My wedding dress. The lace imported from Spain. The dress I wore when I promised to love him until death parted us. Now, it was a costume for his mistress, worn in my home, while I lay rotting in a hospital bed.
“And the baby?” Sofia asked.
“The grandma already changed the registration,” Elena whispered, her voice dropping lower. “Lucía wanted ‘Esperanza.’ Hope. The grandmother filed the papers yesterday. The baby is ‘Mía’ now.”
Mía. Mine. Possessive.
They weren’t just killing me. They were erasing me. They were overwriting my life with a new version where I never existed.
But then, Elena said something that stopped my heart.
“What about the other one?”
“Shh,” Sofia hissed. “We aren’t supposed to know about that. Dr. Martínez is keeping it off the main chart to protect the child.”
The other one?
My mind raced. The ultrasound had always shown one baby. One heartbeat. Had I missed something?
Day 25. Dr. Martínez stood by my bedside. He wasn’t talking to me, but he was talking near me. He was on the phone, his voice hushed and angry.
“I cannot do that, Teresa. It is illegal.”
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