As Alejandro lifted the child into his arms, he froze again.
The infant bore the same dark, deep-set eyes and identical dimples Alejandro himself had as a boy.
His pulse thundered. The sounds of the room seemed to fade. Then he noticed it—a tiny teardrop-shaped birthmark on the baby’s shoulder. The rare family mark, passed from his grandfather to his father, and to him.
The nurse extended her hands for the newborn. Alejandro hesitated before surrendering the child. She stroked the boy’s cheek tenderly, then carried him away to be cleaned and swaddled.
When Alejandro turned back, Valeria lay exhausted on the bed, her gaze averted.
“Why… why didn’t you ever tell me?” Alejandro asked, his voice hoarse.
Her lips quivered as tears slipped free.
“I… I wanted to. But everything collapsed around me. My parents pressured me, you were drowning in work… I thought you’d hate me, thought you’d leave me…”
Alejandro stood in silence until the nurse returned the newborn, now bundled and warm. As he cradled his son, his hands trembled. A rush of recognition and revelation swept over him, awakening something primal—the instinct of a father.
“Valeria… no matter what happened before, I will never abandon you. Or our son,” he declared, his voice firm and resolute.
