Page 32 of The Weight of Her Silence
Caleb didn’t flinch—but he didn’t smile either.
“Where were you last night?” Caleb asked without looking up.
Nate blinked.
“I was working late,” he said, reaching for a coffee mug.
Caleb finally looked at him.
“You wore the gray shirt.”
“Yeah, so?”
“You said you had meetings all day,” Caleb said quietly.
“But you didn’t bring your briefcase home. And your shirt was different when you came back.”
Nate froze mid-pour.
“I must’ve changed at the office,” he offered, a little too fast.
Caleb said nothing.
But in his silence, Nate heard everything.
The boy’s trust—a fragile thing—fractured a little more. It hadn’t broken yet. But it was close.
“I’m just tired, Caleb,” Nate said, rubbing his face.
“You know things are… hard right now.”
“Is it hard to tell the truth?”
That stung.
Nate opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Tried again.
“You’re a kid. You don’t understand everything yet.”
“I understand when someone’s lying,” Caleb said, getting up from the stool.
“And I know Mom's sick, even if you keep pretending she isn’t.”
He left the kitchen, footsteps quiet, shoulders stiff.
Nate stood there in the silence, staring into his untouched coffee. Guilt burned hotter than caffeine ever could.
He was losing his son.
Not just Lila.
Not just himself. All of it.
Lila
