Page 16 of Breaking
Jenna stared at him, the lump in her throat threatening to choke her. She felt the tears burning at the edges of her vision but refused to let them fall. Without another word, she slid off the bed, grabbed her robe, and walked out of the room.
"Jenna...."
"Jenna...I did not mean it like that...What has gotten into you?"
As she closed the door behind her, Troy sank onto the edge of the bed, rubbing his face with his hands. He didn't think he'd doneanything wrong. Jenna just needed time to cool off. Maybe she was just acting out, letting her emotions get the better of her. She'd see things more clearly in the morning.
Wouldn't she?
Chapter 14
Jenna sat at the kitchen table, her hands wrapped around a mug of tea that had long since gone cold. She stared at the tablet in front of her, the half-finished map of Brighton waiting for her touch, but her mind refused to focus.
Her thoughts replayed the previous night in an endless loop-the way Troy had pulled away, the harshness of his words, the look in his eyes when he told her she was stirring things up. It wasn't the first time she'd felt the ground beneath their marriage shift, but it was the first time she wondered if it was too broken to fix.
A knock at the door startled her. She blinked, realizing she hadn't even heard footsteps approaching the house. Setting the mug down, she stood and opened the door to find Claire, the COO's wife, standing there with a warm smile and a basket in hand.
"Morning," Claire said cheerfully. "I was making banana bread and thought you might like some."
Jenna stepped aside, forcing a smile as she motioned for Claire to come in. "That's so thoughtful. Thank you."
Claire set the basket on the counter, her sharp eyes taking in the untouched tea and the tension in Jenna's posture. "You okay? You look like you didn't sleep much."
Jenna hesitated, debating whether to brush it off or tell the truth. Claire wasn't Sasha-she didn't share blunt truths with the same ease-but there was something comforting about her presence, her quiet strength.
"It's been... a rough few days," Jenna admitted, sinking back into her chair. "Troy and I... we're not in a great place."
Claire nodded, sitting across from her. "I've noticed he's been distant lately. At the last event, he barely looked your way."
The observation stung, though it wasn't anything Jenna hadn't already felt. "It's like we're strangers," she said softly. "I keep trying to reach him, but it's like he's somewhere else entirely."
"Have you told him that?" Claire asked gently.
Jenna let out a bitter laugh. "I tried. Last night, I tried, and it... it didn't go down well."
Claire reached across the table, resting a hand on Jenna's. "I'm sorry, Jenna. You deserve better than that."
For a moment, the words hung in the air, and Jenna felt tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. She quickly blinked them back, not wanting to break down in front of Claire. "I just don't know how much longer I can keep trying. It's like... everything I do is wrong."
Claire squeezed her hand. "It's not you, Jenna. And it's okay to feel like you're at your limit. But don't lose sight of who you are in all of this. You're more than just his wife or their mother."
Jenna nodded, though the words felt distant. She thanked Claire again for the banana bread before she left, then returned to the table, staring at her tablet. Slowly, she picked up the stylus and resumed work on the map, her movements mechanical but deliberate. If nothing else, she could lose herself in the details, the clean lines and bright colours offering a brief escape.
Later That Evening
Troy came home late, the sound of his keys jangling in the lock echoing through the quiet house. Jenna was sitting on the couch, abook in her lap, though she hadn't turned a page in over an hour. She watched as he walked in, his tie loosened and his shoulders slumped, looking every bit the picture of a man weighed down by the world.
He glanced at her briefly before heading toward the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water. Jenna set the book down and stood, hesitating before following him.
"Troy," she said softly, her voice almost swallowed by the distance between them. "Can we talk?"
He sighed, setting the glass down. "I'm tired, Jenna. Can't this wait?"
Her first instinct was to back off from conflict, but she pressed on. "It's always waiting, Troy. That's all I ever seem to do."
He turned to face her, his expression weary but guarded. "What do you want me to say? That I'm sorry? That I'm not trying hard enough? I'm doing everything I can, Jenna. Maybe it's time you met me halfway."
Her breath caught, the words cutting deep. "Halfway?" she repeated, her voice trembling. Her hand held his shirtsleeve, as if to prevent him from escaping. "Do you even hear yourself? I gave up everything for you. My degree, my career, my independence. I've bent over backward trying to fit into this world of yours, and you... you act like it's all just easy for me."
