DIEGO BITTENCOURT
“Are you okay, Daddy?”
Arthur’s little voice pulled me out of the dark fog of my thoughts like a lighthouse cutting through the night.
I looked at him—my son—sitting next to me on the couch, his wide, curious eyes always taking in everything around him. I forced a smile, one I hoped he’d believe, even though inside I was anything but fine.
“Yeah, champ,” I said, forcing calm into my voice. “Just… thinking about a few things.”
I’d come home early today, something I hardly ever did, but I desperately needed a distraction. We were watching a cartoon, bright and noisy, the kind of thing that should’ve kept my mind off the chaos swirling since that conversation with Maria Gabriela.
But her image wouldn’t leave my head.
Maria Gabriela, standing in front of me, that frightened look in her eyes, tears streaming down her face. Her words—saying she was pregnant, saying the baby was mine—kept echoing in my skull without mercy.
I tried to push the thought away, to reason with myself, because it didn’t make sense.
I’d always been careful, especially after what happened with Arthur’s mother. I couldn’t risk going through something like that again.
The pain, the loss, the guilt…
Once had been enough.
I drew a deep breath, trying to anchor myself in the present. Arthur was laughing at something on TV, and I forced myself to follow along. He didn’t need to know what was going on inside my head.
He deserved a father who was present, who put him first.
I looked at his smile, the pure joy shining in his eyes, and it squeezed something inside my chest.
My son was everything to me.
I’d promised myself I’d never let another woman into my life like that again. I couldn’t risk it.
But then Maria Gabriela had shown up, shaking my world. She’d slipped into my life in a way I hadn’t seen coming, and no matter how hard I tried to resist, there was something about her that pulled me in.
I couldn’t even explain what it was. Maybe her determination, her intelligence, or the way she wasn’t afraid to stand up to me—something so few people ever did.
But now…
Anger and confusion churned inside me.
How could she say she was carrying my child? How could she expect me to believe that, after everything I’d been through?
This whole situation dragged me back to Arthur’s mother—to the lies, the broken promises, to how it had all ended.
Arthur tugged at my sleeve, snapping me out of it again. His big brown eyes, so much like mine, were filled with quiet curiosity.
“Why are you so quiet today, Daddy?” he asked, his little face lined with real worry.
“Just thinking about work, champ,” I said, trying to sound casual.
I did feel something for my secretary—something I’d been trying to ignore for months.
I thought she wasn’t like the others. There was a sincerity, a stubborn determination about her that drew me in. But now everything was buried under this cloud of doubt and anger.
My fists clenched without me realizing. The thought of being deceived again made my blood boil.
I looked at Arthur again, and for a split second, I imagined what it would be like if there were another child—another small life depending on me, looking at me the way Arthur did now.
The idea terrified me. It left me torn in two.
I tried to shove the thoughts aside, forcing myself to focus on my son, on the little things he was saying, his innocent questions about the cartoons.
But the image of my secretary, alone in her office, broken by my words, wouldn’t leave my mind.
In my own way, I was lost.