He lifted the corner of the blanket and froze. On the tiny shoulder of the baby was a birthmark. Exactly like his own. In the same spot.

— God… — his voice broke. — He has my birthmark. Is this my son?

She covered her face with her hands. Her shoulders shook. And finally, she whispered barely audibly:

— Yes. It’s your child.

— Why did you stay silent? Why did you just disappear? — he spoke softly, but every word carried pain.

She raised her tear-filled eyes.

— I found out I was pregnant almost immediately before I left. I knew that for you, medicine always came first.