Chapter 37
Cut the Tether
N ate 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.”
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.
Ava stood up, arms crossed. “Don’t make this harder, Dad.”
“I won’t,” Nate said quickly. “I just want to help. Be useful.”
“You had years to be useful.”
Lila touched her daughter’s hand gently.
“Let him sit, sweetheart.”
Ava’s jaw clenched, but she backed away, curling into the opposite corner of the couch.
Nate lowered himself to the floor near Lila’s feet like a man begging to be near a fire he’d nearly extinguished. He looked up at her, unsure where to begin.
“I broke things,” he said, voice low.
Lila gave a tired smile. “You can’t fix them tonight.”
“I know,” he whispered. “But I want to show up. Every day. If you’ll let me.”
Lila didn’t answer immediately.
“Don’t promise me forever, Nate. Just... promise to be present.”
His throat worked as he nodded. “I will.”
Caleb finally spoke, quiet but firm. “Mom doesn’t need more lies.”
Nate’s eyes burned. “No more lies.”
Silence stretched again. This one different. Not forgiving—but not closing the door.
Lila leaned her head against the back cushion, closing her eyes.
And for a moment, with Ava curled beside her, Caleb flipping pages at her feet, and Nate sitting in his shame and longing—it almost felt like a family again.
A broken, hurting one. But still together.
Still trying.