The Insult That Broke the Hospital Silence

The hospital room smelled of mild disinfectant and fresh flowers. I was still weak after giving birth, lying in bed, holding my newborn son, Lucas, against my chest. His breathing was calm, his tiny fingers clinging to mine. At that moment, I believed everything would be different. That the world would be kinder now.

I was wrong.

My brother Adrian arrived that same afternoon. He wore an expensive, immaculate coat, as if he’d stepped out of a magazine. He stopped at the foot of the bed and looked at the baby with a forced smile.

“So this is my nephew?” he asked, nodding his chin.

I nodded, trying to sound happy.

“He’s your nephew.”

Adrián let out a short, dry laugh.