When Plans Collide

"You said you weren't pregnant," Carlos speaks, breaking the silence that settled between us.
"And you said you wouldn't go back to Portugal," I say, turning and walking in the opposite direction.
"I know what I said," Carlos affirms, following me to the living room. "But things are more complicated than they seem... Anyway, are you sure you're pregnant? 100% certain?"

"Yes, I am, just as I am certain that you assured me Portugal was in the past. Besides, you made me sign a post-nuptial agreement."

I turn towards my husband and toss the images of my examination onto his chest. It wasn't exactly how I imagined I would reveal our second pregnancy, but I also didn't expect my husband to reveal that he was going back to Portugal. Life, definitely, never goes as planned. I sit on the couch and run my hand through my hair, frustrated. Carlos comes closer, sitting beside me. He loosens his tie and looks at me, saying:

"Dália, please, let's talk rationally. We are no longer the same people, we've done therapy, and we know how to handle this kind of situation. I can't say no to my boss, because now we have other responsibilities... We just bought a loft... Please, look at me."
"Go ahead," I say, looking at my husband.
"Dália, we'll figure this out, you'll see," Carlos assures, holding my hand. "Besides, I'll talk to Rubens about the pregnancy and let him know that I'll only go to Portugal as a last resort, as I'll find a way to resolve everything here. This time, I'll do things differently... Trust me."
"Alright," I say, caressing his hand. I'm not willing to fight with Carlos anymore.
"Great, not to mention that, as you reminded me, we have a post-nuptial agreement. I won't jeopardize our marriage... especially not now," my husband says, placing his hand on my belly. "Know that I am happy... scared, worried, but happy."
"I am too," I affirm, placing my hand over Carlos's. "I'm worried about how this pregnancy will be... I'm afraid of what's to come."
"I am too, but I'm not afraid, because now we know how to handle everything. This time will be different," my husband assures me. "Now tell me: Is it a boy or a girl?"
"Well, we can't tell yet, as I'm entering the eighth week," I explain with a slight smile. "However, Juan keeps saying 'hermana,' and since he guessed I was pregnant, I bet it's a girl."
"A beautiful girl who will undoubtedly inherit her mother's beauty," Carlos says, caressing my belly. "I love you, Dália, and know that I'll do everything to make things different this time. Everything."
"I love you too," I reply, embracing my husband. "But we still have to tell my parents..."
"Right..." my husband says. He brings his head close to my belly and starts speaking. "Look, I won't object if you act like your brother when he met his grandpa."

***
Two days later, we invited my family to come to our house for dinner and share the news. My husband prepared the menu while I set the table. As soon as the doorbell rang, Juan got up from the living room floor and walked to the door. I went to him, holding his hand, and helped him open the door to receive my family. My mother and sister hugged me and made no comments, unlike my father, who, as soon as he ran his hand through my son's hair, turned to me and said:

"Two events in less than a week... You're spending a lot."
"No, father-in-law, that's not why we invited you," Carlos says with his enviable patience. He holds my hand and continues, "Dália and I have an announcement to make."
"We're pregnant!" I announce with a huge smile, causing my mother and sister to squeal with joy.
"My daughter, congratulations!" my mother says, getting up and hugging me. She puts her hand on Carlos's shoulder and says, "Congratulations to both of you."
"Sis, I'm so happy!" Valéria says, holding my hand.
"So, father-in-law, what do you say?" Carlos asks, looking at my father, who remained standing in his place, savoring his roasted lamb.
"What do I say?" my father questions, wiping his lips with his napkin. "I think this time, at least, we're sure it's yours."
"Dear!" my mother scolds, looking at my father incredulously at his words.
"What? They know I'm joking," my father says, looking at me. "They would only be offended if what I said were true. We know he's also Juan's father, right?"
"Oh, but what an unpleasant topic," my mother says, embarrassed.
"Well, didn't you also have doubts about whether Juan could be Carlos's son, or am I mistaken?" my father questions, looking at my mother. "Remember when they came back from Africa... This pregnancy now has dispelled any doubts about Juan."
"Well, I never had the slightest doubt that Juan is my son," Carlos argues, holding my hand. "Anyway, father-in-law, the answer is there: not only can we have one child, but even two. In fact, we're thinking about forming a soccer team."
"I'm glad to hear that," my father says, raising his glass. "A toast to your soccer team."

We all toast and finish dinner in silence. My family practically flees my apartment, so I decided to focus on loading the dishes into the dishwasher while my husband discards the empty wine bottles. He comes closer to me and hugs me from behind, kissing my neck. After that, he steps back and says:

"Can you believe your father? How could he say those things?"
"My father has always been like that," I comment, closing the dishwasher. My face isn't the best, and I know it's not escaping Carlos's eyes.
"Dália," my husband calls. He holds my hands and says, "I want you to know that I never doubted that Juan is my son. I know you would never do something like that, okay? So don't worry, I'll always take your father's words as mere jokes."
I look at my husband for a moment, feeling the urge to tell him what I've been keeping all this time. I open my lips, but the words stick in my throat and don't come out. He kisses me on the forehead, says something about going to bed, and Carlos is already turning away when I finally muster the courage to call out:
"Carlos."
"Yes?" my husband says, turning back.
"I love you."
"I love you too," my husband says before leaving the kitchen.