When he drove her back, the driver remained up front and the partition stayed lowered, leaving the city’s murmur to fill the spaces between them.
At a red light, Fernando said, “Sofía called my legal office this morning.”
Valeria turned sharply. “Why would she do that?”
“She wanted to know whether my people could review the financial transfers connected to your divorce. She did not give details beyond what was necessary.”
Embarrassment moved through her like heat. Sofía, with her loyal impatience, had done what Valeria had been too proud to request.
“I didn’t ask her to,” Valeria said.
“I know.”
Those two words landed without judgment, which only made her more defensive.
“I’m not looking for rescue.”
Fernando looked ahead as the light changed. “Neither was I when someone first helped me after my wife became ill. Need and rescue are not the same thing.”
The car rolled forward, and for a few blocks only the wipers spoke.
That night, Valeria argued with Sofía until both were exhausted.
“You don’t have the luxury of pride anymore,” Sofía snapped, then instantly regretted the phrasing.
