Part of me wanted to go back to before the coffee cup, before Paula, before the post, before the ultrasound room.
But life does not reverse because a man finally feels consequences.
“No,” I said quietly.
His face fell.
“We cannot fix what we had. It’s gone.”
He stared at the table.
I placed one hand over my belly.
“But we can decide what kind of father you are allowed to become.”
His eyes lifted.
Allowed.
That word mattered.
Valeria slid a document forward.
Temporary support.
Medical expense coverage.
Communication through a parenting app.
No direct unscheduled visits.
No involvement from Dolores without my consent.
Public correction of his false accusation.
Therapy.
Completion of vasectomy follow-up and full medical disclosure.
Diego looked at the list.
His lawyer looked pained.
I felt no sympathy.
Diego read one clause aloud.
