Chapter 13: The Breaking Point
It happened on a rainy Thursday night.
Ryan came home from work looking tired. He poured himself a drink and sat down on the couch. I was in the kitchen, pretending to wash dishes that were already clean.
After a while, he spoke.
“I’ve been thinking about Mom a lot lately,” he said. “About how she died.”
My hands froze under the running water.
“What about it?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
Ryan was quiet for a few seconds.
“The doctors never really figured out what was wrong with her. They said it was some kind of degenerative condition, but they couldn’t explain why it happened so fast. It doesn’t make sense.”
I turned off the tap and dried my hands, buying time.
“Sometimes these things just happen,” I said. “Especially at her age.”
Ryan looked at me.
“I know. But… I keep thinking about those last few months. She seemed scared. She kept trying to tell me something, but she couldn’t get the words out. It was like she was afraid of something. Or someone.”
He paused.
“Sometimes I wonder if she was trying to tell me something about you.”
The room suddenly felt too small.
I forced myself to stay calm.
“Ryan, your mother was very sick. Her mind wasn’t clear at the end. She probably didn’t know what she was saying.”
Ryan studied me for a long moment.
Then he nodded slowly.
“Yeah,” he said. “You’re probably right.”
But I could tell he wasn’t convinced.
That night, I barely slept.
For the first time since Linda’s death, I felt real fear.
Not fear of being caught by the police.
Fear of being caught by Ryan.
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Because if he ever looked too closely… if he ever started digging… he might find something.
And if that happened, everything I had done would be for nothing.
