She simply helped me onto the examination table.
The gel felt cold.
Moments later, the monitor flickered to life.
A tiny shape appeared.
Then movement.
Then a heartbeat.
Strong.
Fast.
Tears filled my eyes.
“Hi, little one,” I whispered.
Dr. Beltrán smiled.
Then she moved the probe again.
Her expression changed.
She zoomed in.
Checked measurements.
Reviewed my chart.
Then looked back at the screen.
“Mrs. Cordero — when exactly did your husband have his procedure?”
A chill ran through me.
“About two months ago.”
The doctor became very quiet.
The heartbeat continued echoing through the room.
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
“Is my baby healthy?”
“Your babies are doing wonderfully,” she said.
Babies.
Before I could ask, the examination room door opened.
Nestor walked in.
Xiomara followed close behind.
“Perfect,” Nestor said.
“Now we can finally find out how far along this other man’s baby really is.”
Dr. Beltrán turned toward him slowly.
Then back to the screen.
“Mr. Delgado,” she said calmly, “before you accuse your wife again, I’d like you to read one thing on this monitor.”
“What?”
“The date.”
PART 2
Here is what Dr. Beltrán said, and I want to record that she said all of it to me, because I am her patient and Nestor was not.
She said it in front of him because I told her to, out loud, twice, and she wrote in my chart that I had.
“Mrs. Cordero, your pregnancy is further along than the eight weeks your intake form estimated.
The measurements are consistent with sixteen weeks and four days.”
Sixteen weeks.
