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Her aunt says nothing. She pulls her chair closer, rests a hand on Claudia's back, and draws her in. Claudia lets herself fall against Elvira's chest and cries with her face pressed to her shoulder while Elvira wraps both arms around her and lets her, because somehow she understands that what happened today is not the real reason Claudia is crying—it's the last drop that's broken the dam, finally letting out everything she's been holding inside.

Claudia cries because she has spent her whole life feeling like an object her parents have never stopped trying to shape and polish, searching for a way to fit her into a mold that was never hers. She cries because they took away the one thing she's good at and loves, and because she's hurt the one person who doesn't look at her like she's just a last name. And she cries because she's so tired of fighting everything that she has no strength left to keep going.

Her aunt doesn't ask her to stop. She doesn't tell her to calm down or that everything will be okay, or any of those things people say because watching someone cry makes them uncomfortable and they want it to end. She holds her and waits, running a hand through her hair every now and then, until the sobs begin to space out and she finally goes still.

"I don't want that position. I don't want to work with them anywhere," she whispers suddenly, and Elvira isn't sure whether it's a thought or whether she's talking to her.

She pulls her in tighter and presses her lips to the top of her head, holding her face against her hair for a moment before she speaks.

"So why don't you take all that rage you're carrying and fight for what you actually want, instead of hiding behind behavior that we both know isn't you?"

Claudia shrugs instead of answering, because that's the question she should have asked herself a long time ago. She straightens up slowly, her eyes swollen and red, a few strands of hair stuck to her forehead and cheeks. Elvira cups her face in both hands, wipes away the dampness with her thumbs, and brushes the hair back, tucking it behind her ears before leaning in and kissing her forehead.

"On Monday you'll go back to pattern-making with Remei," she says quietly. "I think that's where you belong."

Claudia swallows and presses her lips together to keep them from trembling.

"And tonight, when your shift is over, you're coming to my place for dinner. Does that work?"

"Yes," Claudia answers, and her aunt nods, gives her knee a squeeze, and stands up.

Chapter 22

"How are you?"

"Jesus," Claudia mumbles, nearly coughing her heart out from the shock.

She's just walked out through the factory door and Laia is waiting for her under the awning. They look at each other for a moment, and Laia furrows her brows when she sees Claudia's expression—her eyes are still a little puffy from crying that morning, and there's a pallor on her face that makes her look more dead than alive.

"I'm fine," she answers as they walk toward the parking lot, until Claudia stops dead and stops Laia too, grabbing her by the arm. "I didn't say anything this morning, but I'm sorry about what my dad said to you. Sometimes he's—"

"Don't apologize for something he said."

"Of course I will, all of this is my fault." She shakes her head and her gaze drops to the ground. "I should've put him in his place sooner, defended you better, but I was—"

She goes quiet because she can't find the word, but Laia finds one immediately.

"Overwhelmed," the assistant finishes, and Claudia looks up. "I know. Don't worry about it."

Claudia manages a bitter smile.

"Don't worry about it," she says under her breath, irritated.

"Listen." Laia's tone turns firm. "I'm not worried about what your dad might say or think about me—his opinions don't matter to me, because I know exactly the kind of person I am. The one I'm worried about is you. Are you really okay?"

Claudia looks at her without answering, because again there's a knot in her throat that makes swallowing difficult. Her lips have parted slightly and her chest aches with anxiety.

"I don't know what's going on with you, Claudia," Laia says, stepping a little closer without crowding her space, "but I'm here. You can talk to me if you need to. Don't just see me as someone who chases you down at night or another woman you slept with—I can be more than that."

Claudia's eyes grow wet because she doesn't even know what she feels anymore, and today is worse than ever. She's so confused in general that her mind disconnects again all at once—her gaze drifts out toward the sea and she goes very still. Laia's heart lurches, because even though it isn't the first time she's witnessed the exact moment it happens, the way Claudia's eyes lose focus and her arms fall slack at her sides, she can't get used to it.

"Claudia," she whispers, and brushes her hand with her fingers again.

She does it slowly, running her fingertips across Claudia's palm and then wrapping around it and squeezing gently, feeling the icy cold of her skin despite the warm weather. Claudia needs a few more seconds to come back to herself, but she has been aware of the contact—her skin has gone to goosebumps—and when she turns her head, she manages to focus her eyes on Laia, though she still doesn't quite seem to see her.

"This thing that happens to you worries me too, Claudia," Laia says without letting go. "It happens a lot, and I've been looking into it a little, but there are too many descriptions that could fit—" Claudia blinks, and now she really sees her—"maybe you should see a doctor and get some tests done."

Claudia takes a deep breath and lets the air out through her nose, offering a tired smile.