Page 71 of The Weight of Her Silence
Panic.
Because for the first time, Camille felt it—deep, bone-shaking fear.
She hadn’t just lost control of the situation. She had lost Nate.
And the woman he had betrayed—the one who should’ve been defeated, diminished, broken—had somehow emerged with more power in silence than Camille had ever wielded in noise.
Lila had said nothing cruel. Hadn't raised her voice.
And yet, Camille couldn’t stop hearing her final words.
“He was yours in secret. But he was mine in the light.”
Chapter 43
When the Light Gave Way
The house was unusually still that morning. Not the peaceful kind of stillness. The kind that trembles at the edges of things, as if even the air knows something is ending.
Lila woke early, though she hadn’t really slept. The pain had become a companion now—soft and dull in some places, sharp and cruel in others. But it wasn’t the pain that made her restless. It was the knowing. The quiet certainty humming in her chest.
It was time.
She rose slowly, carefully, and pulled on her soft blue robe—the one Nate had given her years ago, back when they still took weekend trips and whispered in the dark like newlyweds. It still smelled like lavender and cedarwood.
Ava was the first to stir. She found Lila in the kitchen, trying to hold a glass of water with unsteady hands.
“Mom—” Ava rushed to her side.
Lila gave her a tired smile. “I’m alright, sweetheart.”
But she wasn’t. Ava could see it. Her mother’s skin looked thinner, her frame almost fragile now. But her eyes—those same warm, soft eyes—still carried strength. Still carried love.
They spent the morning in the sunroom, the three of them—Lila, Ava, and Caleb. He curled into her side with his comic book, and she held him as long as her arms would let her. Ava painted Lila’s nails a pale pink and braided flowers into her hair from the garden.
There was laughter. Soft stories. Caleb fell asleep on her lap at one point, and Lila simply stroked his hair, not daring to move.
She kept looking at them—drinking them in. Committing every glance, every smile, every dimple and crooked expression to memory.
In the early afternoon, she asked them both gently, “Can you give me some time alone with your dad?”
Caleb looked up at her, eyes filled with an unspoken worry he couldn’t quite name. Ava hesitated too, but nodded.
“I’ll be right outside,” she said quietly.
When they left, the house fell into that deep, knowing stillness again.
Nate stepped in a few minutes later.
He looked like he hadn’t slept either. There were shadows under his eyes, and grief in the slump of his shoulders, but he came to her like he always should have—gently, like she was something precious.
He knelt beside her chair, his hand reaching for hers without a word.
“I didn’t want to go without seeing you again,” she whispered.
“You’re not going anywhere yet.”
She smiled at that. “You don’t have to pretend anymore, Nate. I know.”
