But the moment he held him in his arms, Alejandro froze.
The baby had the same deep-set black eyes and identical dimples he’d had as a child.
Alejandro froze, his heart pounding; the sounds in the room seemed to fade away. A teardrop-shaped birthmark on the baby’s left shoulder almost convinced him: it was a rare genetic trait in his family, inherited from his grandfather, his father, and himself.
The nurse reached out to receive the baby, but Alejandro remained motionless for a few seconds before reacting. She gently stroked the little boy’s cheek and then handed him over to be cleaned and swaddled.
Valeria lay in bed, breathing heavily, avoiding his gaze as he approached.
“Why… didn’t you tell me?” Alejandro asked, his voice breaking.
Valeria bit her lip, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“I… I was thinking about telling you. But then everything turned into chaos. My family was pressuring me, you were busy… I was afraid you’d hate me, afraid you’d leave me…”
Alejandro remained silent, looking down at the baby they had returned to him, and took it with trembling hands. A strange feeling, a mixture of familiarity and discovery, enveloped him. A powerful instinct emerged within him: a father’s instinct.
—Valeria… no matter what happened, I’m not going to leave you or our son alone, he said slowly, in a firm voice, like a promise.
She looked at him, her eyes still red but filled with a glimmer of hope. Outside, in the hallway, the baby’s clear cry echoed, as if announcing a new beginning… not only for the child, but also for two people who had once lost each other.
