“…I’m going to need to ask you all to step outside for a moment.”
The air in the room shifted instantly.
At first, no one moved.
Diego let out a small, awkward laugh, like a man trying to brush off a misunderstanding.
“Is something wrong?” he asked, tightening his grip on Allison’s hand.
The doctor didn’t answer immediately.
That was the first crack.
Because doctors—especially in places like this, where money bought comfort and reassurance—always answered right away when everything was fine.
But she didn’t.
She just looked at the screen again.
Then at Allison.
Then at Diego.
And something in her expression made the entire room go still.
“I need to speak with the patient privately,” she repeated, this time firmer.
His mother frowned.
“Doctor, we’re family,” she said, almost offended. “We’re here to celebrate—”
“This isn’t a request,” the doctor cut in quietly.
That was the second crack.
The kind you couldn’t ignore.
Sophia’s smile disappeared first.
Then the aunt holding flowers slowly lowered them.
Diego hesitated.
For a brief second, his eyes flickered—not with concern, but with something sharper.
Fear.
Not for Allison.
Not for the baby.
For himself.
“Alright,” he said finally, forcing a calm tone. “We’ll step out.”
He leaned down and kissed Allison’s forehead.
“It’s probably nothing,” he whispered.
But his voice didn’t sound convincing.
Not even to him.
They all filed out slowly.
The door closed.
And the silence in the hallway was thick.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
Five minutes passed.
Then ten.
No one spoke.
No one laughed anymore.
The celebration had evaporated, replaced by something cold and unfamiliar.
At minute twelve, the door opened.
The doctor stepped out.
But she wasn’t smiling.
And Allison…
Allison wasn’t behind her.
Diego stepped forward immediately.
“What’s going on?” he demanded.
The doctor looked directly at him.
And for a moment, she didn’t say anything.
As if she was deciding how much damage her next sentence would cause.
“Mr. Rivera,” she said carefully, “I need you to come with me.”
His mother stiffened.
“Why only him?”
The doctor didn’t respond.
That was the third crack.
Diego followed her back inside.
The door closed again.
This time, the silence wasn’t just uncomfortable.
It was suffocating.
Inside the room, Allison was sitting upright now.
But she didn’t look like the glowing, triumphant woman from twenty minutes ago.
Her face was pale.
Her eyes wide.
Her hands trembling slightly as they rested on her stomach.
Diego’s chest tightened.
“What’s wrong?” he asked quickly. “Is the baby okay?”
The doctor turned the monitor slightly toward him.
“Mr. Rivera,” she said, voice calm but firm, “before I answer that… I need to ask you a question.”
His stomach dropped.
“What kind of question?”
She didn’t blink.
“How long have you and Ms. Allison been together?”
The question caught him off guard.
“Why does that matter?” he snapped. “Just tell me what’s going on.”
“It matters,” she said quietly.
A pause.
Then—
“How long?”
Diego hesitated.
“…About eight months.”
The doctor nodded slowly.
Then she tapped the screen.
“According to this scan,” she said, “the pregnancy is approximately twenty-four weeks along.”
The room went completely still.
Diego blinked.
Once.
