Page 49 of Please, Forgive Me
MARIA GABRIELA
By Sunday morning, we were already on his private jet. The clouds drifted lazily past the window, but my stomach was more turbulent than ever.
I sat there trying to keep my composure while Diego, as usual, sat beside me. He glanced at me from the corner of hiseye, his expression stern—a mix of concern and something I couldn’t quite read.
“You’re seeing a doctor as soon as we land,” he said flatly. “Even if it means missing work on Monday.”
It wasn’t a suggestion. It was an order.
His voice was low and firm—the kind of tone he used when something mattered too much for him to accept excuses.
I looked at him, caught off guard by the intensity. He wasn’t just worried; there was something else there—something that made me feel like I was completely under his control. His gaze cut right through me, steady and unrelenting. And no matter how much I wanted to push back, I knew it was pointless to argue.
I nodded, doing my best to hide the unease twisting inside me.
“I’ll see a doctor as soon as I get the chance,” I said, forcing a smile I knew wasn’t convincing anyone.
In truth, I already had another plan. Before any appointment, I was going to take a pregnancy test. Even if the chances were small, that feeling in my stomach… I needed to know for sure.
Diego kept watching me, his seriousness unwavering. It was as if my answer wasn’t enough, as if he needed more—some kind of reassurance.
I couldn’t tell if it came from genuine concern or from that old possessive instinct of his. He’d always needed to control everything. And now, maybe I was right at the center of that need.
The silence between us was heavy, the tension thick enough to feel in the air. I needed to get out of that suffocating energy—shift the focus, somehow.
“So,” I said, forcing a lighter tone, “at least the meeting was a success. The investors seemed pretty happy with the proposals.”
Diego’s gaze lingered on me for a few more seconds, as if debating whether to go back to the subject of my health or let it drop. Finally, he sighed and crossed his arms.
“Yes, they’re satisfied,” he said, but his voice was distant.
That wasn’t satisfaction. That was distraction. He was still thinking about me—about what was going on with me. And the fact that I couldn’t give him the reassurance he wanted made me even more anxious.
I tried again, desperate to escape the gravity he put into everything.
“And São Paulo... do you think we’ll be able to close that deal with the other telecom company?” I asked, keeping my voice as casual as possible.
But nothing I said seemed to work.
He turned his face toward me, his dark eyes studying me for a moment that lasted too long. The tension was written all over him. Diego rarely showed worry so openly, but I could tell this was affecting him more than he wanted to admit—maybe even more than he understood.
“Maria Gabriela,” he said finally, his tone serious again. “Don’t try to distract me. I want you to take care of this—whatever it is. And soon.”
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to stay calm. He was pressing me, but at the same time, there was something else behind his insistence—something I couldn’t name.
“I will, Diego,” I said again, trying not to sound shaken by how intensely he was handling it.
My mind wandered back to the possibility of pregnancy, and fear clawed at my chest. I didn’t want to consider it, but my body wasn’t giving me a choice.
Diego had no idea what was running through my mind. And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop thinking that if that were really the case… everything between us would change forever.
The flight continued in tense silence, and I knew this calm was only temporary—a quiet before the storm.
He was still waiting for answers.
And I was drowning in questions.
The moment the jet landed and I had a chance, I’d take the test. Even if it seemed unlikely, I needed the truth before anything else. My body was trying to tell me something, and I had to find out what it was.
