María José brought my family as an excuse to skip breakfast like it didn't mean anything. Like skipping breakfast before a battle was some casual Tuesday decision. But I saw it. I saw the tension tightening her shoulders beneath that suit. The faint tremble in her fingers when she reached for her folder. The too-fast blink that screamed she was trying not to spiral.
And María José was not a spiraler. She was a conqueror. Which was why it hit me right in the chest.
"You're nervous," I said, the words falling from my mouth before I could sugarcoat them.
She froze in her tracks, back still to me. "I'm not."
I stepped even closer slowly and carefully because I knew that voice. It was the one she used when she was barely holding it together. When she was trying to convince herself more than me.
"María," I said gently, walking up behind her, placing a hand on the curve of her hip. "It's me. You don't have to pretend."
