The smoke from the cigarette that Lucas holds between his lips accentuates his sharp features, making him look even colder than usual. Everyone bows to him in respect as he walks to his car, ready to once again leave behind the bloody mafia life he had taken over.

As usual, his subordinates don't even dare to raise their heads to watch him leave; but on that particular day Lucas' presence emanated a more dangerous essence. But how could it not? Today is his birthday.

His damn birthday.He could even see the grey hairs in his brown hair, even though his partner told him it was just his imagination. Today was not a happy day. His birthdays were never happy because they take him into a spiral of regrets and bad memories that hide in the depths of his memory; but they decide to come to light making him shiver.

Because although Lucas could bury deep within himself everything that was hurting him from being the trustworthy leader that he is, sometimes he couldn't avoid having the image of his mother projected into his memory, with a shabby cake in her hands and a smile that was crumbling like the foundations of their home.

"Honey, I'm home," Lucas says as he walks through the door, expecting to see you. "I got blood on my shirt... again."

A small smile crosses his face when he doesn't see you, and thinks you'll be sleeping. He approaches the bedroom, and as he opens the door, a burst of confetti explodes in his face, making him laugh.

"I told you it wasn't necessary," Lucas says when he sees a small cake next to a present. "Is it for me?"

And when you nod, Lucas can't help but be curious; because even though he doesn't like his birthdays, he loves it when his wife has a smile on your face every time you surprise him. So, without waiting, he opens the gift.

"Am I going to be a father?" he asks when he sees baby clothes inside the gift. The baby that is forming in your womb and that is his birthday present.

Lucas cried at every birthday when he was a kid, and now, he's crying again.