The maternity ward bustled that morning in a major Mexico City hospital. Dr. Alejandro had just completed a cesarean when an urgent call pulled him to another delivery—one requiring immediate attention.
He rushed in, only to freeze as he saw the patient’s face.
Valeria.
His former love. The woman who vanished from his life seven years ago without a word—now in labor, terrified and breathless, gripping her phone as she recognized him.
“You’re… the head doctor?” she whispered.
He nodded, stunned but silent.
Complications struck. Valeria’s pressure dropped, the baby’s heartbeat slowed, and the room tensed. Alejandro held steady, leading the team through every critical second.
Then, the baby was born.
And Alejandro froze again.
The same dark eyes. The same dimples. A rare, teardrop-shaped birthmark—passed down in his family for generations—marked the newborn’s shoulder.
The truth hit him like a wave.
Cradling the child, Alejandro turned to Valeria. “Why… why didn’t you tell me?”
Tears spilled down her face. “I wanted to. But everything collapsed. My parents… your work… I thought you’d hate me. I thought you’d leave.”
Alejandro held the baby close, his voice steady. “No matter the past, I won’t abandon you. Or our son.”
Valeria looked up, eyes red but hopeful. Outside, their newborn’s first cry echoed—signaling not just a birth, but a second chance.
