Page 5 of The Weight of Her Silence
On weekends, they explored the city’s hidden corners—an old jazz club where the music wrapped around them like velvet, a tiny bakery with the best croissants Nate had ever tasted, a quiet garden where they carved their initials into the bark of a tree, a secret monument to their love. Every touch, every glance, every whispered confession wove them closer together.
One rainy afternoon, as they huddled under a single umbrella, Nate caught Lila’s gaze and saw a flicker of something vulnerable, something he wanted to shield from the world.
“Whatever happens,” he said, voice low and steady, “I’m here. You’re not alone.”
She nodded, eyes glistening.
“I believe you.”
For a time, they were invincible—two souls entwined, bound by a love that promised to endure any storm.
Nate blinked, the vivid colors of memory fading like mist. The warm glow of those early days was replaced by the cold, sterile light of the present. The house was silent again, empty except for shadows and the weight of loss.
He heard the faint scrape of footsteps above him.
Chapter 4
The Children’s Grief
Upstairs, Caleb sat on the edge of his bed, fists clenched tightly at his sides. His jaw was set, eyes burning with a quiet fury that simmered beneath the surface like a storm ready to break. He hated the silence. He hated the way his sister barely spoke, the way his father drifted through the house like a ghost.
Most of all, he hated that Lila was gone—and that no one seemed to know how to fix it.
Caleb’s rage wasn’t loud. It didn’t explode in tears or shouting. It simmered in clenched fists, in tightened lips, in the way he threw himself into everything—schoolwork, chores, even the jigsaw puzzles he once loved but now only barely tolerated. He glanced toward the door, hearing Ava’s soft footsteps retreat down the hall.
A bitter twist of helplessness clenched his stomach. He wanted to scream, to break something, to make the pain stop. But instead, he sat rigid and silent, a tempest locked inside a boy who was too young to carry so much grief.
Caleb pressed his back against the cool wall, his knuckles white where his fists clenched. The tightness in his chest had settled into something deeper, more permanent. He didn’t want pity, didn’t want words he couldn’t believe. He just wanted the world to stop pretending everything was okay. A soft knock at his door startled him. He didn’t answer.
The door creaked open anyway, and Ava slipped inside, her eyes swollen but stubbornly dry. She moved quietly, settling on the edge of his bed without a word. Caleb stared at the floor.
“I miss her too,” Ava said softly, voice barely more than a whisper.
He didn’t respond.
“You know,” she continued, “Dad doesn’t know what to do either. He just... shuts down.”
Caleb finally looked at her, anger flashing in his eyes.
“He never did anything before, why would he start now?”
Ava winced, biting her lip.
“That’s not fair.”
“Fair?” Caleb’s voice cracked.
“What’s fair? She’s gone, Ava. And he was never there to stop it.”
Ava reached out hesitantly, brushing a stray curl from his forehead.
“He loved her. Maybe in his own messed-up way.”
Caleb pulled away.
“Love doesn’t hurt this much if it’s real.”
The words hung between them like shards.
