When I approached the entrance, I saw my wife.
She was by the railing, with her huge pregnant belly under a pink T-shirt and white pants.
In one hand he held a bottle of water and in the other, a lit cigarette.
I was frozen.
He took a deep puff to the cigarette and then expelled the smoke calmly.
I walked up and asked him how he could do something like that to our daughter, who was not yet born.
Linda didn't even seem ashamed.
He told me that I didn't understand anything about women and that nothing was going to happen for a single cigarette.
But it was not a single cigarette.
I discovered it that same night.
Linda was in the bathroom when I heard her phone ringing inside the bag.
While I was looking for the phone, I saw a hospital envelope.
I was written my wife's name.
