I sit in silence, my hands pressed together on my lap as Catalina and my mother stare at each other. The air between them feels heavy, like something sacred and fragile lives there.

My mother’s eyes are wet but she doesn’t cry. She only looks at her sister with that half-smile she wears when she’s trying not to fall apart.

Then she looks away first.

“I was never strong like you,” she says, voice breaking just a little. “You always had everything under control.”

Catalina laughs ...