For a second, time folded.
You were back in the bedroom, feverish and bleeding, listening to him say your child would not go far.
He recognized you.
You saw it.
The smile stayed on his face, but his eyes changed.
Then he saw Mateo beside you.
The smile disappeared.
Mateo did not flinch.
He simply looked at Gerardo the way he looked at malfunctioning machines — with curiosity, distance, and no worship.
Gerardo excused himself from the group and walked toward you.
Your body remembered fear before your mind could stop it.
Mateo stepped half an inch closer to you.
Not in front of you.
Beside you.
That almost undid you.
Gerardo stopped a few feet away.
“Patricia.”
His voice was smooth.
Public voice.
Safe voice.
“Gerardo.”
His eyes moved to Mateo.
No warmth.
No shock, even.
Calculation.
“This must be…”
“Mateo,” your son said.
He did not say your son.
He did not say Dad.
He gave his name like a document.
Gerardo smiled lightly.
“You’ve grown.”
Mateo looked at him.
“That happens after fifteen years.”
The silence was short but sharp.
Ximena appeared behind Gerardo, sensing danger.
Her eyes flicked over you, then Mateo. You wondered if she remembered the post. The scarf. The caption. The fever she never saw but helped mock.
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
You smiled politely.
“Perfect.”
Gerardo’s jaw tightened slightly.
He turned to Mateo.
“I hear you’re presenting tonight.”
“Yes.”
“Impressive.”
Mateo nodded.
“It is.”
Gerardo blinked.
You almost smiled.
He was not used to confidence from people he had abandoned.
Gerardo lowered his voice just enough.
“Listen, this is a professional event. I hope you both understand that.”
You looked at him.
“What exactly should we understand?”
He smiled for anyone watching.
“Old personal matters don’t belong on a stage.”
Mateo tilted his head.
“Then you shouldn’t have built your public image on fatherhood.”
Gerardo’s face hardened.
Ximena inhaled.
Before he could answer, an event coordinator approached.
“Mateo Salas? We’re ready for finalists backstage.”
Mateo turned to you.
You adjusted his tie even though it did not need adjusting.
“I love you,” you said.
“I know.”
“Are you nervous?”
“Yes.”
