“I do,” she says firmly.
You slowly sit up, holding the paper sheet against your stomach.
For weeks, Diego’s disgust has lived inside your skin. His voice has followed you into the bathroom, the grocery store, your empty bed, your nightmares. Who is it? Tell me who the father is.
Now the room has the answer.
And he still refuses to hear it.
You look at him.
“Diego,” you say quietly. “This baby was conceived before your vasectomy.”
His jaw tightens. “That doesn’t prove anything.”
Dr. Salinas’ expression hardens. “It proves your accusation has no medical basis.”
Paola’s hand slips from Diego’s arm.
It is small, almost invisible.
But you see it.
For the first time, Paola is not smiling.
Diego turns toward her, and something flashes between them. Not love. Not shock. Something uglier.
Fear.
You catch it immediately.
Your stomach tightens.
“What is it?” you ask.
Diego looks back at you too quickly. “Nothing.”
But Dr. Salinas is still watching Paola.
The doctor’s eyes narrow slightly. “Mrs. Laura, did your husband bring this woman into your appointment with your permission?”
“No,” you say.
Dr. Salinas reaches for the phone beside the ultrasound machine. “Then they need to leave.”
Diego’s face reddens. “I’m her husband.”
“And this is her medical appointment,” the doctor replies. “You do not have the right to enter without consent.”
Paola pulls at his sleeve. “Diego, let’s go.”
You stare at her.
There is something in her voice now.
Not confidence.
Urgency.
“Wait,” you say.
Everyone looks at you.
You turn to Paola. “Why do you want to leave now?”
She blinks. “Because this is uncomfortable.”
“No,” you say. “You were perfectly comfortable when you came in to watch my humiliation.”
Diego snaps, “Enough, Laura.”
You ignore him.
Your eyes stay on Paola’s face.
“You wanted the doctor to say I was far enough along to make me look guilty,” you say slowly. “But she said the opposite. And now you’re scared.”
Paola laughs, but it comes out thin. “You’re emotional.”
There it is again.
