I have turned that sentence over many times since.

That I should be happy for them.

That my best friend and my husband, having built a second life in the shadow of my marriage and my illness, believed themselves entitled not only to my silence but to my blessing.

It tells you everything about the world they lived in, the world where I was a burden to be managed and my feelings a formality to be checked off.

Be happy for us, Camila.

As though I were a distant aunt, and not the woman whose skull was about to be opened.