Chapter 6: Six

The morning of the test arrived quicker than I anticipated. The air felt heavy with unspoken tension as I pulled up to the clinic. A sleek, modern building with glass-paneled windows reflecting the cloudy sky, it seemed like an odd place for such a monumental moment. I parked and sat for a moment, gripping the steering wheel tightly, forcing myself to breathe evenly. Today would determine the course of the rest of my life.

When I stepped out of the car, I caught sight of Isabela standing near the entrance. She was holding Miguel’s hand, her expression guarded. Miguel was looking around curiously, oblivious to the storm brewing around him.

She looked up and saw me, her jaw tightening slightly. I took a deep breath and approached them, forcing myself to remain composed.

“You’re here,” I said, trying to soften my tone.

“I said I would be,” she replied curtly, her grip on Miguel’s hand tightening. “Let’s get this over with.”

Miguel looked up at me with wide, curious eyes. “Are you coming to the doctor too?” he asked.

“Something like that,” I said with a small smile. “Are you feeling brave today, Miguel?”

He grinned. “I’m always brave!”

Isabela’s lips twitched slightly, as if she wanted to smile but wouldn’t let herself.

“Let’s go,” she said, her voice brisk.

The waiting room was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of magazines and the faint hum of the air conditioning. Miguel was happily occupied with a coloring book the receptionist had given him. I watched him closely, studying his mannerisms, his expressions. There were so many little things—the way he furrowed his brow when concentrating, the way his foot tapped in rhythm—that felt eerily familiar.

Isabela sat stiffly beside him, her eyes darting toward me occasionally, but she remained silent. I could sense her unease, her resistance to letting me see these moments, these pieces of her life she had kept hidden for so long.

“Mr. Castellano, Ms. Duarte?” A nurse called our names, her tone professional but warm.

I stood immediately, as did Isabela, helping Miguel gather his coloring supplies. The three of us followed the nurse down a hallway lined with doors, each one marked with numbers. She led us into a small room where a technician was waiting.

“This will be quick,” the technician said, her smile reassuring. “Just a simple cheek swab for both of you.” She turned to Miguel, kneeling slightly to meet his eye level. “Ready, champ?”

Miguel nodded enthusiastically. “It doesn’t hurt, right?”

“Not one bit,” she said, holding up the swab. “Open wide.”

He obeyed without hesitation, and within seconds, the sample was collected.

“You’re up next, Mr. Castellano,” the technician said, turning to me.

I stepped forward, keeping my expression neutral. The swab was quick, painless, but it felt monumental—as if this small act was opening a door that couldn’t be closed.

“All done,” the technician said cheerfully. “You’ll hear back in a few days. If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to call.”

“Thank you,” I said, glancing briefly at Isabela, who gave a tight nod.

The ride back to Isabela’s apartment was tense. Miguel chattered happily in the back seat, completely unaware of the weight in the air. I glanced at him in the rearview mirror, my heart twisting at the thought of what the results might mean.

When we arrived, Isabela unbuckled Miguel and led him inside without saying much. I followed, unsure if I should leave or stay. She seemed to sense my hesitation, pausing in the doorway.

“You’ve done what you came here to do, Gabriel,” she said, her tone cool but not hostile. “Now we wait.”

“That’s all?” I asked, stepping closer. “No conversation, no… plan?”

Her eyes flashed with frustration. “A plan for what? I don’t even know what the results will say.”

“You and I both know what they’ll say,” I replied, my voice firm but not unkind. “And if I’m right, then we need to figure out how this works. For him.”

She glanced toward the living room, where Miguel had already started playing with his toys. Her expression softened slightly, but when she turned back to me, the walls were back up.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” she said.

“Fine,” I said, backing off for now. “But don’t shut me out, Isabela. Not this time.”

She didn’t reply, just closed the door behind me as I left.

The next few days were excruciating. Each passing hour felt like an eternity. I buried myself in work, trying to distract myself, but it was no use. Every time my phone buzzed, my heart would leap, only to sink again when it wasn’t Valenti.

When the call finally came, it was late in the evening. I was in my office, staring out at the city lights, a glass of whiskey untouched on the desk. The moment Valenti said my name, I knew this was it.

“We have the results,” he said, his tone neutral but tinged with gravity.

“And?” I asked, gripping the edge of the desk.

“He’s yours, Gabriel,” Valenti said.

The words hit me like a tidal wave. Relief, joy, guilt, and fear all collided at once, leaving me momentarily speechless.

“Thank you,” I said finally, my voice hoarse.

“Now comes the hard part,” Valenti said gently. “Figuring out what to do next.”

The next morning, I was at Isabela’s doorstep before she even had a chance to call me. When she opened the door, her expression was unreadable, but I could see the tension in her shoulders.

“He’s mine,” I said simply.

Her breath hitched slightly, but she nodded, as if she had already prepared herself for this moment. “I figured as much.”

“Then you know what comes next,” I said, stepping inside. “We need to talk about Miguel’s future. Together.”

She hesitated, then closed the door, her shoulders sagging slightly. “Fine. Let’s talk.”