EMBERS OF THE UNSPOKEN

Chapter Six — The Weight of What Cannot Be Buried

The front door slammed behind them, and Sterling staggered into the living room, barely making it past the couch before collapsing into it. Dirt clung to his jeans, his nails, even his hair—reminders of the shallow grave they had left behind in the darkness of the bush. As he collapse onto the couch, the weight of what he did kept crashing down on him.

His hands were still stained with dirt.

Dirt from the hole they dug.

Dirt from the shovel he dropped.

Dirt from burying his wife… and his child.

Sterling stared at his palms like they belonged to someone else—like the guilt smeared across them wasn’t real.

“Oh God,” he whispered, voice cracking. “Oh God… what have I done?”

His hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

He bent forward, gripping his hair, elbows digging into his knees. His entire body trembled violently.

“I killed them,” he choked out. “Mira… and our baby. Our baby, Vanessa… our baby.”

Behind him, Vanessa locked the door and leaned against it, exhaling softly—almost irritated by the sight of him breaking down.

She approached slowly, heels clicking softly across the concrete floor, and sat beside him. Her hand slid across his back, rubbing gently inorder to calm him down.

“Sterling… breathe,” she murmured. “You need to calm down.”

“I pushed her,” he gasped. “I pushed her down those stairs—she begged me, Vanessa! She begged me to save our baby—”

His voice cracked into a broken sob.

“And I buried them. I even burnt them.”

Vanessa tightened her jaw for a moment before forcing a soothing tone.

“It was an accident,” she said. “You panicked. I panicked. We had no choice after she saw us.”

Sterling lifted his head, eyes bloodshot and wild.

“No choice? Vanessa, she was alive! I wanted to take her to the hospital, I—I tried to help her! You’re the one who—”

He stopped, breath hitching painfully.

Vanessa’s expression hardened. Just for a second.

Then she smoothed it away and cupped his cheek, forcing his eyes to stay on his.

“Listen to me,” she said firmly, her voice lowering to a slow, deliberate whisper. “If you had taken her to the hospital, everything would have fallen apart. We would have been exposed. Everything we’ve built, everything we’ve planned—it would have ended, and prison will be the least of our problem”

Sterling shook his head weakly, tears falling onto his shirt.

“She was carrying my child…”

“And that’s why we need to make sure this never leads back to us,” Vanessa said sharply, her tone dropping its softness for the first time.

He flinched.

She softened her voice again.

“What matters now isn’t what happened,” she said. “It’s what people believe happened.”

Sterling stared at her, lost. “Venessa... I can't think straight at the moment”

Vanessa took his hand, squeezing it with cold determination.

“We need a story,” she said. “A strong one. Something Mira’s parents and the entire community will accept without question.”

His throat tightened. “I can’t lie to them.”

“what do you mean you can't lie to them?” she questioned. “And you will—if you don’t want to go to prison for the rest of your life.”

He closed his eyes, unable to argue.

Sterling shook his head, overwhelmed. “Say… what? Vanessa, I can't come up with a story right now. I can’t—”

“You don’t have to think,” she murmured, sliding her hand down his arm. “You just have to trust me.”

He stared at her, confusion and fear battling in his eyes.

Vanessa gave a faint, almost chilling smile.

“Tonight was messy,” she continued, tone calm and controlled. “Too messy. And if we’re going to survive this, we need to be smart. Both of us.”

Sterling swallowed hard.

“What are you suggesting?”

She brushed her hair back, the calmness around her unnerving.

“I have an idea,” she said simply.

“A brilliant one.”

Sterling stiffened.

“What kind of idea?”

she gave assuring nod—but she didn’t answer him.

Instead, she stood slowly, smoothing the wrinkles in her clothes, and glanced toward the dark window as though thinking several steps ahead.

“We’ll talk in the morning,” she said. “After you’ve rested.”

“Vanessa—”

“Not now.”

Her voice sharpened, ending the conversation.

Sterling slumped back onto the couch, defeated, breath shaky and uneven. The pounding guilt in his chest felt unbearable, but beneath it, something colder crept in:

He had no idea what Vanessa was planning.

And that terrified him more than what they had done.