The man who once danced with me in our kitchen because our favorite song came on the radio.

The man who had promised me that no matter what happened, we would always talk before judging each other.

But that man had disappeared somewhere between the pregnancy test and the suitcase.

Or perhaps I had simply never known him as well as I thought.

I turned around.

“Love isn’t only what you feel when everything is easy.”

He remained silent.

“It’s what you do before you decide someone has betrayed you.”

Then I walked out.

Three Days Later

My phone wouldn’t stop ringing.

Diego called.

His mother called.

Even people I barely knew sent messages.

Some apologized.

Others asked questions.

One neighbor admitted she had believed the rumors.

Another said she had never believed them at all.

I didn’t answer most of them.

I had something more important to think about.

My baby.

And myself.

Then an unexpected envelope arrived.

It was from Diego’s lawyer.

For a moment, I assumed it was another demand.

Instead, it contained a revised document.

The divorce petition had been withdrawn.

The clause demanding reimbursement for supposed marital expenses was gone.

So was the request that I surrender the house.

At the bottom was a handwritten note.

Three words.

I’m sorry, Laura.

I stared at it for a long time.

Then I put it away.

An apology could be accepted without erasing what happened.

A week later, Diego asked to attend my next appointment.

I almost refused.

Then I realized something.

This wasn’t about him.

It was about the child.

So I agreed—with one condition.

He would come alone.

He did.

No Paula.

No mother.

No lawyer.

Just Diego.

When he entered the waiting room, he looked exhausted.

He sat several chairs away from me.

For several minutes, neither of us spoke.

Finally, he said quietly:

“I got the follow-up test.”