Rodrigo was riding calmly with his new fiancée when he saw her, his ex-wife, carrying firewood with a huge belly of 7 months of pregnancy. And at that instant, while he was doing the mental calculations, his blood froze, because that baby, that baby was his and he had no idea. There was a time when divorces were public scandals.
When separating meant dishonor for both families, when divorced women were singled out in the streets and divorced men were viewed with suspicion. But there were also exceptions, divorces that happened not because of violence or betrayal, but because of simple incompatibility, because of two good people who wanted different things from life.
Rodrigo and Gabriela had been one of those rare cases. They had married young. He was 26 years old, she was 23. They had been in love, or at least thought they were. The first years were good. They worked together on the small property they had inherited from Gabriela’s father. 10 hectares of fertile land with fruit trees, field for cultivation, modest but cozy house. Gabriela loved that land.
He got up with the sun, worked with his hands, knew every tree, every stone, every corner. For her, that was all she needed. Land to work on, roof over his head, food on the table. But Rodrigo began to want more. She wanted to expand, buy more land, open businesses in the city, hire workers, build an empire and Gabriela didn’t want any of that.
We have enough, Rodrigo, why do you need more? Because I want to build something big, something that will last for generations. The land we have can last for generations if we take good care of it. But Rodrigo did not listen and Gabriela did not give in. The fights became frequent, nonviolent, never violent, but painful. Each pulling in opposite directions, until one day after 8 years of marriage, they sat down at the table and looked at each other sadly.
We cannot continue like this. Rodrigo said in a tired voice. I know. Gabriela responded with tears in her eyes, I want one thing, you want another and none of them are going to change. No, none of them are going to change. So what do we do? Gabriela took a deep breath. We divorced amicably, without rancor, because we still respect each other enough not to destroy each other. And so they did.
The divorce was civilized. Rodrigo left her the small property that she loved so much. He took his share of the money saved and they went their separate ways. Gabriela stayed on her land working as she had always wanted. Rodrigo moved to the nearby city, began to expand his businesses, bought properties, hired employees, did exactly what he had always dreamed of and three weeks after the divorce he met Valentina, daughter of wealthy, beautiful, educated, elegant and most importantly, she shared his vision of
greatness. They got engaged 6 months after the divorce. Rodrigo thought he had found his true partner, someone who understood him, someone who wanted the same things he did. I didn’t know that Gabriela, three weeks after the divorce, had found out she was pregnant.
He didn’t know that she had tried to go and tell him. She didn’t know that when Gabriela knocked on her door, Valentina had answered and told her coldly, Rodrigo doesn’t want to see you. He’s busy building his new life without you. And Gabriela, heartbroken and pride hurt, had decided that if he could replace her in three weeks, then she could raise her son on her own. So he left and didn’t come back.
For 8 months she worked her land. Her belly grew. The people of the village looked at her with pity, some with judgment. But she kept her head high. She had help. Don Vicente, a 50-year-old widowed neighbor, kind as few others, helped her with heavier work. The village midwife, Doña Carmen, checked her regularly.
The baby was healthy, Gabriela too. And then, one spring day, when the sun was shining warm and the air smelled of flowers, Rodrigo rode along the road near the old property. He was with Valentina, both riding fine horses. He showed her the land he planned to buy.
And then Gabriela saw her walking from her house to the barn, carrying an armful of firewood, with a huge belly of advanced pregnancy. Rodrigo pulled the reins. His horse stopped abruptly. Valentina looked at him with confusion. What’s going on? But Rodrigo did not answer. His eyes were fixed on Gabriela. She had not seen him yet.
She was focused on getting to the barn without stumbling. And Rodrigo, doing quick mental calculations, felt that the world stopped 8 months since the divorce, 7 months, maybe almost eight. That baby, that baby was his and he had no idea. If you also feel that these stories should be preserved, subscribe here on the channel and tell us in the comments from which region you are watching us.
We are going to walk together the paths that marked the soul of our people. Rodrigo dismounted without saying a word. His legs almost hit the ground. Valentina also came down confused. Rodrigo, what’s wrong with you? You look pale. But he was already walking fast towards Gabriela. She saw him when he was halfway there. Stopped. His face showed surprise.
Then something more complex. Fear, anger, shame. Rodrigo arrived in front of her, looked at her belly, then her face. Gabriela. She raised her chin proudly. Rodrigo, are you? You’re pregnant, observant as always. How much? Almost 8 months. Rodrigo did the math again. He felt his legs trembling. It’s mine. It wasn’t a question, it was an affirmation.
Gabriela didn’t answer, but the truth was in her eyes. Why didn’t you tell me? Her voice broke. I tried. When? You never came. Yes, I came three weeks after the divorce. I knocked on your door, your fiancée answered. She told me you were busy building your new life. Without mine she turned around.
Valentina was standing at a distance, but close enough to hear. Her eyes showed something he hadn’t seen before. Blame, Valentina. It’s true. She lifted her chin. You were building a new future. You didn’t need her to drag you back into the past. It wasn’t your decision. She was pregnant with my child. I didn’t know. So I just know that when she came she looked desperate and I thought she just wanted to get you back.
Gabriela dropped the firewood. Her hands clenched into fists. I didn’t come to retrieve it, I came to tell her I was pregnant so she would know, but when I saw that I had already replaced you in three weeks, I decided that I didn’t need to know. Of course I needed to know. It’s my son. Your son. Gabriela laughed bitterly.
It’s not my son. I’m the one who’s carried him for 8 months. I’m the one who works every day to prepare his future. I’m the one who wakes up every night feeling his kicks. You were too busy with your new life because you didn’t know. You could have known if you hadn’t moved so fast. Three weeks, Rodrigo, only three weeks and you had a replacement.
Valentina intervened in a cold voice. I wasn’t a replacement, I was a improvement. Gabriela looked at her with contempt. An improvement that lies and manipulates, how noble. Rodrigo raised both hands. Enough both. This, this is too much. He looked at Gabriela. He really looked at her for the first time in months. She was thinner than before, except for her belly.
His face showed tiredness. His hands had new calluses. Her clothes were simple, patched, and she felt a wave of overwhelming guilt. Gabriela, let me help you, please, with money, with work, with whatever you need. I don’t need anything from you. Clearly yes. You are carrying firewood 8 months pregnant. That’s not certain. I have help.
Don Vicente helps me with the heaviest things and this, he pointed to the firewood, I can carry perfectly, but you shouldn’t have to. It is my land, my home, my son. Gabriela closed her eyes, took a deep breath. He was our son, now he’s mine. Because I chose to keep him alone and I’m going to raise him alone. You can’t.
Yes, I can and I will. He bent down with difficulty to collect the firewood. Rodrigo stepped forward. Leave me, don’t touch me. The force in his voice stopped him. Gabriela picked up the firewood, placing it in her arms. Then she looked at him with eyes full of pain and determination. Rodrigo, you kept going.
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