Page 45 of The Weight of Her Silence
“Caleb, get Dad. Now!”
He bolted from the room.
Ava pressed her cheek to her mother’s chest, trying to feel for breath, heartbeat—anything.
“Please, please, don’t do this. Stay with me.”
Lila stirred faintly, eyelids fluttering.
“Ava…”
“I’m here. I’m right here.”
Nate’s voice thundered down the hallway.
“Lila?”
He came into the kitchen, phone already at his ear, panic etched deep into his face.
“—Yes, my wife just collapsed—she’s breathing but barely—no, no known conditions—just hurry, please.”
Ava didn’t let go of Lila’s hand. Not when the paramedics came. Not even when they lifted her mother onto the stretcher and wheeled her away.
She sat beside Caleb in the waiting room hours later, her fingers still curled into fists, her ears ringing with the image of her mother’s body on the cold tile floor.
“What’s wrong with her?” Caleb whispered.
Ava shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
But she had a feeling it wasn’t new.
Whatever had been eating at her mother had been doing it for a while.
And they had both been too late to notice.
???
The sterile hospital corridor smelled of antiseptic and quiet dread. Nate’s steps echoed hollowly as he paced, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. The harsh fluorescent lights above felt relentless, spotlighting every flaw, every crack in his composure.
He had always been the man in control—of his work, his family, even his secrets.
But now, nothing was in his control.
Not this.
Not Lila.
Ava sat rigidly in a plastic chair, her face unreadable. Caleb leaned against her, silent and tense. Neither spoke to Nate, and the cold distance between them was a punishment he deserved.
His throat tightened, words stuck in his chest.
Because this wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
Lila collapsing at home, in front of their children. The fragility of the woman he loved—or once loved—laid bare on a kitchen floor.
And all the betrayals, the lies, they felt like chains tightening around his soul.
