I told her it happened over two weeks ago.
Patricia had discovered she had late-stage breast cancer.
She didn't want her family to suffer.
So she chose to bear it alone, in silence.
"Why didn't she tell us sooner?"
"Patricia said she wanted to keep it from you as long as she could."
"You... you two..."
My mother-in-law was shaking with anger and grief. First her husband, now her daughter—the double blow was too much. She collapsed, unconscious.
When she woke up, she cried until she lost her voice.
Later, I got a text from Patricia using an unknown number.
"How are my parents?"
"You didn't tell them the truth, did you?"
I smiled and replied: "Did exactly what you asked."
"You're the best, babe. Keep covering for me."
"Something happened at home. Are you coming back?"
"I'm busy. Whatever it is, don't bother me with it."
"Just handle things there."
I sent another message. No response. Again.
Patricia.
Keep having fun with your little boyfriend.
A cold smile tugged at my lips.
After that, all contact between us stopped completely.
The only updates I got were from videos her boyfriend posted—the two of them living it up.