A multimillionaire saw his ex-girlfriend, whom he had left six years earlier, waiting for an Uber with three children who looked exactly like him. What he didn’t know was that those children were Julián Castañeda. He had just left a meeting in Polanco, one of those endless meetings where everyone feels important and talks as if they were saving the world.
He just wanted to get out of there. He got into his armored SUV, gave his driver his usual instructions, and took out his cell phone to check messages as they drove down a somewhat congested street. He glanced out the window without much interest.
That’s when he saw her. There she was, standing on the sidewalk right in front of a pharmacy, looking tired and a little desperate. Her hair was hastily pulled back, she was wearing simple clothes, and she was clutching a half-torn shopping bag. Beside her were three children, all identical: same eyes, same mouth, same expression. They were looking around as if waiting for something to happen, and those eyes were his. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be. He leaned forward to get a better look, but just then another car cut in between them, and the image.
The sidewalk was crowded as always, but she wasn’t there anymore. He walked quickly through the pedestrians, searching for her, ignoring the comments of those who recognized him. His heart was pounding. It was her. It was Valeria. And those children. After a few minutes, he saw her crossing the street hand in hand with the three children, getting into a gray car that was clearly an Uber. He froze, feeling his
stomach clench. He didn’t know whether to run, scream her name, or just let her go. The car started and disappeared into the afternoon traffic. Julián didn’t move; he just stood there, watching how that scene had left him trembling. He returned to his truck almost automatically. He didn’t say anything. The driver looked at him in the rearview mirror, but Julián didn’t say a word. He was completely out of it. The only thing he could think about was those three children with the same face as him. He grabbed his forehead, closed his eyes, and let out a sigh that came from the depths of his soul. He hadn’t seen Six years have passed since that early morning when he decided to leave without saying goodbye to Valeria. He didn’t leave her a single message, nothing. They were fine, yes, but he had plans. He was about to close a deal that would change everything. He left thinking she would understand, that there would be time later to fix things, but that time never came. The car continued on its way to his apartment in Santa Fe. When he arrived, Julián angrily took off his jacket and threw it onto the sofa. He poured himself a drink, even though it wasn’t even 5 a.m. yet.
Late, he paced back and forth, remembering everything he had experienced with Valeria: her laughter, the way she gazed at him when he talked about his dreams, the way she hugged him when he came home late and just wanted to sleep. Then he thought about those children—how could they be so much like him? He picked up his phone and searched social media. Nothing, not a photo, not a clue. Valeria had vanished from the digital world as if she had never existed. This made him feel strange because he had tried to forget her, but deep down, he
never could. It was the kind of love you keep locked away in a little box you never want to open again because you know it will hurt. He sat down at his computer, opened an encrypted folder where he kept personal files, and looked for old photos. There they were: Valeria at the beach, Valeria in her apartment, Valeria with her dog, Valeria in pajamas, laughing with her mouth full of popcorn. He looked at them one by one until he came across one where she was hugging him from behind, her face pressed against his neck. She had taken the photo herself
with her phone. He stared at it for a long time and then pursed his lips. He knew what he had to do. Julián called his assistant, Mateo. “I need you to find someone. Her name is Valeria Ortega. I don’t have an address. I only know she lives in Mexico City and has three children. And one more thing: could those children be mine?” There was an awkward silence on the other end of the line. “Understood, sir,” Mateo said. He hung up and stared out the window at the city—thousands of lights, thousands of people. But at that moment, only one mattered to him. He didn’t know if she was angry, if she hated him, or if she had simply moved on. But he couldn’t leave those children like this. He couldn’t live with the doubt because if they were what he thought, then his life was about to change completely. The next morning, he woke up with only one thing on his mind: to find her. And this time, he wasn’t going to leave without answers. Julián didn’t sleep well that night. He tossed and turned, stared at the ceiling, then got up, walked around the apartment, threw himself back down on the sheets, closed his eyes, and saw that scene again: Valeria standing in the street with her three children, so similar to
him that it even hurt. It was as if his past had suddenly returned without warning. He would have slapped her right in the face the next day. Before 8 a.m., he was already in his office. His team greeted him as always, respectfully, with forced smiles. He barely responded. He went straight to his office, closed the door, and stared out the window. The whole city continued with its routine: cars, people, noise, but inside, everything was chaos. He sat down at his desk, grabbed his cell phone, and started checking social media again. He searched for his name, his face.
There was no trace of Valeria, not on Facebook, not on Instagram, not anywhere. It was as if she had vanished into thin air. That only made him angrier. How could someone disappear so easily? How could he, with all his resources, have no idea about anything? Mateo arrived with coffee and some papers. Julián barely looked at him. “Something?” he asked bluntly. “Not yet, boss.
We’re tracking her down using birth certificates and school records. But if she changed her address and last name, it’s going to take a while.” Julián nodded. He wasn’t in the mood for conversation. When Mateo left, he was alone again.
He rested his elbows on the desk, grabbed his head with both hands, and closed his eyes. Memories began to flood back, as if someone were showing him a movie. He saw himself six years earlier, younger, less tired, with that ambition that practically oozed from his pores. At that time, he and Valeria lived together in a small apartment in Narbarte. They didn’t have luxuries, but they had everything they needed. He worked from home, putting together presentations, looking for investors, trying to launch his first company. She was a preschool teacher. She would arrive exhausted, but always with a smile.
They would laugh. They’d order pizza at night for silly things, sometimes they couldn’t afford gas, and they’d shower with cold water, but they were together, and that was enough back then. But then an opportunity arose: a foreign fund wanted to invest in his project, but he had to move to Monterrey for a year. That’s when everything changed. He asked her to come with him, but she said she couldn’t leave her job, her students, everything she had. They argued many times, each argument growing louder, until one early morning, without a word, he grabbed his backpack, his
laptop, a few papers, and left.
He left her a silly note that said, “I’m sorry, I can’t stay.” That’s how cowardly he was. He never heard from her again. He thought about writing to her several times, but he always put it off. Then his company exploded.