Page 68 of The Weight of Her Silence
Lila turned then, slowly, her body frail but her eyes steady. “You and I haven’t spoken—not really—in years.”
“I know,” Nate said softly. His throat tightened at the sight of her. She looked so small. So tired. But still more beautifulthan he remembered her being in the years he spent looking elsewhere.
“I always wondered,” she continued. “What version of me did you stop loving?”
His mouth opened. Closed.
“I’m not asking to punish you,” she said. “I just want to know.”
He swallowed hard. “It wasn’t you, Lila. It was me. That sounds like a line, I know. But I mean it. I was... lost. Overwhelmed. You were everything. And I—I felt small next to you. Like I wasn’t enough.”
Her laugh was bitter and fragile. “So you found someone who made you feel big.”
His eyes watered. “I think I found someone who let me run away from the truth. That I was failing you. That you deserved better. I didn’t want to face how much I hated the man I was becoming.”
Lila sat down across from him, the effort it took making her breath catch. “I always knew,” she said quietly. “About the affair. Maybe not all the details. But I knew long before I let myself say it out loud. My body was breaking, and so was our marriage. And I still hoped... that maybe you'd come back.”
“I never left you,” Nate whispered. “I was just... not strong enough to be what you needed.”
“You were never supposed to be perfect,” she said. “You were just supposed to be honest. To choose me. And you didn’t.”
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes pleading. “I would take it all back. I’d give anything, Lila.”
Her eyes glossed over. “I know. But you can’t.”
Silence fell again. Not angry. Not bitter. Just quiet and heartbreaking.
“I’m dying, Nate,” she said. Her voice was clear, without drama. “And I don’t have the energy to carry our brokenness anymore.”
“I know,” he whispered. His voice cracked. “And I hate that I wasted so much time. That you were in pain—alone. That I wasn’t there.”
She gave him a tired smile. “You were there, Nate. Just not where it mattered.”
“I’m sorry,” he choked out. “For all of it. For her. For the years. For what I did to our family.”
Tears slipped silently down her cheeks. She didn’t brush them away. “I forgive you,” she said. “But it doesn’t change the ending.”
He reached for her hand. This time, she let him take it. Her fingers were thin and cold, but she didn’t pull away.
“You were my first love,” she said. “You gave me Ava. Caleb. A home. Not everything was broken. Some of it was beautiful.”
His chest caved around the grief. “I don’t deserve your grace.”
“No,” she agreed softly. “But I’m not carrying bitterness into what little time I have left. That’s yours to carry.”
They sat in silence, hand in hand. The years that had aged them, fractured them, had also brought them to this—two people who had once loved, finally letting each other go.
Lila gently pulled her hand free. “I’m tired.”
“I’ll stay,” he said.
She nodded. “But no more pretending, Nate. Let it be what it is.”
“Okay.”
She stood slowly, pausing at the base of the stairs. “Goodnight.”
Nate remained in the chair long after she left the room. Alone with the echo of everything they’d said—and everything they never could.
