CHAPTER 42
“Love is the answer, even when the questions seem impossible…”
DIEGO BITTENCOURT
“Dad… are we gonna play today?”
I knelt down so I was eye level with my son, taking in the spark of innocence in his eyes—so untouched by how complicated the world really was.
“Not today, buddy,” I said softly, “but there’s something important I need to tell you. Something… I found out a few days ago.”
He looked at me, curious but a little tense, like he could sense this wasn’t one of our usual talks.
I took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. I didn’t want to scare him, but I couldn’t dance around the truth either.
“Do you remember when you asked me if you’d ever have a new mom?”
He nodded, his eyes widening.
“Well,” I said slowly, “you have a little sister now.”
His eyes lit up, and a huge smile spread across his face.
“A little sister? Really?”
I nodded, keeping my tone calm and steady.
“Yeah, she was just born. Her name’s Clara.”
He fell silent for a moment, processing what I’d said. Then his expression turned serious, and he asked,
“When can I see her?”
“Soon, I promise. But you need to understand… things are a little complicated right now.”
He frowned, clearly trying to wrap his head around what complicated meant.
How do you explain to a child that the adult world is made up of mistakes, regrets, and feelings that never quite fit in the right place?
“And… does that mean I’m gonna have a mom now?” His question came out hesitant, and my heart clenched.
That was the one question I didn’t have a real answer for.
I ran a hand through his hair, buying time but also trying to find the gentlest way to respond.
“I don’t know, son,” I admitted quietly. “But what I can promise is that I’ll always be here for you—and for your little sister. We’ll figure it out together, okay?”
He looked me right in the eyes, as if searching for the truth in what I’d said. Then he nodded, accepting it with the kind of resilience only kids seem to have.
“Okay, Dad. I wanna meet Clara soon.”
I smiled, relieved that he didn’t press the question about a mom any further. But I knew that thought would keep circling in his mind—just like it did in mine.
As he went back to playing, I dropped onto the couch, feeling drained. It wasn’t a physical kind of exhaustion—it was mental, emotional. Nothing in my life felt settled, and I knew there was a long road ahead.
But at least I understood what mattered most now: doing right by my kids, even if the rest of my life was a mess.
And deep down, watching my son play, I knew I’d eventually have to face my feelings for Maria Gabriela too.
For now, though, I needed to focus on what I could control—being a present father and trying, somehow, not to screw everything up again.