I saw only blurry shapes.

But I saw Doctor Serrano’s face suddenly tighten, as if an invisible boundary had been crossed.

His gaze remained fixed, unmoving and incredulous, on a point in the image. His fingers continued to rest on the controls of the ultrasound machine.

‘My God…’ he whispered.

‘What is going on?’ I pressed, as fear mingled with sudden nausea.

He took a deep breath and turned to me with a completely serious look.

“Lucía, there is something here that… looks like a previous surgical procedure. One that, according to your medical history, you have never had. And the type of procedure I see… is never performed without express consent.”

With trembling hands, I got dressed. The paper on the examination table crunched under my steps like dry leaves. The nurse slipped away quietly, leaving us alone in the room.

Álvaro offered me a seat at his desk. For a few seconds, we said nothing. Only the sound of the elevator in the building broke the silence.

‘Explain it,’ I said finally.

He turned the computer screen towards me. The ultrasound images were displayed in grayscale, with small measurement marks.

‘Look,’ he pointed. ‘This structure… looks like a sterilization. But not in the usual way. They look like small implants that block the fallopian tubes. It is a newer technique. It is performed in an operating room under sedation, and the patient certainly feels something.’

I felt the blood drain from my face.

‘I have never…’ My voice failed me.

I remember all the times Diego and I had talked about having children “later.” When things were going better at the clinic. When I got a promotion at the law firm. When…

There was always a later moment.

‘Have you undergone any gynecological procedures in recent years?’ Álvaro asked cautiously. ‘Under sedation, perhaps a ‘minor’ procedure at your husband’s clinic?’

My memory returned to a Friday afternoon a year and a half ago.

I had gone to Diego’s clinic in Salamanca. He had complained that he had very few patients that day.

‘Perfect,’ he said with a smile. ‘I will give you full control, since I never have time for you.’

I remembered the smell of disinfectant. The metallic sheen of instruments. I remembered that he offered me a mild sedative because I was tense from my work.

I remember waking up slightly dizzy with a bit of stomach pain, which he attributed to “the examination”.

Afterwards, we went out to eat as if nothing had happened.