PART 2

At the hospital, Sofía didn’t cry at first. She stared at the bright ceiling lights, hands pressed against her stomach, trying to breathe through the pain.

Andrés sat beside her, restless—but not because he feared for her.

“My dad didn’t realize how hard he kicked,” he said. “Let’s not ruin everything over one bad moment.”

She slowly turned her head.

“One bad moment? Your father kicked me while your mother held me down.”

He looked away, as always.

A young doctor entered with a file, her expression careful but heavy with truth.

“Mrs. Sofía… the impact caused serious complications. I’m very sorry. We couldn’t save the pregnancy.”

The room went silent.

Even Andrés’s shocked voice—“Pregnancy?”—felt distant.

Sofía had been eleven weeks pregnant.

She had planned to tell him that night, with a small box and baby socks. She had wanted to surprise him. To believe something good could still grow between them.

Instead, the surprise became loss.

“Our baby died because your father kicked me,” she said quietly.

Andrés covered his face.

“I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t need to know to protect me.”

That night, back at the apartment, Sofía didn’t enter the bedroom. She sat in the kitchen and laid everything out—car documents, receipts, insurance, and messages from Iván asking for weeks to “borrow” her SUV.

Everything was hers.

But for the first time, she realized the car wasn’t the real issue.

The problem was that his family couldn’t stand seeing her independent.

At 2:17 a.m., a message from Carmen appeared:

“Because of your behavior, Ramiro couldn’t sleep. You should apologize.”

Another from Iván:

“All that drama over a car. You’ve always been difficult.”

No mention of the baby.

No mention of the hospital.

To them, she was still the problem.

The next morning, Sofía went to the prosecutor’s office with her sister Valeria. She submitted photos, medical reports, messages—everything.

The lawyer wasn’t surprised.