Unraveling Hearts: Tears, Truths, and Choices
Carlos wipes away his tears as he looks at the paternity test. His hands smooth the paper before he places it back on the table, taking a deep breath. His brown eyes lock onto mine, and then he says:
“I don't want to know.”
“Carlos, please,” I whisper.
“Juan will always be my son, and no piece of paper will say otherwise,” Carlos says, pressing his index finger against the paper repeatedly. He hands me back the envelope, wiping his face. “He has been my son for four years, and he always will be. Juan Carlos is my son, he is a Salazar, and he always will be.”
“Whatever you say,” I agree, putting the envelope away once again.
“Does he know?” Carlos asks, looking at me seriously. His gaze is a sea of disappointment that I can't bear to meet.
“No,” I reply, wiping my face. “He has no idea.”
“If I were in his shoes, I'd want to know if I have a child out there,” Carlos claims.
“Carlos, please...”
“He has the right to know, Dália,” Carlos argues. “Tell him.”
“Alright, I'll do that,” I affirm, nodding.
“However, make it clear that even if he turns out to be the father... Juan Carlos is my son, and he will continue to be. He will have to accept that.”
“Okay...”
“Is there something else, Dália?” Carlos asks, serious. His gaze is a sea of disappointment that I can't bear to meet.
“I'm so sorry, Carlos,” I say, crying again. “I'm sorry for all the harm I've caused you, for all the pain... Today, I see that I didn't know how to cherish the love you felt for me. I destroyed everything and lost the love you had for me. Forgive me. I love you, and I know I'm not worthy of your forgiveness, but please, forgive me,” I finish, looking down.
“I love you so much, Dália. I'm missing you so much... our family. God, what wouldn't I give to wake up one more day with you by my side? To watch you smile as you wake up, stretching until you turn towards me and hug me... To see you playing with the kids in the middle of the living room, toys scattered everywhere. You're cradling Marisol, smelling the top of Juan's head before giving him a kiss. Or you're sitting on the patio, gazing at the stars while savoring a glass of wine... Making love to you. What we built together was so beautiful that I can't imagine what lies ahead. Dália, I love you so much... I loved everything about you from the moment I saw you. I loved getting to know you... And even at this moment when you managed to break my heart with a few words... still, I love you,” Carlos declares, crying. “But I've learned that loving also means being prepared to let go.” He stands up and walks toward me, gently lifting my chin with his hand and continuing, “And I need to let you go... Sign the divorce, Dália. Sign the divorce and go after what you truly love. Be happy so I can be too.”
My husband approaches me, touching his lips to my forehead and letting his scent fill my nostrils. I've missed his smell so much... I take a deep breath, trying to hold onto his fragrance a little longer, but as he pulls away, he takes it with him.
***
X's house was so brightly lit that you could see it from blocks away, and like a firefly, I follow the lights until I reach and find the parking lot empty. I get out of my car and walk toward the entrance, where I'm greeted by one of his new house staff:
“Mrs. Salazar,” says the beautiful staff member who is the housekeeper.
“Where is he?” I ask directly.
“On the terrace.”
“Thank you,” I reply.
I quickly walk toward the marble stairs that lead to the third floor, where there's a magnificent terrace overlooking Barcelona and the sea. X was pouring whiskey at the bar, alone. In fact, I didn't see anyone except his employees and himself. What could have happened? I watch him undo the button of his tuxedo as he savors the newly served drink.
I take a deep breath and decide to approach him, only catching his attention when I'm a few steps away.
“So, how was dinner with your ex?” X asks without beating around the bush.
“As good as your opening party,” I reply, looking around. “What happened here?”
“I canceled the party,” X reveals before taking another sip. He points the glass in my direction and continues, “It didn't make any sense to throw a party without the guest of honor.”
“People probably didn't like your decision very much,” I say.
“I don't care,” X says. “Right now, the only presence I'm interested in is yours. I'm really glad you're here...”
“X,” I say, taking a deep breath. “I didn't come here to celebrate.”
“I figured as much,” X admits. “You've come for a serious and definitive talk about us, just like you did with your husband, am I right?”
“In a way,” I say, opening my purse and taking out the envelope again. I extend the envelope toward him. “Actually, I'm here to make everything between us perfectly clear.”
“Great,” X says, holding the envelope. He looks at it and then raises an eyebrow in confusion. “What's this?”
“A paternity test,” I say without hesitation. “For my son Juan. He might be the result of our night of passion in Africa.”
“Impossible,” X says, handing me back the envelope.
“It's possible. Do the math,” I retort, not holding back the envelope.
“Impossible,” X repeats, tossing the envelope onto the coffee table.
“X, please... Don't make things more complicated.”
“I'm not complicating anything, Dália. You're not understanding,” X says, serious. “It's impossible for Juan to be my child.”
“What? So only Pandora can be the mother of your children?” I ask, irritated.
“Dália, Juan can't be my child because I'm sterile.”
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