It wasn’t the neutral professional expression I was used to. It was discomfort. Or surprise. Or something worse.

“Who treated you before?” he asked again, his voice deeper now.

I swallowed.

“My husband,” I said. “Diego López. He’s a gynecologist too.”

Álvaro froze. He removed his gloves slowly, almost deliberately, and tossed them into the metal trash bin with a dry sound that made me jump slightly. Then he walked to his desk without looking directly at me.

“Lucía,” he finally said, using my first name for the first time, “we need to run tests right now. What I’m seeing… shouldn’t be there.”

The air suddenly felt heavy around me. I sat up slightly on the exam table, still covered by the paper gown.

“What do you mean?” I asked, my voice sharper than usual.

He avoided answering directly. He pressed the buzzer to call the nurse, opened the ultrasound screen, and began preparing the equipment. His hands moved quickly, but his eyes remained tense and alert.

“We’re going to do a transvaginal ultrasound right now,” he announced, trying to sound routine. “I just… need to confirm something.”

The door opened, the nurse entered, and cold gel touched my skin. On the screen, gray shapes appeared—patterns that would make sense to someone trained to read them.

Not to me.

I only saw blurred forms.

But I saw Dr. Serrano’s face suddenly harden, as if an invisible line had been crossed.

His gaze fixed on a point in the image, unmoving, incredulous. His fingers stopped on the ultrasound controls.

“My God…” he whispered.

“What’s wrong?” I insisted, now feeling terror mixing with sudden nausea.

He took a deep breath and turned toward me with complete seriousness.

“Lucía, there’s something here that… looks like a previous surgical procedure. One that, according to your medical history, you never had. And the type of procedure I’m seeing… is never done without very clear consent.”

I dressed with trembling hands. The paper on the exam table crinkled under my steps like dry leaves. The nurse slipped out quietly, leaving us alone in the office.

Álvaro offered me a seat in front of his desk. For several seconds neither of us spoke. Only the distant sound of the building’s elevator filled the silence.

“Explain,” I finally said.

He turned the computer screen toward me. The ultrasound images were frozen in gray tones with small measurement markers.