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She keeps going.

“You made one phone call, and it stopped. I could not do in months what you did in one afternoon.”

“This isn’t about whether you could.”

“It is part of it.”

“Astrid.”

“No. You do not get to decide which part matters. I did everything correctly. Every form. Every meeting. Every polite email to people who did not answer. That is how it is supposed to work. You do it properly, and it works.”

“It doesn’t work like that.”

“I know that now.” Her voice doesn’t change at all. “So does Tova. She knows now which one of us counts.”

“She didn’t ask either of us.”

“She asked us both not to. One of us listened.”

I close my mouth.

“Tova is grateful to you. She is twelve and somebody finally made it stop.”

“She can be grateful and still be mad at me.”

“I know that.”

“Then what are we fighting about?”

The second it leaves me, I want it back.

Astrid gives me exactly enough time to hear myself.

“We are fighting because you knew she said no, and you did it anyway.”

I nod.

“You think admitting it is the same as understanding it.”

“I don’t.”

“You keep saying you know.”

“Because I know what I did.”

“You can recite what you did.”

I look at her.

She reaches for her bag.

My left hand closes around the edge of the counter, and the ring finger doesn’t come all the way in.

“Fuck.”

Of all the nights for it.

Astrid stops. Her eyes drop to my hand.