Page 59 of The Weight of Her Silence
Silence. Thick. Brutal.
Then her voice, low and broken.
“You’ll regret this.”
He looked at her for the last time.
“I already do.”
And with that, he turned and left—closing the door behind him before he could hear her sobs break open.
???
The house was quiet, but not heavy. It was the kind of silence that came with soft footsteps and whispered laughter—the rustle of a blanket being tucked around Lila’s legs as she settled onto the couch, a tray of warm tea and toast balanced in Ava’s hands while Caleb arranged a stack of her favorite books on the coffee table.
Lila leaned back, a pale smile gracing her lips.
“You two act like I’m the queen.”
“You are,” Caleb said, not looking up from the books.
“And queens don’t make their own tea,” Ava added, gently placing the tray down.
Lila chuckled. It made her chest ache.
They’d been doing this since she came home from her latest hospital visit—hovering, helping, avoiding certain words. The word cancer had only been spoken once in the house since the diagnosis.
They didn’t need to repeat it. It hung in every silence, every softened look. Ava’s eyes were no longer sharp with suspicion—they were protective now, fiercely so.
Caleb still avoided asking questions, but he stayed closer than ever before.
This was their rhythm now: quiet days, slow mornings, little joys wrapped in tender acts of care. Lila didn’t have the energy to argue or resist.
She let herself be mothered by her daughter. Let herself be protected by her son.
She let herself enjoy it, even as her body reminded her not to.
The front door opened.
Nate.
He stepped into the room slowly, eyes drinking in the sight of the three of them huddled together in a moment he hadn’t earned.
Ava stiffened immediately.
Caleb went still.
But Lila looked up, calm. “Hi.”
Nate swallowed. His voice came rough.
“Can I... stay a while?”
Ava said nothing.
Caleb didn’t move.
Lila met her daughter’s gaze and gave the slightest nod.
