Rodrigo rode at a leisurely pace, spring illuminating the gravel roads he had known since childhood, convinced that his life was finally heading in the direction he had always dreamed of.

Next to her, Valetipa enthusiastically talked about their upcoming wedding, new children, and the ambitious projects they shared, confident that the future would bring them a peaceful life without surprises.

Rodrigo had slipped out of habit, but his mind was distracted, focused on reviewing contracts, investments, and decisions received with the certainty that he had definitively abandoned his old life.

Then he saw her.

At first, it was just a leaping figure, a female figure carrying firewood along the road that ran alongside the old property that had been her home.

The horse stopped almost by itself, as if recognizing that place full of memories, and Rodrigo felt a sudden shiver run through his body without any immediate explanation.

Gabriela raised her head.

Their gazes met like a sudden, brutal, and inevitable blow, and time seemed to stand still in a dense silence that neither of them was prepared to face.

She was larger, her face lined with fatigue, but there was something impossible to ignore that occupied all the space between them.

Her belly.

Large, round, noticeable.

Rodrigo made endless calculations, dates that coincided with cruel precision, last minutes before the divorce, farewells without suspicion, promises whose consequences he had never imagined.

Her blood ran cold.

That child was his.

Valetipa noticed the change in Rodrigo's body, the sudden stiffness, the tension in his hands, the held breath as if he had seen a ghost.

"Rodrigo?" she asked, her smile fading. "What's wrong?"

He didn't answer.

Gabriela lowered her gaze at first, not out of shame but out of habit, and continued walking, as if that corridor were just another burden to carry.

That gesture hurts more than my words.

Rodrigo walked out without thinking, leaving Valenzuela behind, confused, and took a few awkward steps toward the woman who had been his wife for eight years.

“Gabriela,” she said, her name coming out guilt-laden.

He stopped.

She carefully placed the wood on the ground, protecting her belly with her firm hands; she had learned to do it herself after months of practice.

“Rodrigo,” she replied calmly. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

—I… —he swallowed—. I didn't know.

Gabriela looked into his eyes with a calm that can only be felt after enough crying.

-I know.

“Is it mine?” he asked, though the answer was already written in every gesture.

It took him a second.

—Yes. He's your son.

Rodrigo's world silently shattered.

Everything he had built, every sacrifice, every ambition, suddenly proved fragile in the face of a simple, devastating truth.

"I wanted to find you," Gabriela added. You wouldn't let me in.

He vaguely remembered that shortly after, Valeria had opened the door, saying it was the right time, that he was busy.

"I should have insisted," he muttered.

"No," she interrupted him. "You made your decision. I made mine."

Valetipa approached with a frown but relaxed expression on his face.

"What's going on?" he asked, looking first at Gabriela and then at her stomach.

Rodrigo turned to her, unable to escape.

"She is pregnant with my child.

Silence fell like a stone.

Valetipa looked at Gabriela with a mixture of surprise, judgment, and calculation, as if the woman were a predictable obstacle on a perfectly placed chessboard.

"What are you going to do?" he asked coldly.

Rodrigo hesitated.

"I don't know," he admitted. "But I can't pretend it doesn't exist."

Gabriela held her gaze.

"I don't want money," he said. "I don't want favors. I don't want to make promises out of guilt."

Rodrigo felt a tightening in his chest.

“I wanted to be there,” he said. “To give support.”

"Learn to come without importing," she replied. "Learn to listen before you decide."

Valetipa crossed her arms.

"It affects everything," he said. "Our wedding, our image, the venues."

Gabriela let out a short, tired laugh.