Lucía was waiting on the steps.
She held two paper cups of coffee.
"How does freedom taste?" she asked.
I took one.
"Like very expensive legal fees."
She burst out laughing.
So did I.
We laughed until tears ran down our faces and strangers turned to look.
Then she linked her arm through mine.
"Come on. Mamá's making lunch."
We walked through Madrid beneath a pale winter sun.
For the first time in years, I wasn't worried about getting home before Javier.
I wasn't rehearsing explanations.
I wasn't wondering whether my clothes, my purchases, or my words would provoke an argument.
I was simply walking beside my sister.
And that ordinary freedom felt extraordinary.
That spring, I expanded my business.
We hired two more consultants and moved into a brighter office with large windows overlooking a tree-lined street.
I insisted that the meeting room have a round table.
