“Yes,” he replied, simply.
Silence followed, thicker than before, as if the room itself had absorbed the statement and was now holding it in place, refusing to let it dissipate.
Mariana shook her head slightly, almost imperceptibly, her eyes beginning to glisten as she struggled to reconcile what she had believed with what she was hearing.
Ximena crossed her arms tighter, her posture defensive now, not against anyone in particular, but against the uncertainty that had suddenly taken hold.
Valeria inhaled deeply, then slowly released the breath, as if trying to steady herself before speaking, though the words did not come immediately.
Ricardo felt an unexpected wave of relief begin to rise within him, subtle but undeniable, followed almost instantly by something else—guilt.
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Relief meant escape, a way out of responsibility, a return to the life he had known, predictable, controlled, untouched by the chaos that had briefly entered.
But guilt came just as quickly, reminding him of the promises he had made, the sincerity he had shown, the trust he had been given.
He remembered the phone calls, the hesitation in their voices, the courage it must have taken for each of them to share their news.
He had said he would take responsibility, not knowing what that would truly mean, but believing, at least in that moment, that he was doing the right thing.
Now, the truth offered him an exit, clean and definitive, supported by science, by evidence, by something that could not be easily argued against.
Yet the room did not feel lighter.
Instead, the air seemed heavier, as if the absence of obligation had created a different kind of weight, one that settled deeper, harder to define.
Mariana spoke again, her voice quieter now, “So… what does this mean for us?”
It was not a question directed only at the doctor.
Ricardo understood that immediately.
Ximena looked at him then, not with anger, but with expectation, as if waiting to see what kind of man he would choose to be in this moment.
