Lila didn't say anything.
The question hung in the room Is it because of me? and the silence was answer enough. They both felt it.
"Ma," Lila said, her voice cautious. "Don't—"
"Tell me."
"It's not—" She faltered, then tried again. "It's complicated. I don't know everything."
"Tell me what you do know."
Lila studied her hands. The closed textbook in her lap. Anything except her mother.
"They broke up," she said after a moment. "Around the time you had surgery. That's all I know. Leo won't talk about it."
"But it's because of me."
Not really a question.
Lila sat quiet. Then: "I think so. Yeah."
Their mother closed her eyes.
She stayed silent for a long time, lying there with her hands on the blanket, the machines buzzing away in the background, her face set.
"He gave up everything," she said at last, so softly Lila almost missed it. "That boy gives up everything and never says a word."
"Ma—"
