Lucía’s expression hardened. “He’s not here. He left months ago.”
“I need his name.”
“Why?” she snapped, fear turning into anger. “What’s wrong with my son?!”
Dr. Vega looked at her with eyes full of decades of regret.
“Please,” he whispered. “Just tell me his name.”
Lucía hesitated, then said quietly, “Adrián Vega.”
The room fell deathly silent.
Dr. Esteban Vega closed his eyes as a single tear rolled down his cheek.
“Adrián… is my son.”
---
**The Revelation**
For a moment, no one moved.
Lucía stared at the older man in shock. The nurse stood frozen beside the bassinet. Even the machines seemed to quiet.
Dr. Vega pulled up a chair and sat down heavily, never taking his eyes off the baby.
“I haven’t seen Adrián in almost two years,” he said, voice cracking. “We had a terrible falling out. He blamed me for pushing him too hard, for caring more about success than family. When he left home, he cut me off completely.”
He reached out with trembling fingers and gently touched the baby’s tiny hand.
“This birthmark…” he continued, “my father had it. Adrián has it. And now… my grandson.”
Lucía’s mind was spinning.
“You’re… Adrián’s father?”
Dr. Vega nodded slowly.
“I knew he was seeing someone seriously. He mentioned a woman named Lucía once, but I never imagined…” His voice broke. “I never imagined this.”
Lucía began to cry — not from pain, but from the overwhelming wave of emotions crashing over her. Relief. Confusion. Anger. Hope.
“I did this alone,” she whispered. “Every appointment. Every ultrasound. Every night I was scared. He left me like I was nothing.”
Dr. Vega looked at her with deep regret.
“I’m so sorry, Lucía. My son… he can be selfish. I tried to teach him better, but somewhere along the way, I failed him.”
