**A MULTIMILLIONAIRE CEO SEES HIS EX-GIRLFRIEND WAITING FOR AN UBER WITH THREE IDENTICAL SIX-YEAR-OLD CHILDREN…**
A multimillionaire sees his ex-girlfriend, whom he abandoned six years ago, waiting for an Uber with three children identical to him. What he didn’t know was that those children were Julian Castañeda, who had just left a meeting in Polanco. It was one of those endless meetings where everyone feels important and talks as if they were saving the world. He just wanted to get out of there. He got into his armored SUV, gave the usual instructions to his driver, and pulled out his phone to check messages while they moved through a somewhat congested street. He glanced out the window without much interest when suddenly he saw her. There she was, standing on the sidewalk right in front of a pharmacy, looking tired and a bit desperate. Her hair was hastily tied back, she wore simple clothes, and hugged a half-broken grocery bag. Beside her were three children, all identical, with the same eyes, the same mouth, the same expression as they looked around as if waiting for something to happen. And those eyes were his. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be. He leaned forward to see better, but just then another car pulled in between them, and the image disappeared.
“Stop!” Julian shouted without thinking. The driver slammed on the brakes, looking worried. Julian opened the door without waiting for a response, stepped down to street level, and desperately scanned the sidewalk. It was crowded as always, but she was no longer there. He hurried through the pedestrians, searching for her, ignoring the comments from those who recognized him. His heart was racing. It was her. It was Valeria. And those children… After a few minutes, he saw her crossing the street, holding hands with the three kids, getting into a gray car that was clearly an Uber. He froze, feeling his stomach tighten. He didn’t know whether to run, shout her name, or just let her go. The car started and disappeared into the afternoon traffic. Julian stood there, paralyzed, watching how that scene left him trembling.
He returned to his SUV automatically, not saying a word. The driver glanced at him through the mirror, but Julian didn’t utter a single word. He was completely lost in thought. All he could think about were those three children with his face. He pressed his forehead, closed his eyes, and let out a deep sigh. He hadn’t seen Valeria in six years since that early morning when he decided to leave without saying goodbye. He hadn’t even left a message. They were fine, yes, but he had plans. He was about to close a deal that would change everything. He left thinking she would understand, that there would be time later to fix things, but that time never came.
The car continued its journey to his apartment in Santa Fe. When he arrived, Julian angrily took off his jacket and threw it onto the couch. He poured himself a drink, even though it wasn’t even 5 PM yet. He paced back and forth, recalling everything he had lived with Valeria: her laughter, the way she looked at him when he talked about his dreams, how she hugged him when he came home late and just wanted to sleep. And then he thought about those kids. How was it possible they looked so much like him? He picked up his phone and searched social media. Nothing. Not a single photo, not a hint. Valeria had disappeared from the digital world as if she had never existed. That made him feel strange because he had tried to forget her, but deep down, he never could. It was that kind of love you keep in a box that you don’t want to open again because you know it will hurt.
He sat in front of his computer, opened an encrypted folder where he kept personal files, and searched for old photos. There they were: Valeria at the beach, Valeria in his apartment, Valeria with her dog, Valeria in pajamas laughing with her mouth full of popcorn. He looked at each one until he came across one where she was hugging him from behind, her face pressed against his neck. He stared at the photo for a long time, then pressed his lips together. He knew what he had to do.
“Mateo, I need you to find someone. Her name is Valeria Ortega. I don’t have an address; I just know she lives in Mexico City and has three kids.”
“And anything else?”
“Yes, those kids could be mine.” There was an awkward silence on the other end of the line. “Understood, sir,” Mateo said, and hung up. Julian stared out at the city through the window, thousands of lights, thousands of people, but at that moment, only one mattered to him. He didn’t know if she was angry, if she hated him, or if she had simply moved on, but he couldn’t leave it like that. He couldn’t stay with the doubt because if they were what he thought they were, then his life was about to change completely.
The next morning, he woke up with only one thing on his mind: to find her. And this time he wasn’t going to leave without answers. Julian didn’t sleep well that night, tossing and turning in bed, staring at the ceiling, then getting up, pacing around the apartment, lying back down, closing his eyes, and seeing that scene again: Valeria standing on the street with her three kids, so much like him that it hurt. It was as if his past had come rushing back without warning and slapped him in the face.
The next day, before 8 AM, he was already in his office. His team greeted him as always with respect and fake smiles. He barely responded. He headed straight to his office, closed the door, and stared out the window. The whole city continued its routine: cars, people, noise, but inside him, everything was chaos. He sat at his desk, grabbed his phone, and started checking social media again, searching for her name, her face, any trace of Valeria. Nothing. Not on Facebook, not on Instagram, nowhere. It was as if the earth had swallowed her whole. That made him angrier. How could someone disappear so easily? How was it that he, with all his resources, had no idea about anything?
Mateo arrived with a coffee and some papers. Julian barely looked at him. “Anything?” he asked bluntly. “Not yet, boss. We’re tracking her down through birth records and school registrations, but if she changed her address and name, it will take a while.” Julian nodded, not in the mood for chit-chat. When Mateo left, he was alone again, resting his elbows on the desk, holding his head in his hands, and closing his eyes. Memories started flooding in as if someone was playing a movie in his mind. He saw himself six years ago, younger, less tired, with that ambition that almost oozed from his pores. Back then, he and Valeria lived together in a small apartment in Narvarte. They didn’t have luxuries, but they had everything. He worked from home, putting together presentations, looking for investors, trying to launch his first company. She was a preschool teacher, coming home exhausted but always with a smile. They laughed at silly things, ordered pizza at night, sometimes they couldn’t afford gas and showered with cold water, but they were together, and that was enough back then.
But then the opportunity came: a foreign fund wanted to invest in his project, but he had to move to Monterrey for a year. That’s when everything changed. He proposed that she go with him, but she said she couldn’t leave her job, her students, everything she had. They argued many times, each time more heated until one morning, without saying anything, he grabbed his backpack, his laptop, a few papers, and left. He left her a silly note that said, “I’m sorry, I can’t stay.” That cowardly act was the last time he ever heard from her. He thought of writing to her many times, but he always put it off. Then his company exploded, the Tonis came, the trips, the millions, the interviews, the luxuries, but sometimes when he was alone, he remembered Valeria, and it hurt. Now all of that came rushing back as if time hadn’t passed, as if life was telling him, “You haven’t finished this chapter.”
Julian stood up from his chair, walked over to the wall where he had a display case with awards, photos with politicians, recognition from entrepreneurs, but there was a small box tucked away in the back with things he hadn’t touched in years. He took it down, placed it on the table, and opened it. Inside was a red thread bracelet that Valeria had given him when they first started dating, a handwritten letter in her handwriting, a movie ticket, and an old positive pregnancy test. He stared at it, his blood running cold. He didn’t remember putting it away. Maybe she left it in the apartment before he left. Maybe back then he didn’t want to understand, but now, looking at that test and remembering the kids, everything clicked. She had gotten pregnant, and he had left.
He sat back down, looked at the ceiling, feeling anger, sadness, guilt—all mixed together. He didn’t know what hurt more: having left her alone at that moment or having missed six years of those kids’ lives. His phone vibrated. It was a message from Mateo saying, “We found something. I’m sending the address in 5 minutes.” Julian stared at the screen, took a deep breath, and knew that message would lead him straight to where everything changed. What he didn’t know was if he was ready to face it.
Julian arrived at the address Mateo sent him an hour later. He didn’t want to take the driver; he went alone, driving his car with the music off and sweaty hands on the steering wheel. The area wasn’t dangerous, but it didn’t resemble the places where he moved around now. There were pothole-filled streets, taco stands, people sitting outside their homes, kids playing soccer barefoot. When he parked the SUV, he spent a few seconds staring at the old building with peeling paint, but it didn’t look abandoned. He checked the number twice; yes, it was there. He looked up at the third floor. He didn’t know which apartment she lived in, but something in his chest told him she was there. In that moment, he didn’t dare to go up. He thought about knocking, but he didn’t know what to say: “Hi, I’m the idiot who left you pregnant six years ago.” He laughed bitterly, ran his hand over his face, and decided to wait. Mateo had told him she left for work every day around 4 PM. It was 3:30, so he stayed in the car, watching the building as if it were an enemy.
At exactly 4 PM, the building door opened. Valeria stepped out with the three kids. They were neatly dressed with small backpacks, walking like soldiers. She had a large bag slung over her shoulder and a phone in hand, walking towards the corner where the combis passed. Julian got out of the car without thinking. His legs moved on their own. He crossed the street and caught up with them on the sidewalk. When he was within three meters, he called her name. “Valeria.” She turned immediately, frozen in place. The kids also stopped, looking at him curiously. The silence lasted a few seconds that felt like hours. She didn’t say anything; she just looked at him as if she couldn’t believe he was there.
“Can we talk?” Julian said, his voice low but firm. Valeria looked down, didn’t greet him, didn’t ask anything. She just told the kids to go ahead and wait for her at the little store on the corner. They obeyed without saying anything. Then she looked him straight in the eyes. “What are you doing here?” Julian swallowed hard, not knowing where to start. “I saw you a few days ago. You were waiting for an Uber with them.” She didn’t respond, just kept looking at him, not afraid but very cold. “Don’t tell me it was a coincidence that you found me,” she finally said in a dry tone. “Because I don’t believe you.” “It was a coincidence that day,” he replied quickly, “but not today. I came because I need to know.”
“Know what?”
“If they are mine.” Valeria crossed her arms, took a deep breath as if she were holding back a scream. “And if they are, what? Are you going to take them away? Are you going to pull them out of their lives to put them into yours, filled with luxury and things they don’t even understand?” “I just want to know them, to know about them.” Valeria looked at him with glistening eyes but didn’t shed a single tear. “You didn’t care to stay. Why did you leave as if I didn’t exist? You left me with a note.”
Julian looked down. He had no way to defend himself against that. “You’re right,” he said barely audible. “And now what? Are you going to pretend to be the remorseful dad, the man who has it all and wants to fill the void with something he abandoned?” “I’m not here to do anything. I’m here to assume whatever I have to assume. If they are mine, I want to be there—not to take them away from you, not to change their lives, just to be there.” Valeria looked at him with a mix of anger and sadness, then glanced at the kids who were already calling for her from the little store. She checked her watch. “I have to go. I work at 5.”
“Can I see you another day?” he asked, almost pleading.
“I don’t know. I don’t know if I want that. I don’t know if I want to let you back into our lives. It took us a long time to get through this.” “Just once more, a coffee, a neutral place. You choose.” She hesitated, thought for a few seconds, then pulled out her phone, opened the notes app, and wrote something down. She showed him the screen. “Tomorrow at 6 at that café. If you arrive a minute late, I’m leaving.” Julian nodded. She turned around without saying anything else, went to her kids, took their hands, and walked away as if nothing had happened. He stood there, feeling like a huge stone had been placed on his chest, but he also felt something else. There was a tiny opportunity, but it was there.
Julian couldn’t concentrate on anything for the rest of the day. He canceled a meeting with investors, ignored messages from his fiancée, and locked himself in his apartment, pacing like a caged lion with his phone in hand, checking the café address every 5 minutes as if it were going to disappear. He had the appointment with Valeria the next day, but his mind couldn’t wait. Something inside him wouldn’t let him be calm. He had to know more. He poured himself a whisky without ice, took a long sip, and sat in front of his computer. He entered his email, searched for Mateo’s direct contact, and sent a short message: “I need to know more about Valeria. Everything you find—schools for the kids, jobs, anything. Urgent.”
Not even 5 minutes passed before Mateo called him. “Are you sure, boss? This could be delicate.”
“Do it. I want to know if they are mine. I’m not going to wait for her to tell me in words.” Mateo hesitated but agreed. They hung up, and Julian stayed there, staring at the screen, his fingers trembling. He knew it wasn’t right, that he was crossing a line, but he couldn’t help it. He had that feeling in his stomach, that mix of anxiety and fear. Something inside him screamed that those kids were his. He didn’t need proof; he had seen them. It was like looking in a mirror divided into three.
He tried to sleep for a while, but it was useless. He got back on social media, again with no results. Then he searched Google for “How to know if a child is your son without official tests?” The answers were absurd. He closed everything and slumped on the couch, staring at the ceiling. The clock read 2 AM. The next day dawned with a light fog. Julian woke up early, more from nerves than habit. He showered, changed his shirt three times, and left with more than an hour to spare.
He arrived at the café, ordered a table in the corner away from the windows, and sat down with his leg moving nonstop. He checked the clock every 2 minutes. People came in and out, but Valeria didn’t arrive. When there were 10 minutes left until 6, he thought she wasn’t coming, and his chest tightened. But just at 6 PM, the door opened, and there she was. She came alone, wearing a simple blouse and her hair in a ponytail. She wore no makeup or accessories, just herself, as he remembered. Julian stood up without saying anything. Valeria approached, sat down in front of him, and looked directly at him. “You have 15 minutes.” He nodded, sat back down, and took a breath.
“Thanks for coming.”
“I didn’t do it for you,” she said immediately. “I did it to make things clear.” Julian looked down for a second and then back at her. “I want to know if the kids are mine. I’m not here out of remorse or guilt. I’m here because I need to know the truth.”
“And if I say yes, what will you do?”
“Be there. Support them. Be part of their lives, even if you don’t want me close.” She looked at him seriously. “You can’t come back six years late and pretend everything will fit perfectly. You don’t know what this has been like: raising them alone, working two jobs, making miracles with money. And you? You didn’t even ask if I was okay. You left me with a note.”
Julian looked down again. He had no way to defend himself against that. “You’re right,” he said barely audible. “And now what? Are you going to pretend to be the remorseful dad, the man who has it all and wants to fill the void with something he abandoned?” “I’m not here to do anything. I’m here to assume whatever I have to assume. If they are mine, I want to be there—not to take them away from you, not to change their lives, just to be there.” Valeria looked at him with a mix of anger and sadness, then glanced at the kids who were already calling for her from the little store. She checked her watch. “I have to go. I work at 5.”
“Can I see you another day?” he asked, almost pleading.
“I don’t know. I don’t know if I want that. I don’t know if I want to let you back into our lives. It took us a long time to get through this.” “Just once more, a coffee, a neutral place. You choose.” She hesitated, thought for a few seconds, then pulled out her phone, opened the notes app, and wrote something down. She showed him the screen. “Tomorrow at 6 at that café. If you arrive a minute late, I’m leaving.” Julian nodded. She turned around without saying anything else, went to her kids, took their hands, and walked away as if nothing had happened. He stood there, feeling like a huge stone had been placed on his chest, but he also felt something else. There was a tiny opportunity, but it was there.
Julian couldn’t concentrate on anything for the rest of the day. He canceled a meeting with investors, ignored messages from his fiancée, and locked himself in his apartment, pacing like a caged lion with his phone in hand, checking the café address every 5 minutes as if it were going to disappear. He had the appointment with Valeria the next day, but his mind couldn’t wait. Something inside him wouldn’t let him be calm. He had to know more. He poured himself a whisky without ice, took a long sip, and sat in front of his computer. He entered his email, searched for Mateo’s direct contact, and sent a short message: “I need to know more about Valeria. Everything you find—schools for the kids, jobs, anything. Urgent.”
Not even 5 minutes passed before Mateo called him. “Are you sure, boss? This could be delicate.”
“Do it. I want to know if they are mine. I’m not going to wait for her to tell me in words.” Mateo hesitated but agreed. They hung up, and Julian stayed there, staring at the screen, his fingers trembling. He knew it wasn’t right, that he was crossing a line, but he couldn’t help it. He had that feeling in his stomach, that mix of anxiety and fear. Something inside him screamed that those kids were his. He didn’t need proof; he had seen them. It was like looking in a mirror divided into three.
He tried to sleep for a while, but it was useless. He got back on social media, again with no results. Then he searched Google for “How to know if a child is your son without official tests?” The answers were absurd. He closed everything and slumped on the couch, staring at the ceiling. The clock read 2 AM. The next day dawned with a light fog. Julian woke up early, more from nerves than habit. He showered, changed his shirt three times, and left with more than an hour to spare.
He arrived at the café, ordered a table in the corner away from the windows, and sat down with his leg moving nonstop. He checked the clock every 2 minutes. People came in and out, but Valeria didn’t arrive. When there were 10 minutes left until 6, he thought she wasn’t coming, and his chest tightened. But just at 6 PM, the door opened, and there she was. She came alone, wearing a simple blouse and her hair in a ponytail. She wore no makeup or accessories, just herself, as he remembered. Julian stood up without saying anything. Valeria approached, sat down in front of him, and looked directly at him. “You have 15 minutes.” He nodded, sat back down, and took a breath.
“Thanks for coming.”
“I didn’t do it for you,” she said immediately. “I did it to make things clear.” Julian looked down for a second and then back at her. “I want to know if the kids are mine. I’m not here out of remorse or guilt. I’m here because I need to know the truth.”
“And if I say yes, what will you do?”
“Be there. Support them. Be part of their lives, even if you don’t want me close.” She looked at him seriously. “You can’t come back six years late and pretend everything will fit perfectly. You don’t know what this has been like: raising them alone, working two jobs, making miracles with money. And you? You didn’t even ask if I was okay. You left me with a note.”
Julian looked down again. He had no way to defend himself against that. “You’re right,” he said barely audible. “And now what? Are you going to pretend to be the remorseful dad, the man who has it all and wants to fill the void with something he abandoned?” “I’m not here to do anything. I’m here to assume whatever I have to assume. If they are mine, I want to be there—not to take them away from you, not to change their lives, just to be there.” Valeria looked at him with a mix of anger and sadness, then glanced at the kids who were already calling for her from the little store. She checked her watch. “I have to go. I work at 5.”
“Can I see you another day?” he asked, almost pleading.
“I don’t know. I don’t know if I want that. I don’t know if I want to let you back into our lives. It took us a long time to get through this.” “Just once more, a coffee, a neutral place. You choose.” She hesitated, thought for a few seconds, then pulled out her phone, opened the notes app, and wrote something down. She showed him the screen. “Tomorrow at 6 at that café. If you arrive a minute late, I’m leaving.” Julian nodded. She turned around without saying anything else, went to her kids, took their hands, and walked away as if nothing had happened. He stood there, feeling like a huge stone had been placed on his chest, but he also felt something else. There was a tiny opportunity, but it was there.
Julian couldn’t concentrate on anything for the rest of the day. He canceled a meeting with investors, ignored messages from his fiancée, and locked himself in his apartment, pacing like a caged lion with his phone in hand, checking the café address every 5 minutes as if it were going to disappear. He had the appointment with Valeria the next day, but his mind couldn’t wait. Something inside him wouldn’t let him be calm. He had to know more. He poured himself a whisky without ice, took a long sip, and sat in front of his computer. He entered his email, searched for Mateo’s direct contact, and sent a short message: “I need to know more about Valeria. Everything you find—schools for the kids, jobs, anything. Urgent.”
Not even 5 minutes passed before Mateo called him. “Are you sure, boss? This could be delicate.”
“Do it. I want to know if they are mine. I’m not going to wait for her to tell me in words.” Mateo hesitated but agreed. They hung up, and Julian stayed there, staring at the screen, his fingers trembling. He knew it wasn’t right, that he was crossing a line, but he couldn’t help it. He had that feeling in his stomach, that mix of anxiety and fear. Something inside him screamed that those kids were his. He didn’t need proof; he had seen them. It was like looking in a mirror divided into three.
He tried to sleep for a while, but it was useless. He got back on social media, again with no results. Then he searched Google for “How to know if a child is your son without official tests?” The answers were absurd. He closed everything and slumped on the couch, staring at the ceiling. The clock read 2 AM. The next day dawned with a light fog. Julian woke up early, more from nerves than habit. He showered, changed his shirt three times, and left with more than an hour to spare.
He arrived at the café, ordered a table in the corner away from the windows, and sat down with his leg moving nonstop. He checked the clock every 2 minutes. People came in and out, but Valeria didn’t arrive. When there were 10 minutes left until 6, he thought she wasn’t coming, and his chest tightened. But just at 6 PM, the door opened, and there she was. She came alone, wearing a simple blouse and her hair in a ponytail. She wore no makeup or accessories, just herself, as he remembered. Julian stood up without saying anything. Valeria approached, sat down in front of him, and looked directly at him. “You have 15 minutes.” He nodded, sat back down, and took a breath.
“Thanks for coming.”
“I didn’t do it for you,” she said immediately. “I did it to make things clear.” Julian looked down for a second and then back at her. “I want to know if the kids are mine. I’m not here out of remorse or guilt. I’m here because I need to know the truth.”
“And if I say yes, what will you do?”
“Be there. Support them. Be part of their lives, even if you don’t want me close.” She looked at him seriously. “You can’t come back six years late and pretend everything will fit perfectly. You don’t know what this has been like: raising them alone, working two jobs, making miracles with money. And you? You didn’t even ask if I was okay. You left me with a note.”
Julian looked down again. He had no way to defend himself against that. “You’re right,” he said barely audible. “And now what? Are you going to pretend to be the remorseful dad, the man who has it all and wants to fill the void with something he abandoned?” “I’m not here to do anything. I’m here to assume whatever I have to assume. If they are mine, I want to be there—not to take them away from you, not to change their lives, just to be there.” Valeria looked at him with a mix of anger and sadness, then glanced at the kids who were already calling for her from the little store. She checked her watch. “I have to go. I work at 5.”
“Can I see you another day?” he asked, almost pleading.
“I don’t know. I don’t know if I want that. I don’t know if I want to let you back into our lives. It took us a long time to get through this.” “Just once more, a coffee, a neutral place. You choose.” She hesitated, thought for a few seconds, then pulled out her phone, opened the notes app, and wrote something down. She showed him the screen. “Tomorrow at 6 at that café. If you arrive a minute late, I’m leaving.” Julian nodded. She turned around without saying anything else, went to her kids, took their hands, and walked away as if nothing had happened. He stood there, feeling like a huge stone had been placed on his chest, but he also felt something else. There was a tiny opportunity, but it was there.
Julian couldn’t concentrate on anything for the rest of the day. He canceled a meeting with investors, ignored messages from his fiancée, and locked himself in his apartment, pacing like a caged lion with his phone in hand, checking the café address every 5 minutes as if it were going to disappear. He had the appointment with Valeria the next day, but his mind couldn’t wait. Something inside him wouldn’t let him be calm. He had to know more. He poured himself a whisky without ice, took a long sip, and sat in front of his computer. He entered his email, searched for Mateo’s direct contact, and sent a short message: “I need to know more about Valeria. Everything you find—schools for the kids, jobs, anything. Urgent.”
Not even 5 minutes passed before Mateo called him. “Are you sure, boss? This could be delicate.”
“Do it. I want to know if they are mine. I’m not going to wait for her to tell me in words.” Mateo hesitated but agreed. They hung up, and Julian stayed there, staring at the screen, his fingers trembling. He knew it wasn’t right, that he was crossing a line, but he couldn’t help it. He had that feeling in his stomach, that mix of anxiety and fear. Something inside him screamed that those kids were his. He didn’t need proof; he had seen them. It was like looking in a mirror divided into three.
He tried to sleep for a while, but it was useless. He got back on social media, again with no results. Then he searched Google for “How to know if a child is your son without official tests?” The answers were absurd. He closed everything and slumped on the couch, staring at the ceiling. The clock read 2 AM. The next day dawned with a light fog. Julian woke up early, more from nerves than habit. He showered, changed his shirt three times, and left with more than an hour to spare.
He arrived at the café, ordered a table in the corner away from the windows, and sat down with his leg moving nonstop. He checked the clock every 2 minutes. People came in and out, but Valeria didn’t arrive. When there were 10 minutes left until 6, he thought she wasn’t coming, and his chest tightened. But just at 6 PM, the door opened, and there she was. She came alone, wearing a simple blouse and her hair in a ponytail. She wore no makeup or accessories, just herself, as he remembered. Julian stood up without saying anything. Valeria approached, sat down in front of him, and looked directly at him. “You have 15 minutes.” He nodded, sat back down, and took a breath.
“Thanks for coming.”
“I didn’t do it for you,” she said immediately. “I did it to make things clear.” Julian looked down for a second and then back at her. “I want to know if the kids are mine. I’m not here out of remorse or guilt. I’m here because I need to know the truth.”
“And if I say yes, what will you do?”
“Be there. Support them. Be part of their lives, even if you don’t want me close.” She looked at him seriously. “You can’t come back six years late and pretend everything will fit perfectly. You don’t know what this has been like: raising them alone, working two jobs, making miracles with money. And you? You didn’t even ask if I was okay. You left me with a note.”
Julian looked down again. He had no way to defend himself against that. “You’re right,” he said barely audible. “And now what? Are you going to pretend to be the remorseful dad, the man who has it all and wants to fill the void with something he abandoned?” “I’m not here to do anything. I’m here to assume whatever I have to assume. If they are mine, I want to be there—not to take them away from you, not to change their lives, just to be there.” Valeria looked at him with a mix of anger and sadness, then glanced at the kids who were already calling for her from the little store. She checked her watch. “I have to go. I work at 5.”
“Can I see you another day?” he asked, almost pleading.
“I don’t know. I don’t know if I want that. I don’t know if I want to let you back into our lives. It took us a long time to get through this.” “Just once more, a coffee, a neutral place. You choose.” She hesitated, thought for a few seconds, then pulled out her phone, opened the notes app, and wrote something down. She showed him the screen. “Tomorrow at 6 at that café. If you arrive a minute late, I’m leaving.” Julian nodded. She turned around without saying anything else, went to her kids, took their hands, and walked away as if nothing had happened. He stood there, feeling like a huge stone had been placed on his chest, but he also felt something else. There was a tiny opportunity, but it was there.
Julian couldn’t concentrate on anything for the rest of the day. He canceled a meeting with investors, ignored messages from his fiancée, and locked himself in his apartment, pacing like a caged lion with his phone in hand, checking the café address every 5 minutes as if it were going to disappear. He had the appointment with Valeria the next day, but his mind couldn’t wait. Something inside him wouldn’t let him be calm. He had to know more. He poured himself a whisky without ice, took a long sip, and sat in front of his computer. He entered his email, searched for Mateo’s direct contact, and sent a short message: “I need to know more about Valeria. Everything you find—schools for the kids, jobs, anything. Urgent.”
Not even 5 minutes passed before Mateo called him. “Are you sure, boss? This could be delicate.”
“Do it. I want to know if they are mine. I’m not going to wait for her to tell me in words.” Mateo hesitated but agreed. They hung up, and Julian stayed there, staring at the screen, his fingers trembling. He knew it wasn’t right, that he was crossing a line, but he couldn’t help it. He had that feeling in his stomach, that mix of anxiety and fear. Something inside him screamed that those kids were his. He didn’t need proof; he had seen them. It was like looking in a mirror divided into three.
He tried to sleep for a while, but it was useless. He got back on social media, again with no results. Then he searched Google for “How to know if a child is your son without official tests?” The answers were absurd. He closed everything and slumped on the couch, staring at the ceiling. The clock read 2 AM. The next day dawned with a light fog. Julian woke up early, more from nerves than habit. He showered, changed his shirt three times, and left with more than an hour to spare.
He arrived at the café, ordered a table in the corner away from the windows, and sat down with his leg moving nonstop. He checked the clock every 2 minutes. People came in and out, but Valeria didn’t arrive. When there were 10 minutes left until 6, he thought she wasn’t coming, and his chest tightened. But just at 6 PM, the door opened, and there she was. She came alone, wearing a simple blouse and her hair in a ponytail. She wore no makeup or accessories, just herself, as he remembered. Julian stood up without saying anything. Valeria approached, sat down in front of him, and looked directly at him. “You have 15 minutes.” He nodded, sat back down, and took a breath.
“Thanks for coming.”
“I didn’t do it for you,” she said immediately. “I did it to make things clear.” Julian looked down for a second and then back at her. “I want to know if the kids are mine. I’m not here out of remorse or guilt. I’m here because I need to know the truth.”
“And if I say yes, what will you do?”
“Be there. Support them. Be part of their lives, even if you don’t want me close.” She looked at him seriously. “You can’t come back six years late and pretend everything will fit perfectly. You don’t know what this has been like: raising them alone, working two jobs, making miracles with money. And you? You didn’t even ask if I was okay. You left me with a note.”
Julian looked down again. He had no way to defend himself against that. “You’re right,” he said barely audible. “And now what? Are you going to pretend to be the remorseful dad, the man who has it all and wants to fill the void with something he abandoned?” “I’m not here to do anything. I’m here to assume whatever I have to assume. If they are mine, I want to be there—not to take them away from you, not to change their lives, just to be there.” Valeria looked at him with a mix of anger and sadness, then glanced at the kids who were already calling for her from the little store. She checked her watch. “I have to go. I work at 5.”
“Can I see you another day?” he asked, almost pleading.
“I don’t know. I don’t know if I want that. I don’t know if I want to let you back into our lives. It took us a long time to get through this.” “Just once more, a coffee, a neutral place. You choose.” She hesitated, thought for a few seconds, then pulled out her phone, opened the notes app, and wrote something down. She showed him the screen. “Tomorrow at 6 at that café. If you arrive a minute late, I’m leaving.” Julian nodded. She turned around without saying anything else, went to her kids, took their hands, and walked away as if nothing had happened. He stood there, feeling like a huge stone had been placed on his chest, but he also felt something else. There was a tiny opportunity, but it was there.
Julian couldn’t concentrate on anything for the rest of the day. He canceled a meeting with investors, ignored messages from his fiancée, and locked himself in his apartment, pacing like a caged lion with his phone in hand, checking the café address every 5 minutes as if it were going to disappear. He had the appointment with Valeria the next day, but his mind couldn’t wait. Something inside him wouldn’t let him be calm. He had to know more. He poured himself a whisky without ice, took a long sip, and sat in front of his computer. He entered his email, searched for Mateo’s direct contact, and sent a short message: “I need to know more about Valeria. Everything you find—schools for the kids, jobs, anything. Urgent.”
Not even 5 minutes passed before Mateo called him. “Are you sure, boss? This could be delicate.”
“Do it. I want to know if they are mine. I’m not going to wait for her to tell me in words.” Mateo hesitated but agreed. They hung up, and Julian stayed there, staring at the screen, his fingers trembling. He knew it wasn’t right, that he was crossing a line, but he couldn’t help it. He had that feeling in his stomach, that mix of anxiety and fear. Something inside him screamed that those kids were his. He didn’t need proof; he had seen them. It was like looking in a mirror divided into three.
He tried to sleep for a while, but it was useless. He got back on social media, again with no results. Then he searched Google for “How to know if a child is your son without official tests?” The answers were absurd. He closed everything and slumped on the couch, staring at the ceiling. The clock read 2 AM. The next day dawned with a light fog. Julian woke up early, more from nerves than habit. He showered, changed his shirt three times, and left with more than an hour to spare.
He arrived at the café, ordered a table in the corner away from the windows, and sat down with his leg moving nonstop. He checked the clock every 2 minutes. People came in and out, but Valeria didn’t arrive. When there were 10 minutes left until 6, he thought she wasn’t coming, and his chest tightened. But just at 6 PM, the door opened, and there she was. She came alone, wearing a simple blouse and her hair in a ponytail. She wore no makeup or accessories, just herself, as he remembered. Julian stood up without saying anything. Valeria approached, sat down in front of him, and looked directly at him. “You have 15 minutes.” He nodded, sat back down, and took a breath.
“Thanks for coming.”
“I didn’t do it for you,” she said immediately. “I did it to make things clear.” Julian looked down for a second and then back at her. “I want to know if the kids are mine. I’m not here out of remorse or guilt. I’m here because I need to know the truth.”
“And if I say yes, what will you do?”
“Be there. Support them. Be part of their lives, even if you don’t want me close.” She looked at him seriously. “You can’t come back six years late and pretend everything will fit perfectly. You don’t know what this has been like: raising them alone, working two jobs, making miracles with money. And you? You didn’t even ask if I was okay. You left me with a note.”
Julian looked down again. He had no way to defend himself against that. “You’re right,” he said barely audible. “And now what? Are you going to pretend to be the remorseful dad, the man who has it all and wants to fill the void with something he abandoned?” “I’m not here to do anything. I’m here to assume whatever I have to assume. If they are mine, I want to be there—not to take them away from you, not to change their lives, just to be there.” Valeria looked at him with a mix of anger and sadness, then glanced at the kids who were already calling for her from the little store. She checked her watch. “I have to go. I work at 5.”
“Can I see you another day?” he asked, almost pleading.
“I don’t know. I don’t know if I want that. I don’t know if I want to let you back into our lives. It took us a long time to get through this.” “Just once more, a coffee, a neutral place. You choose.” She hesitated, thought for a few seconds, then pulled out her phone, opened the notes app, and wrote something down. She showed him the screen. “Tomorrow at 6 at that café. If you arrive a minute late, I’m leaving.” Julian nodded. She turned around without saying anything else, went to her kids, took their hands, and walked away as if nothing had happened. He stood there, feeling like a huge stone had been placed on his chest, but he also felt something else. There was a tiny opportunity, but it was there.
Julian couldn’t concentrate on anything for the rest of the day. He canceled a meeting with investors, ignored messages from his fiancée, and locked himself in his apartment, pacing like a caged lion with his phone in hand, checking the café address every 5 minutes as if it were going to disappear. He had the appointment with Valeria the next day, but his mind couldn’t wait. Something inside him wouldn’t let him be calm. He had to know more. He poured himself a whisky without ice, took a long sip, and sat in front of his computer. He entered his email, searched for Mateo’s direct contact, and sent a short message: “I need to know more about Valeria. Everything you find—schools for the kids, jobs, anything. Urgent.”
Not even 5 minutes passed before Mateo called him. “Are you sure, boss? This could be delicate.”
“Do it. I want to know if they are mine. I’m not going to wait for her to tell me in words.” Mateo hesitated but agreed. They hung up, and Julian stayed there, staring at the screen, his fingers trembling. He knew it wasn’t right, that he was crossing a line, but he couldn’t help it. He had that feeling in his stomach, that mix of anxiety and fear. Something inside him screamed that those kids were his. He didn’t need proof; he had seen them. It was like looking in a mirror divided into three.
He tried to sleep for a while, but it was useless. He got back on social media, again with no results. Then he searched Google for “How to know if a child is your son without official tests?” The answers were absurd. He closed everything and slumped on the couch, staring at the ceiling. The clock read 2 AM. The next day dawned with a light fog. Julian woke up early, more from nerves than habit. He showered, changed his shirt three times, and left with more than an hour to spare.
He arrived at the café, ordered a table in the corner away from the windows, and sat down with his leg moving nonstop. He checked the clock every 2 minutes. People came in and out, but Valeria didn’t arrive. When there were 10 minutes left until 6, he thought she wasn’t coming, and his chest tightened. But just at 6 PM, the door opened, and there she was. She came alone, wearing a simple blouse and her hair in a ponytail. She wore no makeup or accessories, just herself, as he remembered. Julian stood up without saying anything. Valeria approached, sat down in front of him, and looked directly at him. “You have 15 minutes.” He nodded, sat back down, and took a breath.
“Thanks for coming.”
“I didn’t do it for you,” she said immediately. “I did it to make things clear.” Julian looked down for a second and then back at her. “I want to know if the kids are mine. I’m not here out of remorse or guilt. I’m here because I need to know the truth.”
“And if I say yes, what will you do?”
“Be there. Support them. Be part of their lives, even if you don’t want me close.” She looked at him seriously. “You can’t come back six years late and pretend everything will fit perfectly. You don’t know what this has been like: raising them alone, working two jobs, making miracles with money. And you? You didn’t even ask if I was okay. You left me with a note.”
Julian looked down again. He had no way to defend himself against that. “You’re right,” he said barely audible. “And now what? Are you going to pretend to be the remorseful dad, the man who has it all and wants to fill the void with something he abandoned?” “I’m not here to do anything. I’m here to assume whatever I have to assume. If they are mine, I want to be there—not to take them away from you, not to change their lives, just to be there.” Valeria looked at him with a mix of anger and sadness, then glanced at the kids who were already calling for her from the little store. She checked her watch. “I have to go. I work at 5.”
“Can I see you another day?” he asked, almost pleading.
“I don’t know. I don’t know if I want that. I don’t know if I want to let you back into our lives. It took us a long time to get through this.” “Just once more, a coffee, a neutral place. You choose.” She hesitated, thought for a few seconds, then pulled out her phone, opened the notes app, and wrote something down. She showed him the screen. “Tomorrow at 6 at that café. If you arrive a minute late, I’m leaving.” Julian nodded. She turned around without saying anything else, went to her kids, took their hands, and walked away as if nothing had happened. He stood there, feeling like a huge stone had been placed on his chest, but he also felt something else. There was a tiny opportunity, but it was there.
Julian couldn’t concentrate on anything for the rest of the day. He canceled a meeting with investors, ignored messages from his fiancée, and locked himself in his apartment, pacing like a caged lion with his phone in hand, checking the café address every 5 minutes as if it were going to disappear. He had the appointment with Valeria the next day, but his mind couldn’t wait. Something inside him wouldn’t let him be calm. He had to know more. He poured himself a whisky without ice, took a long sip, and sat in front of his computer. He entered his email, searched for Mateo’s direct contact, and sent a short message: “I need to know more about Valeria. Everything you find—schools for the kids, jobs, anything. Urgent.”
Not even 5 minutes passed before Mateo called him. “Are you sure, boss? This could be delicate.”
“Do it. I want to know if they are mine. I’m not going to wait for her to tell me in words.” Mateo hesitated but agreed. They hung up, and Julian stayed there, staring at the screen, his fingers trembling. He knew it wasn’t right, that he was crossing a line, but he couldn’t help it. He had that feeling in his stomach, that mix of anxiety and fear. Something inside him screamed that those kids were his. He didn’t need proof; he had seen them. It was like looking in a mirror divided into three.
He tried to sleep for a while, but it was useless. He got back on social media, again with no results. Then he searched Google for “How to know if a child is your son without official tests?” The answers were absurd. He closed everything and slumped on the couch, staring at the ceiling. The clock read 2 AM. The next day dawned with a light fog. Julian woke up early, more from nerves than habit. He showered, changed his shirt three times, and left with more than an hour to spare.
He arrived at the café, ordered a table in the corner away from the windows, and sat down with his leg moving nonstop. He checked the clock every 2 minutes. People came in and out, but Valeria didn’t arrive. When there were 10 minutes left until 6, he thought she wasn’t coming, and his chest tightened. But just at 6 PM, the door opened, and there she was. She came alone, wearing a simple blouse and her hair in a ponytail. She wore no makeup or accessories, just herself, as he remembered. Julian stood up without saying anything. Valeria approached, sat down in front of him, and looked directly at him. “You have 15 minutes.” He nodded, sat back down, and took a breath.
“Thanks for coming.”
“I didn’t do it for you,” she said immediately. “I did it to make things clear.” Julian looked down for a second and then back at her. “I want to know if the kids are mine. I’m not here out of remorse or guilt. I’m here because I need to know the truth.”
“And if I say yes, what will you do?”
“Be there. Support them. Be part of their lives, even if you don’t want me close.” She looked at him seriously. “You can’t come back six years late and pretend everything will fit perfectly. You don’t know what this has been like: raising them alone, working two jobs, making miracles with money. And you? You didn’t even ask if I was okay. You left me with a note.”
Julian looked down again. He had no way to defend himself against that. “You’re right,” he said barely audible. “And now what? Are you going to pretend to be the remorseful dad, the man who has it all and wants to fill the void with something he abandoned?” “I’m not here to do anything. I’m here to assume whatever I have to assume. If they are mine, I want to be there—not to take them away from you, not to change their lives, just to be there.” Valeria looked at him with a mix of anger and sadness, then glanced at the kids who were already calling for her from the little store. She checked her watch. “I have to go. I work at 5.”
“Can I see you another day?” he asked, almost pleading.
“I don’t know. I don’t know if I want that. I don’t know if I want to let you back into our lives. It took us a long time to get through this.” “Just once more, a coffee, a neutral place. You choose.” She hesitated, thought for a few seconds, then pulled out her phone, opened the notes app, and wrote something down. She showed him the screen. “Tomorrow at 6 at that café. If you arrive a minute late, I’m leaving.” Julian nodded. She turned around without saying anything else, went to her kids, took their hands, and walked away as if nothing had happened. He stood there, feeling like a huge stone had been placed on his chest, but he also felt something else. There was a tiny opportunity, but it was there.
Julian couldn’t concentrate on anything for the rest of the day. He canceled a meeting with investors, ignored messages from his fiancée, and locked himself in his apartment, pacing like a caged lion with his phone in hand, checking the café address every 5 minutes as if it were going to disappear. He had the appointment with Valeria the next day, but his mind couldn’t wait. Something inside him wouldn’t let him be calm. He had to know more. He poured himself a whisky without ice, took a long sip, and sat in front of his computer. He entered his email, searched for Mateo’s direct contact, and sent a short message: “I need to know more about Valeria. Everything you find—schools for the kids, jobs, anything. Urgent.”
Not even 5 minutes passed before Mateo called him. “Are you sure, boss? This could be delicate.”
“Do it. I want to know if they are mine. I’m not going to wait for her to tell me in words.” Mateo hesitated but agreed. They hung up, and Julian stayed there, staring at the screen, his fingers trembling. He knew it wasn’t right, that he was crossing a line, but he couldn’t help it. He had that feeling in his stomach, that mix of anxiety and fear. Something inside him screamed that those kids were his. He didn’t need proof; he had seen them. It was like looking in a mirror divided into three.
He tried to sleep for a while, but it was useless. He got back on social media, again with no results. Then he searched Google for “How to know if a child is your son without official tests?” The answers were absurd. He closed everything and slumped on the couch, staring at the ceiling. The clock read 2 AM. The next day dawned with a light fog. Julian woke up early, more from nerves than habit. He showered, changed his shirt three times, and left with more than an hour to spare.
He arrived at the café, ordered a table in the corner away from the windows, and sat down with his leg moving nonstop. He checked the clock every 2 minutes. People came in and out, but Valeria didn’t arrive. When there were 10 minutes left until 6, he thought she wasn’t coming, and his chest tightened. But just at 6 PM, the door opened, and there she was. She came alone, wearing a simple blouse and her hair in a ponytail. She wore no makeup or accessories, just herself, as he remembered. Julian stood up without saying anything. Valeria approached, sat down in front of him, and looked directly at him. “You have 15 minutes.” He nodded, sat back down, and took a breath.
“Thanks for coming.”
“I didn’t do it for you,” she said immediately. “I did it to make things clear.” Julian looked down for a second and then back at her. “I want to know if the kids are mine. I’m not here out of remorse or guilt. I’m here because I need to know the truth.”
“And if I say yes, what will you do?”
“Be there. Support them. Be part of their lives, even if you don’t want me close.” She looked at him seriously. “You can’t come back six years late and pretend everything will fit perfectly. You don’t know what this has been like: raising them alone, working two jobs, making miracles with money. And you? You didn’t even ask if I was okay. You left me with a note.”
Julian looked down again. He had no way to defend himself against that. “You’re right,” he said barely audible. “And now what? Are you going to pretend to be the remorseful dad, the man who has it all and wants to fill the void with something he abandoned?” “I’m not here to do anything. I’m here to assume whatever I have to assume. If they are mine, I want to be there—not to take them away from you, not to change their lives, just to be there.” Valeria looked at him with a mix of anger and sadness, then glanced at the kids who were already calling for her from the little store. She checked her watch. “I have to go. I work at 5.”
“Can I see you another day?” he asked, almost pleading.
“I don’t know. I don’t know if I want that. I don’t know if I want to let you back into our lives. It took us a long time to get through this.” “Just once more, a coffee, a neutral place. You choose.” She hesitated, thought for a few seconds, then pulled out her phone, opened the notes app, and wrote something down. She showed him the screen. “Tomorrow at 6 at that café. If you arrive a minute late, I’m leaving.” Julian nodded. She turned around without saying anything else, went to her kids, took their hands, and walked away as if nothing had happened. He stood there, feeling like a huge stone had been placed on his chest, but he also felt something else. There was a tiny opportunity, but it was there.
Julian couldn’t concentrate on anything for the rest of the day. He canceled a meeting with investors, ignored messages from his fiancée, and locked himself in his apartment, pacing like a caged lion with his phone in hand, checking the café address every 5 minutes as if it were going to disappear. He had the appointment with Valeria the next day, but his mind couldn’t wait. Something inside him wouldn’t let him be calm. He had to know more. He poured himself a whisky without ice, took a long sip, and sat in front of his computer. He entered his email, searched for Mateo’s direct contact, and sent a short message: “I need to know more about Valeria. Everything you find—schools for the kids, jobs, anything. Urgent.”
Not even 5 minutes passed before Mateo called him. “Are you sure, boss? This could be delicate.”
“Do it. I want to know if they are mine. I’m not going to wait for her to tell me in words.” Mateo hesitated but agreed. They hung up, and Julian stayed there, staring at the screen, his fingers trembling. He knew it wasn’t right, that he was crossing a line, but he couldn’t help it. He had that feeling in his stomach, that mix of anxiety and fear. Something inside him screamed that those kids were his. He didn’t need proof; he had seen them. It was like looking in a mirror divided into three.
He tried to sleep for a while, but it was useless. He got back on social media, again with no results. Then he searched Google for “How to know if a child is your son without official tests?” The answers were absurd. He closed everything and slumped on the couch, staring at the ceiling. The clock read 2 AM. The next day dawned with a light fog. Julian woke up early, more from nerves than habit. He showered, changed his shirt three times, and left with more than an hour to spare.
He arrived at the café, ordered a table in the corner away from the windows,
