Irene raised an eyebrow.
—What a polite mistress.
-Lot.
—Okay. We’re going to respond to her divorce petition. And we’re going to request measures to protect her financially during her pregnancy. We’re also going to document the defamation, the abandonment, and the pressure she exerted to sign an abusive agreement.
—And the babies?
—Babies are not bargaining chips. If he wants to acknowledge them, he should do it the right way. If he wants proof, it will be done when appropriate, and not to humiliate her.
I breathed.
For the first time since the two lines, I felt like someone was holding a lamp in the middle of the dark room.
Diego appeared at the door three days later.
He didn’t scream.
He didn’t hit.
He had several days’ growth of beard and dark circles under his eyes.
—I need to see you.
—Talk to my lawyer.
—Laura, please. It’s me.
I looked at him through the peephole.
—That was the problem. That it really was you.
He remained silent.
“I broke up with Paola,” he said.
I almost laughed.
-Congratulations.
—Don’t be like that.
I barely opened the door, with the chain.
I wanted to see his face when he understood.
—So what? Hurt? Lucid? Pregnant with your children and still not wanting to comfort you?
Her eyes filled with tears.
—I thought you had deceived me.
—And you decided to punish me before even confirming. That wasn’t pain, Diego. It was permission. You were waiting for an excuse to leave with her without feeling guilty.
Her face twisted.
Because the truth doesn’t always need medical tests.
Sometimes it just needs to be said out loud.
—Paola looked for me when I was confused—he murmured.
—Paola didn’t pack your suitcase. Paola didn’t force you to post that photo. Paola didn’t make you bring me an agreement to take my house.
He lowered his head.
—My lawyer handled the house situation.
—The lawyer doesn’t sleep in your body.
Silence.
—You’re not coming in, Diego.
-Never?
That word brought fear.
