Relief. Love. Everything she had fought through.

“Is he okay?” she asked, her voice trembling.

The nurse smiled warmly while wrapping the baby in a soft blanket.

“He’s perfect.”

But just as she was about to place him in Lucía’s arms…

The door opened.

And everything changed.

The attending doctor stepped in — a man in his late fifties, calm and experienced, someone who usually brought instant reassurance.

Dr. Esteban Vega.

He picked up the chart, walked closer, and looked at the newborn.

Just once.

That was all it took.

He froze.

The color drained from his face.

His hand trembled slightly.

And then — something no one in the room expected —

His eyes filled with tears.

“Doctor?” the nurse asked, uneasy. “Is something wrong?”

He didn’t answer.

He couldn’t.

His gaze was fixed on the baby’s face.

The shape of the nose.

The curve of the lips.

And just beneath the left ear…

A small crescent-shaped birthmark.

Lucía struggled to sit up, panic rising quickly.

“What’s wrong? What happened to my son?!”

The doctor swallowed hard, his voice barely steady when he finally spoke.

“Where is the baby’s father?”

Lucía’s expression turned cold.

“He’s not here.”

part2

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