was twenty-three and still wearing her dark blue graduation gown.
She had dreamed about that day for years.
Not because she wanted an expensive party.
What she wanted was much smaller.
Just once, she wanted her parents to look at her and seem genuinely proud.
But that place had always belonged to Clara.
Her older sister.
Clara was the brilliant one.
The disciplined one.
The daughter who won science competitions and received applause at every family dinner.
Lucía was “the creative one.”
And whenever her mother used that phrase, it
