I sat on the edge of a rocking chair that looked familiar—it might have been in Catalina’s room before. The old me would have known exactly what to say, how to engage Catalina in conversation and defuse our mutual discomfort. But after living like Cristóbal for a couple of weeks, I’d learned to appreciate silence. In some ways, I’d become more contemplative and introspective.

“You look so nice,” Catalina said. “So different.”

“And you look beautiful in pink,” I said.

“Thank you.”

I sat with my ankles crossed and my hands clasped in my lap. Someone was at the door. Catalina stood, nervously.

“I’m home!” Angélica said from the foyer.

Catalina stared at me, uncertain. I remained in my seat, though I could feel my pulse speeding up.

“I found the loveliest fabric at Le Parisien,” she said, entering the room, wearing a lovely mint frock. She nearly dropped the parcel in her hands when she saw me.

“Buenas tardes, Angélica,” I said.

She stood up straight and raised her chin.

“What are you doing here?”

My mind went blank. I had a speech planned. I knew exactly what and how I was going to say it, but the whole, rehearsed speech died on my lips.

“Visiting.” Alberto reentered the room, followed by Rosita carrying a metal tray with a teapot and three porcelain cups. The color drained from her face when she saw Angélica and me in the same room. Alberto spoke louder, with an almost annoyed tone, “What else would she be doing?”

“I don’t know,” Angélica said. “Maybe she wants more money?”

“Oh, stop it, Angélica. Haven’t you caused enough damage already?” He turned toward Rosita. “Just set that tray on the table and leave, please.”

Alberto sounded more assertive than ever. Gone was the youthful friendliness I’d seen at the bar when I’d just met him.

“I have caused damage?” Angélica said.

“What do you call that lawsuit you made us sign?” he said.

“Nobody forced you.”

“You took advantage of our vulnerable state. We were confused, angry, hurt.”

I stood up. “Please. I didn’t come here to fight. I don’t want to cause more conflict between you. Between us.”

“Then what do you want?” Angélica said, the veins in her forehead visible.

“I want . . . I came to make a truce.”

The three of them stood silent.