“Elena, how long were you going to hide this?” she demanded. “My cousin saw your file. You’re pregnant with triplets!”
Elena closed her eyes.
“What are you going to do?” Mariana asked.
Elena stared at the empty room.
The empty fridge.
The rejection letters.
Her trembling hands.
“I made an appointment,” she whispered.
Mariana froze.
“Elena… you’re not serious.”
“I can’t support them,” Elena said, her voice breaking.
“They’re three babies!”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
“Because I have nothing.”
Her voice cracked as tears finally fell.
“I’m alone. Diego doesn’t want to see me. His mother said she’d call security if I ever came back.”
She let out a bitter laugh.
“Am I supposed to go beg him?”
Silence.
Then Mariana whispered:
“It’s dangerous… you’re already four months along.”
“I know,” Elena said quietly. “But I don’t have another choice.”
That night, she searched the risks.
Hemorrhage.
Infection.
Infertility.
Death.
Her hands turned cold.
She ran to the bathroom and vomited until nothing was left.
Then she sat on the cold floor, hugging herself.
Her mother’s voice echoed in her mind:
“No matter what happens, live with dignity.”
But what did dignity mean now?
Bringing three children into suffering?
Or preventing them from being born into it?
She didn’t know anymore.
Three days later, Elena walked into a small private clinic.
She signed the consent forms.
Each signature trembled.
A nurse handed her a hospital gown.
“Follow me.”
The corridor felt endless.
The lights blurred.
When she lay on the cold operating table, her hand instinctively moved to her belly.
She felt something.
A faint movement.
So small.
But enough.
Tears fell instantly.
“I’m sorry…” she whispered.
She didn’t know who she was apologizing to.
The babies.
Her mother.
Or the woman she used to be.
“Have you made your decision?” the doctor asked.
Elena closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
The doctor nodded—
But before he could continue, the door burst open.
“Stop.”
A man’s voice cut through the room.
Cold.
Commanding.
Everyone froze.
Elena opened her eyes.
