Page 79 of The Weight of Her Silence
And then you acted like you had no choice.
He turned the page slowly, his eyes stinging.
But here’s the part I never told anyone—not even Nate.
There were moments when I saw the truth. Quiet moments. Slips. The way your voice softened when you said his name. The way you avoided my eyes when you asked how things were at home.
I knew.
Not everything. But enough.
And I stayed. I stayed because I was too proud to leave. Too afraid of the silence that would follow.
I told myself that maybe, just maybe, I could outlove the betrayal.
But you can’t outlove someone who’s already chosen someone else.
And you can’t outrun history.
We’re not enemies, Camille. We were never just that.
You were my friend. And you became the sharpest kind of pain.
Nate stopped.
Everything in him stilled.
The betrayal had gone deeper than he imagined. Camille hadn’t just been a mistress. She’d once been family. A sister in all but blood.
And he hadn’t seen it.
Hadn’t questioned her closeness. Her careful words. The way she’d always kept just enough distance to keep him hungry, and just enough warmth to stay near Lila, too.
He folded the letter and pressed it to his chest like it might bleed if he let go.
In the silence of the house, he could hear Lila’s voice in every word.
Clear. Unforgiving.And heartbreakingly human.
He would never stop grieving her. Not just because she was gone. But because now, finally, he was beginning to see her.
All of her.
And it was too late.
Chapter 47
The Woman I Thought I Knew
Nate didn’t call. He didn’t text. He just showed up. Camille’s apartment hadn’t changed — still sterile, still perfectly curated to hide the mess beneath. She opened the door with surprise flickering in her eyes, a slow smile crawling to her lips.
“Nate,” she said, voice warm and low, like she hadn’t shattered the lives of everyone he loved. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
He walked past her.
Camille closed the door behind him, but the soft click sounded like a trap sealing shut.
“I found her letter,” he said.
