Laura never saw the first betrayal, but the second one tore through her like shrapnel. The word “whore” still echoed in her skull, fused with the image of Diego’s mother looking away, of his sister folding her arms, of his father nodding like a judge delivering sentence. The shame clung to her skin, but beneath it something hotter, sharper, refused to die. She knew the nights, the dates, the touch; she knew this child was his, no matter how many times he spat “impossible” like a curse. While neighbors turned doorways into witness stands and friends disappeared into the safety of neutrality, Laura carried her swelling belly like contraband and her certainty like a secret weapon. The day would come when facts would slice through the lies, when the story he’d built on pride and venom would collapse under the weight of a single, undeniable num… Continues…
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