Page 50 of Please, Forgive Me

Diego leaned forward slightly, his eyes still locked on me. There was something almost possessive in the way he looked at me, like not knowing what was happening made him lose control—and he hated that.

Deep down, I knew it didn’t matter what I said. Diego would keep his eyes on me until he had answers.

He wouldn’t rest until he was sure I was fine… or until he understood exactly what was going on.

And I was trapped in that spiral of uncertainty, torn between trusting my body—and fearing the cold precision of his.

At home, I stared at the pregnancy test box sitting on the table.

It was just a small plastic stick—something so simple, yet powerful enough to change my entire life. My fingers trembled as I looked at it, like that tiny piece of plastic might suddenly explode into a thousand pieces.

I tried to push the fear away, to rationalize what was happening. It could be an illness, food poisoning… something less complicated than pregnancy. But deep down, I knew it was time to face the truth.

I took a deep breath and finally opened the box. The sound of the plastic tearing seemed to echo through the silence of my apartment.

Everything inside me felt frozen.

I’d faced so many challenges in my life, made so many hard choices—but nothing had ever felt this heavy.

I walked to the bathroom, my heartbeat quickening with every step.

I turned on the light and looked at myself in the mirror. Same Maria Gabriela as always—but with a whole world of uncertainty staring back. I tried to smile, but it was empty. The fear was creeping in, consuming me from the inside out.

I sat down and followed the instructions, going through the motions on autopilot. My hands were still trembling, and I took another deep breath, trying to steady myself. When it was done, I placed the test on the sink and stepped back.

Now came the worst part. The waiting.

I had to physically stop myself from looking at it right away. My mind was racing.

What if I was pregnant? What if everything changed from this moment on?

I wasn’t ready for that.

To try to ease the tension, I did what I always did in stressful situations—made a joke out of it.

“Maybe it’s some rare disease,” I muttered to myself, forcing a laugh that died before it even started. “Something weird that just makes you throw up in the morning and freak out for no reason.”

It didn’t work.

The truth was, I already knew what was happening.

I was just delaying the inevitable.

Finally, after what felt like hours—but was probably only a few minutes—I moved closer to the sink. A rush of adrenaline went through me, and I closed my eyes for a second before gathering the courage to look.

When I opened them, there it was.

Two lines. Clear. Undeniable.

My heart stopped. For a second, the whole world seemed to slow down.

“This can’t be…” I whispered, barely hearing my own voice.

Pregnant.

I was pregnant.

My mind went blank. I just stood there, staring at those two lines, as if somehow the result would change if I looked long enough.