Lila's Decision
Chapter 10 - Lila's Decision
Lila was discharged from the hospital nine days after the wedding, considerably stronger than the pale, motionless figure Eleanor had discovered beneath blood-soaked sheets, though the specific, lingering effects of the poisoning required ongoing monitoring and medication adjustments that Dr. Singh managed carefully over the following weeks.
The pregnancy, against every reasonable medical expectation, continued to hold.
"This baby is considerably more resilient than the circumstances would suggest," Dr. Singh told Lila and Adrian, during a follow-up appointment. "I want to be honest that the first trimester will require closer monitoring than usual, given what your system has been through. But the current indicators are encouraging."
Lila held Adrian's hand through the appointment, feeling the specific, complicated mix of relief and residual fear that had become her constant companion since waking up in the hospital.
The question of returning to the Whitcomb house remained unresolved. Adrian wanted to go home. Lila wasn't certain she could enter the bridal bedroom without seeing the blood-soaked sheets, without feeling the specific, cold terror of waking up weak and unable to move while something inside her body was quietly, systematically failing.
"I'm not ready to go back there," she told Adrian, during a careful conversation at Rachel's apartment, where she'd been staying since discharge. "Not yet. Maybe not for a while."
"That's completely your decision," Adrian said. "We can stay here. We can find somewhere new entirely. Whatever feels safest to you."
"Your mother wants to see me," Lila said. "Rachel told me she's been calling every day."
"She has," Adrian confirmed. "I've told her it's your decision, and she respects that completely. She's been, honestly, considerably different since that morning. I don't think either of us recognizes the version of her that's emerged over the past two weeks."
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Lila considered this carefully, the specific, complicated calculus of a woman weighing six months of sustained cruelty against two weeks of apparent transformation, uncertain whether the transformation was genuine or simply another, more sophisticated form of the control Eleanor had always exercised.
"I'll see her," Lila said finally. "Once. Here, at Rachel's, on neutral ground. I want to hear what she has to say without being inside her house while she says it."
