Pilar had sat and stewed in it like slices of fruit pickling in sugared vinegar. She waited it out, allowing the sure knowledge of whatever this was seep in and move slowly through her veins.
And all throughout the waiting time, she confided in no one, not her closest friends. She was too proud and too private. It was bad enough to suspect this herself, but she could not bear the
thought of anyone else knowing. And just when Pilar thought she couldn’t take another day of it, out it came.
In the end, it was Portia herself who had told her. The girl never could keep a secret and certainly, she always came running to her Ate. When Portia appeared at their house in the middle of the
day, gaunt and pale and swollen around the eyes, her dark hair loose and unkempt in messy layers, Pilar knew
