They thought I wasn’t home.
“Maria mustn’t suspect anything! Be careful, my darling,” my mother-in-law, Elaine, whispered to my husband, Jeff. Her voice was low, secretive.
I froze mid-step in the hallway, clutching my bag. I had come home early from what should’ve been a long doctor’s appointment, slipping in through the back door to avoid the neighbor’s yappy dog. Their hushed conversation sent a chill down my spine.
What are they hiding from me?
I had enough on my plate without added secrets. For six grueling months, I’d been battling cancer, enduring chemo that left me drained and afraid. Each night, as I drifted to sleep, I wondered if I’d wake up to see my son Jaden’s smile again. The thought that Jeff and Elaine were keeping something from me felt like betrayal.
For a brief moment, I considered confronting them. But I didn’t. Instead, I forced a smile, walked into the living room, and greeted them as though nothing had happened.
“Hi,” I said.
Jeff’s eyes softened as he smiled back, but tension lingered in his shoulders. Elaine, pretending to do her crossword puzzle, barely glanced up.
