Page 58 of The Weight of Her Silence
Cut the Tether
Nate stood outside her door for a full minute before knocking. His reflection in the brass numbers on Camille’s apartment door stared back at him like a man he didn’t recognize. Tired. Hollow. Worn down by the weight of his own choices.
When the door opened, she was already crying.
“Nate.” Her voice cracked. “You finally—”
He stepped inside, brushing past her without meeting her eyes.
“Don’t,” he said quietly.
“Please. Just let me talk.”
Camille’s breath hitched. She closed the door behind him, the soft click like a prison cell locking shut.
He didn’t sit.
Didn’t touch her.
Just stood there in the center of the living room, eyes scanning the familiar space—the wine glasses on the counter, the framed photo of them she wasn’t supposed to keep, the shirt he’d once left folded on her couch.
It all made him sick now.
“I can’t do this anymore,” he said.
She froze. “What?”
“This,” he repeated, firmer now. “Us.”
Camille blinked like she hadn’t heard him. “Because she’s dying?”
“No,” Nate said, though the word felt like a lie. “Because I’ve lied to myself long enough. I’ve lied to you.”
She shook her head, stepping closer. “Don’t do this.
Don’t let guilt make you run.”
“I’m not running.” He looked her in the eye now. “I’m waking up.”
She reached for his hand. “Nate—”
He flinched back. “Don’t.”
Camille’s voice turned sharp. “So that’s it? After ten years?”
His mouth was dry. “I never should’ve let it go that far. You and I... this wasn’t love. It was escape.”
Her expression twisted. “You came to me. You always came back.”
“I know,” he said. “And I’m sorry. I used you. I let you believe I’d leave her. I told you things I shouldn’t have.”
“But you meant them.”
“Maybe in the moment. But the truth is... I don’t even know what I meant anymore.”
Camille’s arms dropped to her sides, fists clenched. “So what happens now? You just pretend I never existed?”
“No,” he said quietly. “I’ll live with it. Every day. But I can’t come back here.”
