CHAPTER 15: WHAT WE CLAIM
325 Words
The mediation room was smaller than Valeria expected.
Neutral colors. Neutral faces. A table positioned carefully so no one appeared to have more space than the others. Still, Valeria felt the imbalance immediately—the weight of history on one side, survival on the other.
Lucía sat across from her, posture rigid, hands folded tightly in her lap. Mateo wasn’t there. Valeria was relieved and unsettled by that at the same time.
The mediator cleared his throat.
“Thank you for coming,” he began.
Valeria almost laughed. As if gratitude had anything to do with this.
“I didn’t know about you,” Lucía said suddenly, breaking protocol. Her voice was quiet, but firm.
Valeria met her gaze. “I didn’t know about you either.”
Silence stretched between them, thick and uncomfortable.
“My son lives in that apartment,” Lucía continued. “This isn’t just property to me.”
Valeria felt the familiar tightening in her chest—but she didn’t retreat.
“My life was built with him,” she replied. “This isn’t just betrayal.”
The mediator shifted in his chair, attempting to redirect the conversation back to legalities. Percentages. Options. Compromises that satisfied no one.
Outside, rain tapped steadily against the windows, like punctuation marking each unresolved sentence.
That night, Valeria went to Tomás.
She didn’t need comfort. She needed grounding.
They moved together slowly, deliberately—touch becoming language, reassurance without promises.
“You’re allowed to want this,” Tomás whispered against her skin.
“I know,” she replied. “I just won’t lose myself again.”
Meanwhile, Lucía sat at her kitchen table, Mateo’s drawing spread out in front of her. A house. A sun. Two stick figures holding hands.
Lucía pressed her fingers to the paper, throat tightening.
Whatever the court decided, neither woman would win completely.
But both could choose what kind of fight this would be.
Not for a man.
For dignity.
- Writer
