I paced back and forth in front of the lab door, my footsteps uneven against the floor as thought after thought crashed into each other in my head.

What if she really was mine?

Then what?

Do I just... take care of her? Raise her? Was I even capable of something like that? I could barely process the possibility itself, let alone what came after.

"This was too unexpected..." I murmured, dragging a hand through my hair as I turned again, unable to stay still for more than a few seconds.

Carla stood against the wall nearby, arms loosely crossed as she watched me quietly. She wasn't cold about it—just patient, steady, like she was waiting for me to wear myself out before I spiraled any further.

"Just sit down, Miguel. You're making me anxious," she said at last, her tone calm but edged with amusement in an attempt to ease the tension.

I stopped pacing.

For a moment, I just stood there, breathing in slowly through my nose before letting it back out again, trying to force my thoughts to settle into something manageable.

Then I finally nodded and lowered myself into one of the chairs outside the lab.

The moment I sat down, the exhaustion hit harder than I expected. My leg bounced restlessly despite myself as I stared at the floor, my mind still running in circles no matter how badly I wanted it to stop.

A woman in a white coat finally stepped out of the lab, a few sheets of paper held neatly in her hands. The moment the door opened, I stood almost immediately.

The woman glanced down at the results briefly before looking directly at me.

"Ella es tuya, Miguel. Cien por ciento." (She's yours. One hundred percent.)

For a second, I couldn't react.

Then the breath I'd been unconsciously holding escaped me all at once, deep and uneven. My chest felt strangely hollow, like everything inside me had shifted to make room for this new reality.

Mine.

The word echoed louder than anything else.

I looked away for a moment, rubbing at my face as I tried to process it. A thousand thoughts rushed through my head at once—fear, confusion, disbelief—but underneath all of it was something quieter. Something I couldn't ignore.

That little girl was mine.

I felt Carla's hand settle gently on my shoulder, grounding me before I could disappear into my own thoughts completely.

"It's okay, Miguel..." she said softly. "We can get through this. I know we can."

I swallowed hard, staring down at the floor for a moment before finally nodding faintly.

"...Yeah," I murmured, though my voice came out quieter than intended. "Yeah... I know."

Even if I was terrified, I wasn't alone anymore.

"Come on... let's get home... Lela and Isabelle are waiting for us," Carla said gently, giving my shoulder one last reassuring squeeze before stepping beside me.

I nodded slowly and pushed myself to walk, my body still tense from everything that had happened. 

It felt like the weight of the past few hours had settled into my muscles all at once, leaving me drained in a way sleep probably wouldn't fix.

Neither of us spoke much as we walked out of the diagnostics center.

The automatic doors slid open, letting the cool air outside wash over us. The sky had already started to dim, the fading light stretching long shadows across the pavement as we made our way toward the car.

I kept replaying the words in my head.

She's yours.

Every time I thought about it, my chest tightened again—not painfully, just overwhelmingly. Isabelle. My daughter.

It still didn't feel fully right.

Carla stayed close beside me the entire walk, her hand occasionally brushing against my arm, like she was quietly reminding me that I didn't have to carry the shock alone.

By the time we reached the car, I let out another slow breath and glanced off toward the horizon for a second before climbing in.

Home suddenly meant something completely different now.

-

(Carla pov)

Miguel slept peacefully in my arms, his breathing slow and even against my chest. One of his hands rested over my stomach instinctively, like even in sleep he couldn't stop himself from holding onto us.

I looked down at him quietly for a moment, my chest tightening with affection.

This was probably the best time to do it.

Carefully, I slipped out from beneath him, moving slowly so I wouldn't wake him. He shifted slightly at the loss of warmth but stayed asleep, his face soft and completely unaware.

I stood up from the bed and quietly made my way out of the room, easing the door shut behind me.

The mansion was almost completely silent at this hour. Only the faint glow of dim hallway lights guided my way forward. The polished floor felt strangely soft beneath my feet as I walked, my exhaustion making everything feel distant and dreamlike.

Eventually, I reached the room we'd set up for Isabelle earlier that evening.

The same room Lela stayed in.

I opened the door slowly.

The room was dim, lit only by a small lamp near the corner. Lela sat awake beside the crib, still dressed down but alert in the way she always seemed to be. 

The sight of her next to Isabelle's crib felt oddly natural now, despite how surreal everything had been just hours ago.

The baby slept peacefully inside, wrapped neatly in a blanket, tiny chest rising and falling in soft rhythms.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

I just stood there in the doorway, watching Isabelle sleep, the reality of everything settling over me again—but softer this time. Less shocking. More real.

I approached slowly, my attention fixed entirely on the crib. The closer I got, the quieter everything else seemed to become, until all I could focus on was the small figure sleeping peacefully beneath the blanket.

Once I stood right in front of her, I stopped moving altogether.

I just stared.

Even now, it was impossible not to see him in her. The shape of her eyes, the softness in her expression, even the faint little movements she made in her sleep—it all carried traces of Miguel so clearly it almost hurt to look at.

A strange feeling settled in my chest. Not hatred. Not resentment.

Just distance.

"I don't feel like I can love her..." I whispered honestly, the words barely louder than the sound of Isabelle breathing.

Lela looked up at me immediately, her attention shifting from the baby to my face. She didn't interrupt. Didn't judge. She just listened.

I exhaled slowly, my gaze never leaving the crib.

"But I know someone who can..."

That finally made her expression change slightly, confusion flickering across her face.

I turned toward her then.

"You, Lela."

For the first time in a long while, Lela looked genuinely caught off guard. Her posture stiffened almost imperceptibly, eyes widening just enough to notice before she quickly tried to compose herself again.

"...Boss?" she said quietly, unsure if she'd heard me correctly.

I looked back toward Isabelle.

"The way you've been holding her. Watching her," I murmured. "You already care about her more than I do."

"I-I..." Lela stuttered, the word catching in her throat in a way I wasn't used to hearing from her. Her usual steadiness faltered for just a moment as she looked down at Isabelle again.

The baby slept on, completely unaware of the weight of the conversation happening above her crib.

Lela's expression softened. Whatever hesitation she had at first slowly gave way to something quieter—more certain. She adjusted her posture slightly, as if grounding herself.

"I'd be happy to..." she said at last, more steady now, her voice lower but sincere, "...care for her as my daughter."

The words hung in the room for a moment.

I studied her face, searching for doubt, for hesitation—but there wasn't much left. Just resolve. Not loud or emotional, but firm in the way she made decisions when it mattered.

Isabelle shifted slightly in her sleep, letting out a small, soft breath before settling again.

The room stayed quiet after that.

Different kind of quiet now. Not tense.

Just... decided.

——