Sergeant Miguel Mendoza had spent decades serving his country, believing in values like respect, integrity, and protection of the vulnerable. As he stood in the hallway, his heart ached with disappointment and anger. He had seen his son grow up and had taught him to be a man of honor. What he witnessed just now was a betrayal of everything he stood for.

Miguel Mendoza was not a man to act impulsively; his years in the military had taught him the importance of strategy and timing. He took a deep breath, composed himself, and walked toward the nurse’s station, determination in his stride.

Inside Room 212, Nurse Sofía was comforting Camila, her presence a temporary shield against Ricardo’s looming figure. The baby had finally quieted, sensing the change in the room’s energy. Ricardo, aware of the scrutiny, shifted uncomfortably, his facade of innocence slipping slightly.

“I’m going to step out for a moment,” Sofía said gently to Camila, who nodded, still too overwhelmed to speak. The nurse exited the room and found Sergeant Mendoza waiting.

“Sir, I’m… I’m so sorry you had to see that,” Sofía began, unsure of how much he had witnessed.

Miguel nodded solemnly. “I saw enough,” he replied. “Thank you for standing up for her. My son needs to understand—actions have consequences.”

Sofía, sensing Miguel’s resolve, felt a glimmer of hope. “What do you plan to do?” she asked.

Miguel’s expression was resolute. “I’m going to speak with my son. But first, I need to make sure Camila knows she is not alone.”

Together, they re-entered the room. Ricardo, who had taken a seat near the window, looked up, surprise flashing across his face as he saw his father.

“Papá, what are you doing here?” he asked, trying to mask his unease with a casual tone.

Miguel approached the be

d, looking at Camila with gentle eyes. “How are you feeling, dear?” he asked softly, ignoring Ricardo’s question.

Camila hesitated, then nodded slightly. “I’m fine,” she whispered, though her voice betrayed her exhaustion and emotional turmoil.

Miguel turned to his son, his expression hardening. “Ricardo, we need to talk. Outside.”

Ricardo stood, defiance mixed with apprehension in his eyes. “About what, Papá? It’s not what you think.”

“I know exactly what I saw,” Miguel interrupted, his voice calm but firm. “This is not how I raised you, Ricardo.”

The room was silent for a moment, the air thick with tension.

“I’ll be back soon,” Ricardo muttered to Camila, attempting to reclaim authority. But his father’s presence had already shifted the power dynamic.

In the hallway, Miguel faced his son, his gaze unwavering. “This stops now, Ricardo. You have a family—a wife, a child. They need your love and support, not your anger. If you can’t control yourself, there will be consequences.”

Ricardo opened his mouth to argue but found himself without words. The weight of his father’s disappointment was heavier than anything he had anticipated.

Back in the room, Nurse Sofía sat by Camila’s side, offering quiet companionship. “You’re not alone,” she said gently. “There are people who care about you.”

Camila looked at the nurse, her eyes reflecting a mix of gratitude and fear. “Thank you,” she managed, her voice stronger than before.

As Miguel and Ricardo continued their conversation in the hallway, a new resolve began to grow within Camila. She realized that she had a choice, a voice, and that, perhaps, this was the beginning of a different future—not just for her, but for her son as well.