“Here,” he pointed. “This structure… appears to be a tubal ligation. But not a conventional one. These look like small implants that block the fallopian tubes. It’s a newer technique. It’s done in an operating room with sedation, and it certainly doesn’t go unnoticed by the patient.”

I felt the blood drain from my face.

“I’ve never…” My voice failed me.

I remembered every time Diego and I had talked about having children “later.” When the clinic was doing better. When I got promoted at the law firm. When…

There was always a later.

“Have you had any gynecological procedures in the last few years?” Álvaro asked carefully. “Any sedation, any ‘minor’ procedure in your husband’s clinic perhaps?”

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

I had gone to see Diego at his clinic in Salamanca. He had complained that he had very few patients that day.

“Perfect,” he said with a smile. “I’ll give you a full checkup since I never have time with you.”

I remembered the smell of disinfectant. The metallic shine of instruments. I remembered him offering me a mild sedative because I was tense from work.

I remembered waking up slightly dizzy with a mild abdominal pain that he blamed on “the examination.”

Then we went out to dinner as if nothing had happened.

The nausea twisted into a knot of quiet fury.

“There was one time…” I began. “He sedated me. Said it was just for a deeper exam.”

Álvaro closed his eyes briefly, as if confirming something he had feared.

“Lucía, what I’m about to tell you is very serious. This type of procedure… is sterilization. You cannot become pregnant naturally with this. And if you don’t remember it and never signed consent, then we’re talking about something completely illegal.”

The word sterilization struck my mind like a stone.

I stared at him, waiting for him to take it back, to say it was a mistake, that the machine was wrong.

But he didn’t look away.

“I want a second opinion,” I finally said, my voice now cold and thin. “And I want a written report. Detailed. With all the images.”

“Of course,” he replied immediately. “I’ll prepare a full report. And Lucía…” he leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice, “I know this is very hard, but you should consider filing a complaint. This isn’t just unethical. It’s a crime.”

I left the health center feeling as if the sidewalks had tilted slightly, forcing me to walk at an angle.