PART 3: THE FATHER WHO DIDN’T KNOW

I spent the entire afternoon looking at the ultrasound photographs.

The technician had printed several images.

Two tiny shapes.

Two separate heartbeats.

Two babies.

I placed the photographs inside my notebook.

Then I wrote beneath them:

“You’re already loved.”

I didn’t tell Dante.

Not immediately.

I needed time to understand my own feelings.

The pregnancy had been unexpected, and discovering I was carrying twins made everything even more overwhelming.

I was frightened.

Excited.

Confused.

And deeply aware that the father of my children was a man I no longer knew how to trust.

Rachel was the first person I told.

I arrived at her apartment carrying the ultrasound envelope.

She was making dinner when I walked in.

“How did it go?”

I placed the envelope on the counter.

She opened it.

Then she stared.

“Lena.”

I nodded.

She looked again.

“Are those…?”

“Twins.”

Rachel screamed.

Then she hugged me so tightly that I started laughing.

“Oh my goodness. Two babies!”

She pulled back and looked at me.

“How are you feeling?”

I laughed again.

“Like I need to sit down.”

She guided me to the sofa.

For the next hour, we discussed everything.

Possible names.

Doctors’ appointments.

The size of the apartment.

Whether I would need help.

And eventually, the question neither of us could avoid.

“Dante needs to know.”

I looked down.

“I know.”

“He’s their father.”

“I know that too.”

Rachel took my hand.

“But he doesn’t get to decide what happens to you just because you’re carrying his children.”

I nodded.

That was exactly what I needed to remember.

***

Meanwhile, Dante was becoming increasingly desperate.

I knew because he kept trying to reach me.

He called.

He sent messages.

He even contacted Rachel once.

She told me he had asked whether I was safe and whether I had somewhere to stay.

She had refused to give him my address.

I didn’t blame her.

Dante was accustomed to solving problems by finding the right person, making the right call, or offering the right amount of money.

But this wasn’t a business problem.

He couldn’t purchase forgiveness.

He couldn’t negotiate trust.

And he couldn’t simply remove Sofia and expect everything to return to normal.

One evening, he sent me a long message.

“I know you don’t want to hear from me, but I need you to understand that Sofia and I never had a physical relationship. I should have established boundaries earlier. I know that. I know I hurt you, and I am sorry. I want to talk when you’re ready.”

I read it several times.

He was admitting more than he had before.

But there was still something missing.

He was describing what had happened as though the greatest mistake had been failing to establish boundaries.

He wasn’t yet acknowledging how many times he had made me doubt myself.

I didn’t respond.

***

Three days later, Dante called again.

This time, I answered.

“Lena?”

His voice sounded different.

Less confident.

More careful.

“Yes.”

“Thank God.”

I closed my eyes.

“I told you I needed time.”

“I know.”

“Then why do you keep calling?”

He was quiet.

Then he said:

“Because I miss you.”

I looked at the ultrasound photographs on my table.

I wanted to tell him.

But I couldn’t.

Not while he still seemed to believe that missing me was the same as understanding what he had done.

“Missing me doesn’t repair anything, Dante.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

He exhaled.

“I’ve been thinking about that night.”

“So have I.”

“I should have stopped it.”

I waited.

He continued.

“I should have told Sofia that our relationship was becoming inappropriate months ago. I should never have allowed her to believe she had that kind of place in my life.”

I closed my eyes.

It was the first time he had spoken about the emotional betrayal without hiding behind the kiss.

But I still needed more.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He hesitated.

“Because I liked the attention.”

The honesty surprised me.

He continued.

“She admired me. She listened to me. She made me feel like I was always right.”

I felt tears gather.

“And I didn’t?”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“But it’s what you allowed to happen.”

He was silent.

Then he said:

“I know.”

I looked down at the ultrasound photographs.

Two tiny lives.

I placed my hand over them.

“Dante, I need to ask you something.”

“Anything.”

“Would you have told me about Sofia if I hadn’t walked into your office?”

He didn’t answer.

I waited.

Finally, he said:

“I don’t know.”

I closed my eyes.

That was the truth I had feared.

He might never have told me.

I ended the call shortly afterward.

***

The next morning, Rachel accompanied me to a consultation about the pregnancy.

The doctor explained that twin pregnancies required additional monitoring.

I would have more appointments.

More scans.

More attention to nutrition and rest.

There was nothing unusual about the pregnancy at that stage, but it was important to follow the recommended care.

I listened carefully.

Then I asked whether stress could affect the babies.

The doctor explained that I should focus on taking care of myself, resting, eating well, and following medical advice.

I nodded.

On the drive home, I looked out the window.

Two babies.

I was going to be a mother of twins.

I had imagined motherhood before.

But never like this.

I had imagined Dante beside me.

I had imagined us choosing a nursery together.

I had imagined him standing beside me at the hospital.

Now I didn’t know whether he would be there.

Rachel glanced at me.

“You’re thinking about him.”

I smiled sadly.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Very.”

I looked at her.

“I don’t want my children to grow up feeling unwanted by their father.”

“They won’t be unwanted because of what happened between you two.”

“But what if he chooses his career? What if he decides I’m too much trouble?”

Rachel shook her head.

“Then he will have to live with that decision. But you don’t have to make it for him.”

She was right.

I couldn’t predict what Dante would do.

I could only decide what I would allow.

***

Two days later, I received a message from Sofia.

I stared at her name for several minutes.

Then I opened it.

“Lena, I know you have no reason to speak to me. I wanted to apologize. I have left the company, and I will not contact Dante again. I understand that I crossed a line. I am sorry for the pain I caused you.”

I read the message twice.

I didn’t respond.

A few minutes later, another message arrived.

“I also want you to know that Dante never promised me a future. I knew he was married. I should have respected that.”

I placed the phone down.

I didn’t know whether Sofia was trying to make herself feel better or genuinely accepting responsibility.

But I knew her explanation didn’t change anything.

My husband had been the person who made vows to me.

He was responsible for protecting our marriage.

And he had failed.

I deleted the message.

Then I returned to the ultrasound photographs.

I had no desire to spend my pregnancy competing with another woman for an apology.

My children deserved better.

And so did I.

***

That evening, Dante called again.

I answered because I had finally decided I couldn’t keep avoiding the conversation forever.

“Lena.”

“Yes.”

“I want to see you.”

I looked at the window.

The city was quiet.

“Why?”

“Because I need to tell you something in person.”

I felt my chest tighten.

“What?”

He paused.

“I want to ask whether there’s any possibility of rebuilding our marriage.”

I closed my eyes.

I had imagined him asking that question.

But hearing it was different.

“I don’t know.”

He exhaled.

“That’s fair.”

I looked down at my hands.

Then I said:

“There is something you need to know.”

His voice changed immediately.

“What is it?”

I took a breath.

“I’m pregnant.”

Silence.

For several seconds, there was no sound at all.

Then Dante whispered:

“What?”

“I’m pregnant, Dante.”

He exhaled sharply.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“When did you find out?”

“Shortly after I left.”

Another silence.

Then his voice became unsteady.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

I looked at the photographs.

“Because I needed time.”

He didn’t argue.

He didn’t accuse me.

He simply asked:

“Is the baby okay?”

I felt tears gather.

“Yes.”

He released a breath.

“Thank God.”

Then he asked:

“Can I see you?”

I closed my eyes.

“There is something else.”

He became quiet.

“What?”

I picked up the ultrasound envelope.

“I’m not carrying one baby.”

I heard him inhale.

“What do you mean?”

I looked at the two tiny images.

“I’m carrying twins.”

For several seconds, Dante didn’t speak.

Then I heard something I had never heard from him before.

He began to cry.