You don’t respond to Esteban Valdés right away.

Instead, you look him over—the polished watch, the expensive tie, the confidence that feels rehearsed. Then your gaze returns to Ximena, and something shifts. A moment ago, she seemed quiet, tired, too young to carry that kind of stillness. Now she looks like a child who senses danger before anyone else dares to name it.
That kind of fear doesn’t appear without reason.
You’ve spent enough of your life recognizing it when it tries to hide. It shows up in tense shoulders, careful voices, apologies spoken before they’re asked for. Right now, it’s in the way Ximena grips her backpack until her knuckles pale. And when Esteban glances at her—just once, too quickly—you know this isn’t only about missing pay.
You straighten slowly, letting silence speak.