He remained silent, a silence I couldn’t understand.
I thought maybe he was in sh0ck, maybe overwhelmed… until I noticed the paper in his hand: a registration form for a DNA test. I froze.
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“Javier… what is this?” I asked, my voice shaking.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he silently pulled out a small glass vial containing isopropyl alcohol, cotton balls, sterile gauze, and a tiny needle.
And I understood. He wanted to take our baby’s blood for a paternity test.
“Are you crazy? She’s only three days old! She’s so tiny. How can you even think—”
“Then explain this to me,” he interrupted, his voice hardening.
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