“And the second piece of news,” the doctor said, adjusting his glasses again, “relates to the DNA analysis conducted using your samples, Mr. Mendoza.”
A faint creak echoed as someone shifted slightly in their seat, though no one seemed willing to fully break the stillness that had taken control of the room.
Ricardo’s heart began to pound harder, not out of excitement, but from a quiet dread he could not quite explain, something deeper than fear.
“The results indicate,” the doctor continued, pausing briefly, “that biologically, you are not capable of fathering children.”
The words did not land immediately, as if they needed time to find their place inside each person present, resisting comprehension for a few long seconds.
Ricardo blinked once, then again, as though his vision had suddenly blurred, though everything in the room remained painfully clear and unchanged.
Mariana’s lips parted slightly, but no sound followed, her expression caught somewhere between confusion and an instinctive need to defend what she believed.
Ximena leaned forward just a fraction, her eyes narrowing, not in disbelief, but in the quiet calculation of someone trying to understand what had just shifted beneath her.
Valeria’s grip on her purse loosened for a moment, then tightened again, as if holding onto something tangible was the only way to remain grounded.
“I don’t understand,” Ricardo finally said, his voice lower than usual, almost unfamiliar even to himself, carrying a weight he had never heard before.
The doctor nodded gently, as if he had anticipated this exact response, his posture calm but not indifferent, careful not to rush what needed time.
“The tests suggest a long-standing medical condition,” he explained, “one that would have made natural conception biologically impossible for many years.”
Ricardo’s mind moved backward, not forward, searching through memories that suddenly felt incomplete, as though entire pieces had been missing without his noticing.
He remembered his late wife, their quiet conversations about children that never came, the subtle sadness that had lingered but was never fully spoken aloud.
A faint ringing began in his ears, soft at first, then more insistent, blending with the distant sounds of traffic outside, grounding him in the present again.
Mariana shifted in her seat, her voice trembling slightly as she spoke, “But… the timing, the dates, everything aligns with when we were together.”
Ximena exhaled slowly, her fingers tapping once against her arm, a small, controlled movement that revealed more tension than she allowed herself to show.
Valeria looked up, finally meeting Ricardo’s eyes for the first time since the doctor began speaking, her expression searching for something she could hold onto.
The doctor raised a hand slightly, not to interrupt, but to guide the conversation away from spiraling into assumptions too quickly.
“There are several possibilities,” he said carefully, “but the data we have is consistent. The genetic markers do not match in any of the three cases.”
Ricardo felt something inside him begin to crack, not loudly, not dramatically, but in a quiet, almost imperceptible way that still carried undeniable weight.
He leaned back slowly, his gaze drifting toward the window where sunlight filtered in, unchanged by the shift happening inside the room.
For a brief moment, he considered rejecting everything outright, choosing instead the simpler narrative that had formed so quickly just weeks ago.
Three women, three connections, three unexpected futures—messy, complicated, but still something he could understand, something that made sense in its own way.
Now, that version of reality was slipping, replaced by something far less defined, something that required him to question not just the present, but the past.
“Are you saying,” Ricardo began, his voice steadier now, though not stronger, “that none of these children could possibly be mine?”
The doctor met his gaze directly, not avoiding the weight of the question, not softening it unnecessarily, but also not making it harsher than it needed to be.
