Swapping a Broken Heart for a New Start novel Chapter 65

The past came flooding back all at once.

Every memory of her grandmother—every conversation, every moment—hit Camila Davis like a tidal wave. The pain was so sharp, she couldn’t hold it in another second. Tears streamed down her face before she even realized it.

Once inside the family chapel, Camila dropped to her knees before the memorial for the elder Mrs. Smith. She bowed her head, trembling, unable to calm herself. If only Grandma were still here... If she were, maybe Camila and Lillian wouldn’t have been treated so cruelly.

Jordan Smith knelt quietly at her side. He glanced at Camila’s tear-streaked face, surprise flickering in his eyes, but he said nothing—just bowed his head in solemn silence.

Little Lillian, watching her mom cry so hard, felt a wave of worry. She quietly reached up and wiped Camila’s tears with her tiny hand.

But Camila couldn’t stop sobbing. Her grief was contagious—soon, Lillian’s own eyes filled with tears, her nose turning red as she tried not to cry, but failed.

No one was sure how long it lasted. Eventually, the mourning ritual was finished, and Camila managed to pull herself together. She took Lillian’s hand and stood up first.

Jordan got to his feet a moment later—but before he could steady himself, his legs gave out and he collapsed back down to his knees with a thud.

Camila stared at him, startled. Jordan was always composed, dignified—never this vulnerable.

He winced, frustration clear in his expression. After a long pause, he finally muttered, “My legs… they’re acting up again.”

Camila instinctively reached out to help him—then stopped midway. Old habits die hard. After years of worrying over him, her body moved before her heart could catch up. But things had changed. She forced herself to pull her hand back.

Jordan was clearly struggling. He’d been kneeling too long; his legs were numb and tingling. There was no way he could stand up alone.

He glanced at Camila, clearly expecting her to help him. But she didn’t move. His face darkened.

“Camila,” he said sharply, “the memorial’s not over. The family’s waiting outside. I still need to lead the rest of the service. You want the whole thing to go off the rails?”

Camila’s hand froze in midair. The last thing she wanted was to make her grandmother’s funeral any more distressing.

After a long, tense moment, she set her jaw, walked over, and helped Jordan up.

He leaned heavily on her as she half-carried him to a nearby chair. The whole time, Camila tried to ignore the way it made her feel.

As soon as he sat down, Jordan asked, “How long since you last did acupuncture for me? It’s been almost a month, hasn’t it?” His tone softened just a bit. “Did you forget?”

Camila caught the change in his voice and just snorted. “You sure do forget things yourself, Mr. Smith. You’re always ‘too busy’ to come home these days. Guess it slipped your mind, huh?”

Back when they’d first married, she’d helped heal his leg, but every time the weather got bad, his old injury flared up. She’d never missed a treatment, no matter what. For four years, she’d been there for him—no questions asked.

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