In the photograph of the prizewinning collection, Ajla immediately recognized the small depression beneath the handle. It was not decoration but her thumbprint, which her mentor had praised as the cup's most alive feature. She had made twelve pieces during a paid residency in his workshop. They had agreed to exhibit together under separate names. Now the poster displayed only his, in large white letters across a tablecloth she had also provided.
She sent him a short message with the photograph. He replied that organizers simplified stories and that her time would come. Ajla knew that sentence: she had heard it while cleaning the kiln instead of speaking with journalists, while carrying boxes as others held glasses. Now she opened the folder of photographs showing the cups being made. Every stage had a date, and his proposal for a joint exhibition remained in their messages.
Her boyfriend advised publishing everything that evening. Ajla did not want to turn anger into a disordered accusation. She wrote to the organizer, attached a limited selection of evidence, and requested corrected authorship before the launch. Her mentor called five times. When she answered, he offered money and a future recommendation on condition she contacted nobody else. For the first time, she clearly heard that her silence had a price he already knew how to calculate.
The organizer temporarily withdrew the poster. She reviewed the drawings and requested statements from both of them. The mentor claimed choosing the glaze was enough to make the pieces part of his collection. Ajla did not deny his contribution: she credited it precisely as agreed. That made it harder to present her as ungrateful. To their meeting, she brought one failed cup, cracked before firing, with the same depression beneath the handle and her initials impressed underneath. The organizer turned the cup toward the window, read the letters aloud, and wrote them down before continuing the conversation.
They held the launch a week later with a corrected description. Her mentor did not attend. Ajla stood beside the pieces and answered questions about temperature, glaze, and slow drying. A few people wanted to hear about the quarrel, but she returned the conversation to the cups. Later she and her boyfriend removed the final box from the workshop. She had no new space, which frightened her. Nevertheless, while wrapping the cracked piece, she left its bottom visible. Her name was no longer a detail that could be hidden beneath the tablecloth.