Page 26 of The Weight of Her Silence
The walls in the doctor’s office were a pale shade of beige—meant to be soothing, she supposed. But all she could think about was how cold everything felt. The room. The air. Her hands.
Dr. Morrow sat across from her, eyes gentle, fingers folded in that careful, rehearsed way doctors use when they're about to deliver a blow.
Lila already knew. She’d known before the bloodwork. Before the ultrasound. Before the biopsy. The fatigue hadn’t gone away. The pain had spread.
Her skin had taken on a gray hue no amount of makeup could cover anymore.Still, hearing the words made something in her chest cave in.
"Stage four ovarian cancer. We caught it mid-progression, but it’s aggressive. We need to begin treatment immediately."
The doctor kept talking—about chemotherapy, schedules, referrals, statistics—but the words slid past her like static. She nodded when she was supposed to. Asked the questionsshe knew were expected. But all she could think about was Ava. Caleb.
And Nate.
Not because she needed him. Not anymore. But because she didn’t know if she wanted him to carry this truth. Not when he already looked like a man buried in other sins.
Later that night, she sat on the edge of the bathtub, her arms wrapped around herself, holding in the tears that tried to rise. She didn’t tell him when he came home.
Didn’t ask where he’d been. Didn’t say a word when he slipped into the shower, humming softly to himself like nothing had changed.
Because maybe, for him, it hadn’t. Maybe, the woman who had once been the center of his world had already faded to the background.
So instead of telling him she was sick, Lila buried the papers deep in the bottom of her dresser drawer. She would tell him eventually. But not today. Not like this.
Nate
Camille met him at the hotel this time. He wasn’t sure why he’d said yes. He’d wanted to cancel. His chest still felt tight from the moment he walked through the door and saw Lila’s empty eyes.
But Camille had texted, her messages soft, seductive, familiar.
"You sound like you need me tonight."
And maybe he did. Need her. Want her. Or maybe he was just too far gone to remember who he used to be.
Camille was already in bed when he arrived, the room lit by a single golden lamp that cast warm shadows across her bare skin.
“Rough day?” she murmured, pulling him close by the collar.
He didn’t answer. She didn’t need him to. The sex that night was quieter—less frantic than usual—but no less intense. Camille moved over him like a whisper, her hands claiming parts of him he no longer remembered giving away.
And afterward, when they lay tangled in sheets, her head resting on his chest, Nate stared at the ceiling. A single thought pulsed through him like a wound:He didn’t deserve Lila’s love.
Didn’t deserve her silence, her softness, her slow fading presence in that house he called home. But he also couldn’t stop.
Not yet.
Lila
She tucked Caleb into bed. Kissed Ava’s forehead, even though her daughter flinched like she didn’t want the closeness. She returned to her own room, undressed slowly, and crawled into a bed that had not held her husband for two nights.
Her hand touched the empty pillow beside her. Still warm from earlier. She imagined him there. Once. Before everything cracked and hollowed out.
She didn’t cry.
She simply closed her eyes. And began to count the days—not how many she had left. But how many more she could carry this alone.
Chapter 23
The Woman Who Wasn’t His Wife
