Chapter 19
Gabriela’s POV
All three tests were positive. I’d taken them at six in the morning, hands shaking, my heart lodged in my throat.
Positive.
Positive.
Positive.
Three pink lines screaming the truth I’d been refusing to face.
I was pregnant. With Alejandro Ferrer’s baby. And I had no fucking idea what to do.
I spent three days in complete shock. I pretended to be sick so I wouldn’t have to leave my room. Mom brought me tea and soup I barely touched. Gabriel knocked on my door, offering company I refused. Alejandra sent messages I ignored.
Because I couldn’t face them. I couldn’t look them in the eye knowing what was growing inside me.
On the fourth day, I made a decision.
I couldn’t have this baby.
I wasn’t ready. It wasn’t the right time. It wasn’t the right situation. And Alejandro definitely wasn’t— we weren’t—
No.
Just no.
I Googled clinics. Found a discreet one. I called from a public phone on the corner near my house because I didn’t want any record on my cell phone.
I scheduled the appointment for Friday at two in the afternoon.
“Initial consultation,” they told me. “To discuss options.”
Options. As if there were more than one.
On Friday, I arrived at the private hospital where the clinic operated.
A discreet red-brick building. No obvious signs. Designed so women could come and go without being seen.
I registered under a fake name. Paid in cash. They handed me a form, which I filled out with trembling handwriting.
—Please take a seat —the receptionist said with a professional smile that didn’t reach her eyes—. We’ll call you in a few minutes.
I sat in the waiting room. There were four other women. All avoiding eye contact. All wearing that same expression of desperate resignation.
Was this really what I wanted?
I looked at the clock. 2:10 p.m.
Time was moving too slowly and too fast at the same time.
—Gabriela Morales? —a nurse called from the doorway.
I stood up, my legs like jelly.
I walked down the hallway.
And then I felt it.
Absolute panic slammed into me like lightning.
I can’t do this.
I stopped in the middle of the hallway. The nurse turned around, confused.
—Miss? Are you okay?
—I… I need… I need a minute.
—Of course. The restroom is at the end of the hall on the right.
I ran to the bathroom, pushing the door so hard it slammed against the wall.
I locked myself in a stall and collapsed onto the toilet lid.
And I broke.
Violent sobs that shook my entire body. Tears I couldn’t stop. Hyperventilation that stole the air from my lungs.
What am I doing?
What the hell am I doing?
I couldn’t breathe. Panic was choking me. The stall walls felt like they were closing in.
—Hello? —a female voice called from outside—. Are you okay in there?
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.
—I’m going to come in, okay? I don’t want to scare you, but you sound like you need help.
The stall door opened from the outside. Apparently, I hadn’t locked it properly.
A young woman crouched in front of me. Blue nurse’s uniform. Dark brown hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. Light brown, almost honey-colored eyes filled with genuine concern.
—Breathe —she said gently—. Breathe with me. Inhale… two, three, four. Exhale… two, three, four.
She guided me through the breathing until the panic slowly began to ease.
—That’s it. Very good. Keep breathing.
When I could finally speak, the words spilled out in a rush.
—I can’t do it. I thought I could, but I can’t. But I also can’t keep the baby. I’m not ready. My family will hate me. The father doesn’t even— he doesn’t— we don’t—
—Shh, it’s okay —she interrupted softly, sitting down on the bathroom floor with me—. One thing at a time. What’s your name?
—Gabriela.
—Hi, Gabriela. I’m Lucía. And I’m not here to judge you. Whatever you decide to do, it’s your decision. No one else can make it for you.
—But I don’t know what to decide —I cried—. I don’t know what to do.
Lucía took my hands.
—Did you come here completely sure you wanted to go through with it? Or did you come with doubts?
—With doubts. A lot of doubts. But I thought that once I was here, it would be easier. That I’d just do it and be done.
—The fact that you’re having a panic attack in a bathroom tells me it’s not that simple.
—It’s not —I admitted—. None of this is simple.
—It’s okay that it’s not simple —Lucía said—. This is probably the hardest decision you’ve ever had to make. And you don’t have to make it today. Right now. In this bathroom.
—But I already made the appointment…
—And you can cancel it. Or postpone it. Give yourself time to think. To process. To really decide what you want.
—And what if I don’t know what I want?
—Then find out. But don’t make a decision this big while you’re panicking. Or because you feel like you have no other choice. There are always options, Gabriela.
I wiped my tears with the back of my hand.
—What would you do? If you were in my place?
Lucía smiled sadly.
—I can’t answer that. Because I’m not in your place. I don’t know your situation. Your family. Your fears. Your life. This decision has to be yours. Completely yours.
—But I’m so scared.
—I know. And it’s okay to be scared. Just don’t let fear decide for you.
We sat on the bathroom floor for what felt like an eternity.
—What do I do now? —I finally asked.
—Now you go home. You take a few days. You think. You feel. And when you’re ready—really ready—you make the decision. Whatever it is.
—And if my family…?
—Your family loves you. I can see it in your eyes. There’s love there. They might get angry. They might be disappointed. But they love you. And in the end, that’s what matters.
—You don’t know my family.
—No. But I know love. And I know that real love survives even the hardest things.
She helped me stand up. I splashed cold water on my face.
—Thank you —I said, meeting her eyes in the mirror—. I don’t know who you are or why you were here, but… thank you.
—I’m a pediatric nurse —she explained—. I was covering for a friend in gynecology today. I guess the universe wanted me to be here.
—I guess so.
She hugged me. Unexpected, but comforting.
—You’re going to be okay, Gabriela. No matter what you decide, you’re going to be okay.
I wanted to believe her.
I left the hospital without ever going into the consultation.
The receptionist looked at me with understanding when I told her I needed to cancel.
—Call when you’re ready —she said simply.
I took an Uber back to the mansion.
The entire ride, my hand rested on my stomach. Still flat. Still showing no signs. But there it was. A life. Tiny. Completely dependent on me.
What am I going to do with you? I thought.
And I had no answer.
Because Lucía was right. I couldn’t make this decision out of panic. I needed time. Space. Clarity. I needed to figure out what I really wanted. Not what I should want. Not what others expected of me. But what I wanted.
Did I want to be a mother at twenty-five?
Did I want to have the baby of a man who probably hated me?
Did I want to face my family’s judgment, society’s judgment, everyone’s judgment?
Or did I want…?
I didn’t know.
I truly didn’t know.
The Uber dropped me off at the entrance of the Moretti mansion. I stood there, staring at the wrought-iron gates, at the house where I’d grown up. Where Gabriel and I had played as kids. Where Mom had read us bedtime stories. Where Dad had taught us to be strong. Where I had been happy.
Could I still be happy here with a baby? Or would I have to leave? Start over somewhere no one knew me?
The tears came back, but this time I let them fall.
My life was chaos. Complete, absolute chaos.
A month ago, I was Gabriela Moretti. The twin. The party girl. The free one. The one whose biggest responsibility was deciding which bar to go to on Friday night.
And now I was… what?
A victim? A potential mother? A woman who had rejected her child’s father?
Who was I now?
I heard footsteps behind me.
I turned around.
Alejandra stood in the doorway, looking at me with concern.
—Gaby… —she started—. Where have you been? We’ve been looking for you all afternoon.
—I needed air —I lied.
—You’ve been “needing air” a lot lately.
—Ale, please. Not now.
She stepped closer and hugged me. My little sister. My best friend.
—I don’t know what’s going on with you —she whispered against my shoulder—. But whatever it is, you can tell me. You can always tell me.
I wanted to. God, how I wanted to.
But the words wouldn’t come.
—I know —I said softly—. I know, Ale.
We went into the mansion together.
Mom was in the living room. Gabriel in his study. Dad probably in his office.
My family. The people who loved me, but who would soon have to face a truth that would change everything.
I went up to my room and collapsed on the bed.
My phone buzzed. A message from an unknown number.
“Hi Gabriela. It’s Lucía, from the hospital. I found your number on the form you filled out. I just wanted to make sure you got home okay. And to remind you: you’re not alone. If you need to talk, text me. Seriously.”
I smiled through my tears.
A stranger who had become a friend on a bathroom floor.
Maybe the universe really was trying to tell me something.
“I got home safely. Thank you for everything. Truly,” I replied.
I stared at the ceiling, one hand on my stomach, the other holding my phone.
My life was chaos.
But maybe—just maybe—I would find a way to navigate that chaos.
One day at a time.
One decision at a time.
Starting with the most important one:
What did I really want?
And until I had that answer, everything else would have to wait.