broken breath that seemed to come from somewhere deep in his chest.
‘Camila?’
‘Yes.
Camila.’
‘I didn’t know—’
‘You knew she was pregnant,’ Michael interrupted.
‘You knew she needed you.
I don’t know what happened between you, but you need to come here and face it.’
Michael gave him the room number and ended the call before either of them could retreat into another argument.
For the next two hours, Camila tried to rest.
Mateo slept in the bassinet beside her bed, one tiny hand curled beside his cheek.
She watched his chest rise and fall and wondered what kind of father Lucas would become if he ever chose to stay.
She wasn’t sure she wanted to find out.
At nearly eleven, the door opened.
Lucas stood in the doorway wearing a wrinkled jacket over a gray shirt.
His hair was uncombed, his eyes red, and his hands hung awkwardly at his sides.
He looked older than he had seven months earlier, but Camila felt no relief at the sight of him.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Lucas saw Mateo.
He moved toward the bassinet slowly, almost afraid someone might stop him.
When he noticed the crescent-shaped birthmark beneath the baby’s left ear, his face drained of color.
‘Oh my God,’ he whispered.
Michael stood behind him.
‘You remember the mark,’ he said quietly.
Lucas nodded.
His eyes filled with tears.
‘Grandma Elena had it.’
‘Your mother did,’ Michael answered.
‘And you do.’
Lucas reached toward the baby, then stopped before touching him.
‘Can I hold him?’
Camila looked at him for a long moment.
‘You can sit down,’ she said.
‘But before you hold him, you’re going to answer me.’
Lucas lowered himself into the chair beside the bed.
‘Why did you leave?’
He stared at his hands.
‘I panicked.’
Camila’s expression remained still.
‘You panicked for seven months?’
‘I knew I wasn’t ready.
I had just lost my job, and everything in my life was falling apart.
When you told me about the pregnancy, I felt like I was going to fail you and the baby.
I thought if I disappeared, I could figure things out before I came back.’
‘You didn’t figure anything out,’ Camila said.
‘You left me to figure out everything.’
Lucas’s eyes dropped.
‘I know.’
‘No, you don’t.
You weren’t there when I couldn’t keep food down.
You weren’t there when I worked until my back hurt so badly I couldn’t sleep.
You weren’t there when I sat in my apartment wondering whether my baby would have enough clothes for winter.
And you weren’t there today.’
Her voice shook, but she didn’t look away.
‘I told everyone you would come.
I kept making excuses for you because admitting you had abandoned us hurt too much.
And now you walk in here and ask to hold him as if being his father is something you can decide when it’s convenient.’
Lucas began to cry.
‘I am sorry, Camila.’
‘I’m sure you are.
But your regret doesn’t erase my experience.’
She turned toward Mateo, who had begun to stir.
‘You can be part of his life if you are willing to earn that privilege.
You can show up.
You can contribute.
You can take responsibility.
But you don’t get to walk in here, cry over
