Paula folded her arms.

“So you’re saying the baby is his?”

The doctor shook her head.

“I am saying the pregnancy appears to have started before the vasectomy. I am not determining paternity from an ultrasound.”

That distinction mattered.

But everyone in the room understood what the timeline meant.

Diego’s shoulders dropped.

I could almost see the memories moving through his mind.

The weeks before his surgery.

The evenings we had spent together.

The conversations about starting a family.

The nights when he had held me and talked about how much he wanted a child.

Then came the accusation.

The suitcase.

The divorce papers.

The public humiliation.

His mother calling me a liar.

And Paula standing beside him.

I wiped my tears.

“You never even asked me.”

Diego looked at me.

“I thought…”

“You thought I betrayed you.”

He lowered his eyes.

“I thought the surgery meant…”

“You thought you knew everything.”

My voice shook.

“But you never bothered to check.”

The doctor quietly excused herself for a moment to update the medical notes and give us privacy.

The door closed.

For several seconds, nobody moved.

Then Paula whispered, “Diego…”

He turned toward her.

“Not now.”

She looked startled.

“But—”

“I said not now.”

It was the first time I’d ever heard him speak to her that way.

I almost laughed.

Not because anything was funny.

Because the same man who had treated me like a criminal only days earlier suddenly seemed unsure of everything.

He took a step toward me.

“Laura…”

I stepped back.

“Don’t.”

He stopped.

“I made a mistake.”

“A mistake?”

He swallowed.

“I was angry.”

“You weren’t just angry.”

My voice became quieter.

“You destroyed my reputation.”

He said nothing.

“You told your family.”

Silence.

“You told our friends.”

His eyes dropped.

“You moved in with her.”

Paula looked away.

“You tried to make me sign away my rights to our home.”