Doctor, My Son is Yours!

Karen

Fatigue enveloped me completely after long hours on duty at the hospital. The smell of clean corridors, permeated by the antiseptic odor, became suffocating. My head throbbed, and a growing sense of malaise began to overwhelm me. Ignoring the signs wasn't an option, so finally, I succumbed to weakness and sought help in the same place where I used to offer it: the hospital.

The doctor, solemn and thoughtful, explained the stress overload and the need for immediate rest. I understood the gravity of the situation, but my mind insisted on focusing on another concern. Max, my fiancé, wasn't answering my calls. Where could he be? Why wasn't he answering just when I needed him the most?

I decided to go straight to Max's apartment, ignoring the advice to rest, longing for the comforting embrace of my fiancé. Upon arriving at the apartment and turning the key in the lock, the scene before my eyes was confusing. Clothes scattered on the floor, and a heavy silence hung in the air, despite my heart pounding in my ears.

I didn't need to go to the bedroom to understand what was happening. On the couch, Max seemed to be resting, embraced by a long-haired blonde whose tresses cascaded disorderly over his bare chest. The shock froze even my soul.

The couple, naked and completely asleep, was an image I never imagined witnessing. A scream of horror escaped my lips, breaking the silence. The sound of the scream echoed in the apartment, and the beautiful couple seemed to awaken. I didn't look once at the woman. My eyes were fixed on Max. Max's bewildered eyes met mine, and for a moment, he seemed unable to process the reality of what was happening at that exact moment.

Max, with a dexterity that revolted me, grabbed a pair of shorts from the nearby armchair and put them on with disconcerting speed. A cynical mask covered his face as if he were about to greet me after an ordinary day.

"You're home early, love?" His question sounded like an insult.

My eyes narrowed in disbelief at the audacity of the traitor. The indignation boiling inside me finally exploded, and I lunged towards Max, determined to make him feel, even for a moment, the pain he had caused me. My hands rose, ready to strike his face, as furious words escaped my lips.

"You bastard! How dare you?" I cursed him with a torrent of obscenities, my voice choked by a mix of fury and pain.

Yet, before my hands could find their deserved target, I was restrained by him, his firm hands gripping mine, preventing any gesture of despair as I struggled against him.

As I struggled against Max, the woman with him seemed to react, getting up. I was so stunned that I hadn't even glanced in the direction of Max's lover. When I realized that the woman with Max was Lilian, an old friend of mine, I felt my world collapse even further. Lilian is someone I hadn't kept in touch with, precisely because Max had managed to convince me that Lilian wasn't a good friend. And now, there was Lilian, with Max. He was right after all. But of course, he knew she wasn't a good friend! He was having an affair with her.

"Lilian!?" The new shock made me stop struggling.

Lilian, now standing, stared at me with a mixture of guilt and surprise, but her expression soon turned into a mask of indifference, as if the lost friendship didn't affect her anymore. Max, in turn, released my hands, taking a step back.

"Karen, I can explain..." Max tried to start, but he was interrupted by the sharp, pain-laden look I shot his way.

Amidst my pain, addressing Max:

"Listen to me very carefully, Max," I declared firmly and clearly, pointing my finger at him. "Never again, do you hear me? Never again do I want to look at your face!"

Without waiting for the explanation he could offer, I turned my back on the man who had betrayed my trust. But it wouldn't be that easy, it seemed. Max ran after me, declaring desperately:

"Karen, I love you. She's not important like you are to me," Max tried to justify himself.

"It's over, Max. There's no forgiveness for what you two did!"

"Karen, please, listen to me," Max held onto my arm, seeking a connection that seemed impossible at that moment. "You were always busy, working so much. You never had time for us. I was feeling lonely. This with Lilian was a mistake, just a distraction, you understand? It has nothing to do with what we have."

I wanted to speak, to explain how much it hurt, but the pain choked my words. However, before I could respond, Lilian, enraged, interrupted Max's attempt to explain himself.

"Just a distraction, is that it?" she snapped, her eyes flashing with indignation. "I'm not just an object, Max! How dare you reduce me to that?"

The argument between the two quickly escalated, while my heart ached. I wanted to scream, but the words stubbornly refused to come out. Max's painful accusations pierced my chest, and I knew that, partly, he was right. I worked too much, I was always busy, and maybe I hadn't reserved enough time for us to have fun together. However, I was only trying to build a solid financial foundation for our future, for our marriage.

The tears I held back threatened to overflow. Yet, Lilian was furious at being labeled merely as an object of desire, and the argument between the two escalated, leaving no room for me to express what I wished.

With nothing else to do in that apartment, I decided to leave at once. My faltering steps led me out of the apartment, and tears began to stream down my face as I distanced myself. I wondered how I could overcome the pain of such betrayal. Max was too busy arguing with Lilian to pay attention to my departure, and that was painful too. What remained of our three-year love story was crumbling before my eyes, and I felt powerless in the face of it.

Karen

I had no idea how long I had been sprawled on the couch, still wearing the same clothes I had worn to leave the hospital and go to Max's apartment, something that seemed to have happened centuries ago. The pain of betrayal cuts deeper than I could imagine. The tears had dried up, but I still hadn't fully processed the scene in that damned traitor's living room.

At that moment, the annoying sound of the doorbell began to echo through the apartment. Initially, I ignored it, hoping that the person on the other side would understand that I wasn't willing to receive visitors. However, the insistence only grew, and the doorbell continued to ring, tirelessly. I glanced at the clock on the wall, hoping that time had passed faster than I realized, but each second seemed like an eternity.

With no notification from the front desk about visitors, I finally realized it could only be one person: Camila, my best friend and apartment neighbor. The thought of facing someone in the sorry state I was in now terrified me, but Camila's persistence outweighed any resistance I might have.

Summoning all the remaining willpower within me, I rose from the couch with a deep sigh and dragged my feet to the door. As I opened the door, I wasn't surprised to see Camila standing there, ready to ring the doorbell once more.

She looked at me with concern in her eyes, instantly recognizing the emotional turmoil I was facing. Her face expressed compassion, and I knew I didn't need to say a word.

"I already know what happened," she said softly, offering a hug that I gladly accepted. "We don't have to talk if you don't want to, but I couldn't leave you alone."

As she stepped into my apartment, I realized that I truly needed someone to confide in. Keeping it all to myself could only cause even greater harm.

As Camila prepared something in the kitchen for what would be our late dinner, I poured my heart out to her about the whole misadventure that had happened that day. The words flowed without filter, laden with pain and anger. Camila listened attentively, offering words of comfort when needed and maintaining a sympathetic gaze.

The kitchen wafted with the comforting smell of the food being prepared, but my stomach was too tight to even consider the idea of eating. Still, Camila insisted, showing care in a way only she knew how. I accepted the meal more out of not wanting to oppose her than out of real appetite.

As we sat down at the table, I thanked her for her kindness. It was at that moment that something Camila said when she arrived at my apartment began to echo in my mind. I looked up at her and asked, almost casually, how she found out about what happened.

Camila hesitated for a moment before admitting:

"It was Max. He called me, asking for help."

Those words hit me like a bomb in my chest. Max, the traitor, dared to intrude on my pain, seeking help from my best friend. Anger grew inside me, mixed with pain and betrayal.

"He... he called you?" My voice came out in a whisper full of disbelief.

Camila nodded, concern etched on her face.

"He was so distraught, Karen. He feared you might do something to yourself. He said he would never forgive himself if anything happened."

Those words were like knives being plunged into my wounded heart. At no point had the idea of doing anything so drastic crossed my mind, and the fact that Max had considered it made me hate him even more.

********

I did not doubt that the night ahead would be long, and filled with tumultuous thoughts. Camila, despite all her concerns, had already left, leaving me alone to ponder Max's words.

Lying in my bed, I couldn't stop thinking about how self-centered Max was. The whole situation was about him and his petty justifications, without caring about the impact his actions had on me. I felt like I had been robbed of years of my life, years I had dedicated to building a future with someone who didn't deserve my time.

I tossed and turned until dawn, reflecting on my life and everything I had sacrificed over the past few years in the name of a relationship that was now unraveling before my eyes. The hope of a future with Max had turned to ashes, and I felt lost.

As the day began to break, I managed to sleep a little, but upon waking up, I felt even more tired than before. I silently thanked myself for not having to work in the next few days, as the doctor had given me medical leave and recommended rest.

It was then, amidst these reflections, that the idea of a trip emerged. Leaving Curitiba, leaving behind the painful memories and the certainty that I wouldn't encounter Max, Lilian, or any other unpleasant person would be very appropriate for the moment.

I remembered Camila's proposal: the planned vacation in Fernando de Noronha with a group of friends. At the time when I was immersed in plans with Max, I declined the invitation. However, now everything was different. The trip not only seemed like a great option but also an urgent necessity to reconnect with myself.

I immediately texted Camila.

"Of course, you are very welcome, friend!" Camila replied, expressing excitement. "We have exactly two days, but I'll help you organize everything."

"Thank you, friend. You have no idea how much I need this trip."

"But of course I do! You're being very sensible in deciding to take a break from everything. I must admit I'm surprised, but also very happy."

Even as I faced the pain and exhaustion, a spark of excitement ignited at the prospect of a change of scenery. The idea of starting the emotional healing process away from familiar places brought me a comforting relief.

The two days passed before me in the blink of an eye, with Camila and me immersed in last-minute preparations for the trip. Between packing our bags, ensuring documents were in order, and making a list of what we needed to bring, I managed to keep my mind occupied, easing some of the burdens I carried.

As we boarded the plane bound for Fernando de Noronha, a mixture of nervousness and excitement coursed through my body. Camila, with a huge smile, commented on the cost of the trip.

"I can't believe we spent so much money on a five-day trip!" she complained, but her smile betrayed her excitement.

"Me neither!" We chuckled together conspiratorially. "But I promise I'll make it worth it. Believe me!"

Othon

The night is progressing, and how much I've already drunk is a mystery to me. I'm in a state of relaxation that only vacations can provide. I still maintain enough sobriety to admire the natural beauty before me. And when I talk about natural beauty, I'm not exactly thinking about nature itself. I make this observation to my friends, who laugh in response.

"The problem is you only keep looking, Othon," Colin complains.

"And I don't understand why. Are you saving yourself for the love of your life?" The question comes from Noah, who grimaces just at the mention of the word "love."

"Maybe..." I give the same answer as always.

The atmosphere is quite lively on another day of vacation in Fernando de Noronha. Colin, Noah, and I are making the most of this paradise of sun and sea. We're completely different, but from the moment we met, we became inseparable friends, always choosing the same destination for our vacations.

I continue sipping my drink calmly when I notice the entrance of a goddess. The girl is simply stunning. Black, with long curly hair and a sculpted body, a perfect vision of exuberance. My friends notice my change of expression and follow my gaze, coming face to face with the same impressive sight that captured me.

"Who is that goddess?" I ask, almost whispering, but with excitement evident in my voice.

My friends laugh again, realizing that something unusual is about to happen. It's amazing how a presence can change the course of an already fun night.

My eyes can't seem to stray from the woman who caught my attention, but I notice she is quite reserved. Her gaze remains fixed on the people in her group, composed of five women, all incredibly beautiful. However, my attention is fully focused on her in particular. She is the vision dominating my thoughts on this night in Fernando de Noronha.

"I'm completely enchanted," I confess to my friends.

Othon, bluntly, says something I feared:

"I'm sorry to say, but she doesn't seem to reciprocate your interest."

Noah, adding to the sincerity of the moment, opines:

"She doesn't seem interested in meeting anyone tonight."

In a moment of self-awareness, I realize that the three of us are focusing on my girl and discussing her. However, she doesn't even glance in our direction, just like her friends also seems oblivious to our existence.

"Maybe she's just a lesbian," Noah suggests, studying the situation with a critical eye.

Even in the face of uncertainty suggested by my friends, I maintain the conviction that this isn't the case. I persist in my attempt to capture her attention.

"I'm more than willing to bet she'll succumb to my charms," I assert, determined, as my beloved's eyes continue to avoid mine.

My friends respond with laughter and wishes of good luck when I announce that I'm going to try to approach her. With a confident smile, I begin my journey toward the woman who is stirring my senses, fully determined to win her gaze amidst the crowd at the bar.

Reaching the group of women proved more challenging than I imagined, given the crowded venue. Loud music, laughter, and lively conversations create a chaotic scene, making it difficult for me to pass through. However, determined, I maneuver through the crowd, keeping my focus on reaching my girl amidst the hustle and bustle.

Just one step away from her, my heart races with the anticipation of the impending encounter, especially when I notice she is now alone, her friends seeming to have suddenly disappeared. However, my path is abruptly interrupted by a man who appears in front of me, inviting her to dance. The girl declines, but the man persists, offering her a drink. Again, she refuses, and the situation becomes more uncomfortable when the man becomes pushy, grabbing her arm.

Understanding the need to intervene when the young woman politely asks him to release her arm, I approach boldly:

"Didn't you hear the lady?" I ask firmly. "Let her go."

The man, visibly agitated, responds defiantly:

"Get lost, man! I got here first!"

I realize from his disjointed speech that he has had more to drink than he should have, and I decide to be more assertive, blatantly lying:

"I think you didn't understand, but she's with me."

The girl looks at me, surprised and grateful at the same time. The man seems momentarily taken aback but releases her arm.

"You should take better care of what's yours, idiot," he says, annoyed, and finally walks away.

"I was cursed at, but you managed to get rid of that guy," I say, and my smile is entirely sincere.

My muse is even more stunning up close; I am captivated. I hope my intervention was enough to ward off the unwanted intruder and, at the same time, create an opportunity to talk to the woman who captured my heart that night in Fernando de Noronha.

"I'm Othon," I introduce myself. "And you are...?"

I extend my hand to the young woman who captured my heart, feeling it almost skip a beat at her hesitation to accept my gesture of courtesy. I breathe a sigh of relief when she finally responds.

"Karen," she says without much conviction.

"Karen," I savor the name, which fits her perfectly, and I can't resist offering an honest compliment: "It's a beautiful name."

The expression on her face betrays a certain discomfort, and I immediately regret complimenting her name. I'm not naive. I know that many men use this subterfuge to win over women, but I was totally sincere. I apologize immediately, although she brushes it off with a simple "thank you," claiming she's already leaving.

I'm certain it was just an excuse not to continue the conversation because until I arrived, she didn't seem about to leave. However, I have no choice but to bid farewell and return to my friends. I don't want to be another one imposing my presence on her, like the other man who approached.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Karen," again, I wasn't just speaking out of courtesy.

I regret that my approach wasn't well received and turn away disheartened, ready to walk back to my friends. However, before I can take the first step, I hear my name being called. Surprised, I quickly turn back to Karen.

I stare at her expectantly, waiting for what she has to say.

"Would you... like a drink?"

Consternation overtakes me at Karen's unexpected offer, but I quickly try to disguise it. My face lights up with genuine surprise, and for a moment, I'm at a loss for words.

"Oh, thank you!" I express my gratitude, accepting the drink. "I would love to."

Karen smiles lightly, and for an instant, our eyes meet. A new energy seems to hang in the air, and my heart, which moments ago was disheartened, now beats faster with the possibility of something unexpected and intriguing happening that night.