Diego Bittencourt
“Three different labs?! Are you serious, Narcissus?!” My brother’s voice filled the room, thick with disbelief and disapproval.
I closed my eyes for a moment, trying not to let irritation take over. I was so damn tired of that nickname, but I knew it was pointless to argue. He’d keep calling me that until the end of time.
“I told you to stop calling me that,” I said, forcing myself to stay calm. I took a breath and continued, my voice steady but firm. “And yes—three labs. I don’t want her contesting the results or some mistake happening. I need to be absolutely sure.”
Alexandre shook his head, looking more disappointed than ever.
He leaned against the desk in front of me, his eyes locking on mine as if he could somehow make me see what I still refused to acknowledge.
“Don’t you think you’re going a little overboard? Getting the test done is one thing, but three different labs? It’s like you’re already convinced there’s something wrong.”
“It’s not about finding something wrong,” I said after a pause, turning to face him. “It’s about… making sure everything’s done right. I just want this to end without any more doubts—for her or for me.”
“Or maybe,” my brother countered, his voice quieter now but cutting straight through, “you’re afraid of finding out you’ve been wrong this whole time.”
The words hit like a punch. He’d always had that annoying ability to see straight through my walls—the coldness, the control.
I hesitated, my mind spinning.
Afraid? No. I couldn’t be afraid… could I?
These months away from Maria Gabriela, trying to live my life as if nothing had happened, hadn’t been as simple as I’d told myself they would be.
There was something inside me—a small spark of doubt that burned brighter every time I thought of her… and the baby.
“I’m not afraid,” I muttered, mostly to convince myself.
“Yes, you are,” Alexandre cut in, his tone laced with that older-brother authority—though we were only seconds apart. “You’re scared that, in the end, this baby really is yours. And you’re terrified of what that’ll mean—for you, for her, for your life.”
I sighed, rubbing my temples.
As much as I hated to admit it, he was right. A part of me knew that if the test came back positive, everything would change—and not just because of the baby.
It would mean facing the truth about how I felt about Maria Gabriela, something I’d been running from since the day this whole thing began.
“You’re going to regret this,” Alexandre said, his voice softer now, almost compassionate. “Refusing to believe her, putting up these walls—it’s only going to hurt you more in the long run. If that baby turns out to be yours… you’ll regret not being there from the start.”
“And what if she’s not?” I shot back, turning toward him again. “What then? How do you think I’ll feel if she isn’t?”
Alexandre shrugged.
“I don’t know. Maybe relieved. Maybe empty. But I do know this—if you keep treating the situation with this much resentment, you’re only making things worse. For yourself… and for her.”
His words hung in the air, unsettling in a way I hadn’t expected. I knew he was right, but saying it out loud felt impossible.
I walked back to my desk, trying to focus on the papers and emails in front of me, but I couldn’t stop replaying everything he’d said.
Alexandre stayed silent for a moment, giving me space to process it all. When he finally spoke again, his tone was calm, almost protective.
“I’m just trying to help, Diego. You’ve got to find a way to deal with this without destroying everything around you.”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t have one.
He sighed, heading for the door. But before he left, he turned back, giving me one last look.
“Be careful not to lose more than you already have, brother. Sometimes pride just leaves you emptier.”