a doctor’s appointment for this morning so it would not conflict with her job stitching custom aprons.

By Ms. Htwe’s side is her only child, Kyaw Zaw Hein. At 22, he carries the hopes of his family on slight shoulders. His parents waited more than a decade in Myanmar for a visa so he could attend an American university. They arrived just three years ago.

Mr. Hein stays close to his mother as they climb the stairs that lead to Canal Street in Chinatown, where the July sun waits. He feels protective of her and looks forward to the day when he earns a salary that provides for all of them.

The landing is in sight when Ms. Htwe urges her son to “run up.”

Perhaps she is merely trying to hurry them along. Perhaps she has seen the man behind them with the angry eyes.

Mr. Hein attempts to quicken his steps, but he feels a hand bearing down on his blue backpack that then yanks him off his feet until his body is falling. He does not know that his mother has somehow also been forced backward, that she is tumbling down the stairs, that her head has smacked against the tile floor.

When his eyes adjust, he is on the ground, his backpack still on. The man who pulled him down is hovering nearby, a look of disdain on his face. For a moment, Mr. Hein worries he will be hurt again. But then the man disappears into the station.

Ms. Htwe lies on the ground, her eyes half open. Her son shakes her shoulders, calls to her, tries to cradle her head. That is when he sees the blood in her dark hair, drops of crimson on the ground. He clasps her hand. And screams.

From Myanmar to America

Behind the 1.2 million Asians who call New York City home are so many stories of arrival, newcomers who were willing to be rendered vulnerable by an unfamiliar language and culture, believing that their troubles were worth the promise of possibility.

That journey has intensified for Asian immigrants who have tried to put down roots for themselves during a recent season of fear. In addition to their daily struggles to belong, they have navigated a pandemic whose origin in China has been associated with their race.

In New York alone, victims of Asian descent have been shoved, spit on, urinated on, stabbed in the back, beaten with a hammer or cane, punched unconscious, choked and stomped and kicked in the head. There have been more than 115 anti-Asian crimes reported to the New York Police Department this year. In 2019, there were three.

The violent attacks have tended to receive attention, but with each new report, the last one seems to fade. Shattered lives play out in unknown ways. Victims have been physically and emotionally scarred, their families left to tend to them. Trajectories have been deeply altered.

For Ms. Htwe, left lifeless and bleeding on a subway station floor, it has meant an unimaginable finale for a woman whose family had emptied their savings on plane tickets to America.

She and her husband, Myint Shein, would have stayed in Yangon, Myanmar, even with its ongoing civil war and history of deadly military coups, if not for their son. They wanted to offer him a different path.

In December 2018, the family arrived in the Bensonhurst area of Brooklyn. Mr. Shein, one of 12 children, had a brother in the neighborhood who had immigrated as a teenager and was a New York police officer. Ms. Htwe also had family nearby.

Relatives helped them find a basement apartment where the sunlight was sparse and the ceilings low, but the monthly rent was $500 cheaper than on the ground floor.

Mr. Shein, 53, was hired as a sushi chef at Ushiwakamaru, a restaurant in Manhattan’s Chelsea neighborhood. He had learned the trade years ago in Tokyo, where he met Ms. Htwe, who was a waitress. They were both ethnically Chinese but born and raised in Myanmar. For their first date, they went to a flea market.

Ms. Htwe landed a job at Tilit, which made work clothing for the restaurant and hospitality industries, on the Lower East Side of Manhattan. She had earned a chemistry degree in Myanmar, but never put it to use in the country’s limited job market. At Tilit she laughed with co-workers while meticulously following detailed apron patterns. Sometimes she brought in her family’s mending.

She and her husband pooled their paychecks so their son could study math and economics at Fordham University. Mr. Hein loaded on extra classes, in a rush to get his degree. He had a stint at a doughnut shop, but his parents told him to focus only on school.

When the coronavirus reached New York City, Ms. Htwe’s and Mr. Shein’s workplaces shut down. They received some unemployment, but their stress heightened and both lost weight. Reports of anti-Asian attacks were distressing, and they warned each other to stay alert.

The virus itself was also profoundly troubling. In the early days of the pandemic, Ms. Htwe, beloved for her patience, screamed at her son if he attempted to leave the house.

The three saw relatives, but otherwise preferred to stick to one another near home, tiptoeing out a quiet life.

When her job opened back up, Ms. Htwe was the first to return to the sewing room, eager to make money. Often, the owners’ new puppy, a St. Bernard, was found at her feet. Jenny Goodman, who started Tilit with her husband, said Ms. Htwe would bring the dog purple yams and let it nuzzle up against her while she worked.

“She was a kind, kind soul.”

A hospital vigil, and a suspect

Mr. Shein was home in bed when his son called with words that did not make sense.

Ambulance. Mom hit her head. Come to the hospital.

When he arrived at Bellevue Hospital, he found that his wife of 23 years lay too still. “When you left, everything was OK,” Mr. Shein said, his voice wavering.

He and his son became regulars in the building, lingering near a woman who could not tell them what to do next. Relatives and co-workers visited. Wake up, they said, stroking her arm.

Mr. Hein served as the contact for the police, giving a statement to detectives. Images of the man believed to be the attacker were released to the media. The police soon announced that they had a suspect, identified from tips. His name was David Robinson, 52. And he could not be located.

The police called the crime a botched robbery, based on Mr. Hein’s description of the incident. But that began to bother Mr. Hein, who wondered whether he and his mother were preyed upon because of their race.

A local Asian American activist raised $10,000 as a reward for information leading to an arrest. Curtis Sliwa, the Republican candidate for mayor, held up Mr. Robinson’s photo at a news conference and said Asians were being hunted down in the city with impunity.

The events made Mr. Hein think justice would be hastened.

After 10 days, Ms. Htwe was still unconscious. On July 27, father and son stood for hours in a corner of her room. Finally, her son knelt beside her and bowed three times. Her husband said with reluctance, “This is the last time I will come to see you.”

A Rise in Anti-Asian Attacks

A torrent of hate and violence against people of Asian descent around the United States began last spring, in the early days of the coronavirus pandemic.

• • Background: Community leaders say the bigotry was fueled by President Donald J. Trump, who frequently used racist language like “Chinese virus” to refer to the coronavirus.
  • Data: The New York Times, using media reports from across the country to capture a sense of the rising tide of anti-Asian bias, found more than 110 episodes since March 2020 in which there was clear evidence of race-based hate.
  • Underreported Hate Crimes: The tally may be only a sliver of the violence and harassment given the general undercounting of hate crimes, but the broad survey captures the episodes of violence across the country that grew in number amid Mr. Trump’s comments.
  • In New York: A wave of xenophobia and violence has been compounded by the economic fallout of the pandemic, which has dealt a severe blow to New York’s Asian-American communities. Many community leaders say racist assaults are being overlooked by the authorities.
  • What Happened in Atlanta: Eight people, including six women of Asian descent, were killed in shootings at massage parlors in Atlanta on March 16. A Georgia prosecutor said that the Atlanta-area spa shootings were hate crimes, and that she would pursue the death penalty against the suspect, who has been charged with murder.

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