I opened the folder.

Give up the house.

Minimum support.

Conditional custody.

Then one clause made my blood run cold: if the baby was not his, I would have to repay him for “all marital expenses.”

I laughed.

A dry, broken laugh.

“Marital expenses? Are you going to charge me for the years I washed your clothes too?”

Paola looked away.

Diego clenched his jaw.

“Sign it, Laura. Don’t make this more embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing was you leaving with your lover instead of coming with me to one appointment.”

I did not sign.

That night, I slept with a chair pushed against the door.

I did not even know why.

Maybe because when a woman has been humiliated enough, every sound starts to feel dangerous.

The next day, I went to the ultrasound alone.

I wore a loose dress.

I brushed my hair.