Jack was there too. Standing close. Too close. And their voices?—
I stopped walking. Something in their posture made me freeze. Jack’s shoulders were tight. Michael’s head was bowed like he was carrying something he couldn’t set down, like he was carrying something heavy.
“—can’t keep this from her much longer.” Jack’s voice was low but tense, “When it gets worse, she’ll start asking questions we can’t answer without lying to her face.”
I took a step closer, staying against the wall where they couldn’t see me. My hand tightened around my father’s phone.
“We have to try.” Michael’s voice sounded different than I’d ever heard it. Almost desperate. “If we tell her the truth—It could accelerate everything. The stress alone could trigger another seizure or worse.”
My breath stopped. Completely.
Seizure?The words didn’t make sense but I felt something cold settle in my chest.
“I just know that telling her serves no purpose except making us feel better about not lying to her. Itdoesn’t help her.It just takes away the peace she has left.” Michael spoke again, his voice carrying a wave of sadness I could hear from where I stood.
The peace she has left.
I stepped around the corner before I could stop myself. They were standing close together, Jack saw me first. His face went white.
Michael turned—and the look on his face was indescribable.
The expression that crossed his face in that split second—pure shock, followed immediately by something that looked like fear—told me everything I needed to know. That this was real. That whatever they’d been talking about, I wasn’t supposed to hear it.
He tried to school his features into something neutral, something calm. But it was too late. I’d seen it.
“Claudette—” he started.
“What truth?” My voice shook. “What are you keeping from me?”
Neither of them spoke. Jack looked at Michael. Michael looked at me, and I watched him try to find words that wouldn’t give anything away.
“What truth, Jack?” I looked at my brother.
“Claudette, you should be resting—” Jack started, but I cut him off.
“Don’t.” The word came out sharper than I intended. “Don’t treat me like a child. What are you hiding?”
“There’s more to it than I can explain right now,” Michael said. He took a step toward me, but stopped midway.
“Then explain it anyway.” My voice rose despite me. I looked between them. “What did you mean about accelerating what? About seizures?”
The words felt foreign in my mouth. Wrong. Like they belonged to someone else’s life, not mine.
“You need to calm down,” Michael said, too gently.
“I am calm.” I wasn’t. But my heart was pounding now, hard enough that I could feel it in my throat. “Tell me what you’re talking about.”
“Claudette, please—” Jack moved toward me.
“Tell me what you meant.” My voice was rising now. I could hear it but couldn’t stop it.
Michael’s hands were on my shoulders now, gentle but firm. “Not here. Not like this.”
“I want to know now!” I tried to pull away from him but his grip tightened. “Stop treating me like I’m?—”
That’s when the headache hit.
Not gradual. Not a warning. Just pain—violent and absolute.
