I closed my eyes.
“Who is she?”
He didn’t answer.
“Ethan. Who is she?”
“Can we talk about this later?”
“My mother is dying.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you doing this?”
His voice became defensive.
“I didn’t mean for you to find out like this.”
That sentence broke something inside me.
Not because of what he said.
Because of what he didn’t say.
He didn’t deny it.
He didn’t say there was a misunderstanding.
He didn’t say she was a coworker.
He simply said:
“I’m sorry.”
Then came the words I will never forget.
“Let’s not make it a big deal, okay?”
I pulled the phone away from my ear.
I stared at it.
I almost couldn’t believe I had heard him correctly.
A big deal?
My fiancé was sleeping with another woman while my mother was dying.
And he wanted me not to make it a big deal.
I didn’t scream.
I didn’t throw the phone.
I didn’t tell my mother.
I couldn’t.
I walked back into the room.
Mom was still sleeping.
I sat beside her and held her hand.
My tears finally came.
Silently.
I pressed my forehead against her blanket so she wouldn’t wake up.
That night, I learned something terrible.
You can be surrounded by people and still feel completely alone.
And the person who had promised to hold you together can sometimes be the one quietly breaking you apart.
PART TWO — THE FUNERAL
My mother died seven days later.
She passed away just before sunrise.
I was holding her hand.
My sister was on the other side of the bed.
Ethan was standing behind us.
For a few minutes, nobody spoke.
I watched my mother’s chest rise for the last time.
Then fall.
And never rise again.
I wanted to scream.
Instead, I kissed her forehead and whispered,
“I love you, Mom.”
Ethan put his hand on my shoulder.
I stepped away from him.
He looked at me.