A patient deserving respect and protection.
For the first time in weeks, I felt someone was defending me.
Diego stood.
“Laura, we need to talk.”
I slowly sat upright.
The doctor helped me remove the gel and handed me a towel.
My hands trembled, but I was no longer afraid of him.
“No,” I said.
Diego frowned.
“What do you mean, no?”
“We do not need to talk here. Not now. Not in front of her.”
I turned toward Paola.
Her cheeks flushed.
“It is not my fault that you—”
“You knew I was married,” I said. “You knew I was pregnant, and you still came to this office to watch me be humiliated. Do not pretend to be a visitor.”
She opened her mouth.
No acceptable response came out.
Diego moved toward me.
“Laura, I did not know. The vasectomy—”
“The vasectomy did not force you to look at me the way you did. It did not force you to leave with her that same night. It did not force you to post photos saying life had taken a lie from you. It did not force you to send papers to take my house and charge me for years of marriage as if I had been a bad investment.”
