Page 17 of Breaking
His jaw tightened, his gaze hardening. "You think this is easy for me? Do you have any idea the pressure I'm under, trying to keep everything together? To make sure you and the kids have everything you need?"
"What we need?" Jenna's voice rose, her frustration spilling over. "Troy, I need you. Not the money, not the house, not the perfect image you're so obsessed with maintaining. I need you here, with me."
She swallowed hard, feeling the threat of tears. "Lately, I can't sleep," she whispered. "I've been dreaming about the baby we lost-our child. It's been haunting me, and I can't just pretend it never happened."
Troy’s expression darkened. "It was years ago, Jenna. There’s nothing we can do about it now. You need to put it where it belongs-in the past. How can we change what happened? " He rubbed the back of his neck and added, "Maybe we can repurpose that corner room. It’s time we moved on, or at least did something productive with the space."
He abruptly shifted his stance, as though searching for a way out of the conversation, "Look, I'm exhausted and tomorrow is going to be another long day. We can talk about this another time, okay?"
Jenna stared at him, the ache in her chest magnifying. "But-"
He cut her off, stepping away from the counter. "I'm heading upstairs."
She let her arm drop to her side, her eyes filling with tears.
"Wait...Is it Lila? Is something going on with her? Just tell me what's wrong ",Jenna cried, her eyes filling up.
Troy didn't answer. She stood there, frozen, as his footsteps faded. The weight in her chest felt unbearable, but she swallowed it down, retreating to her studio. If nothing else, she could pour her pain into her work. At least the lines and colours never judged her.
Chapter 15
Jenna stood at the kitchen counter, staring at the long list of tasks she had scribbled on a notepad. The annual dinner party was only a couple of weeks away, and the weight of it already felt like too much to bear. Every year, she hosted this event on her father-in-law's birthday, bringing together Troy's family, and a few close friends from their social circle. And every year, she felt like she was being graded, judged on her ability to fit into a world that still didn't feel like hers.
"You've got this," Sasha's voice echoed in her mind. But as Jenna scanned the list of guests, her confidence wavered.
Troy's brother, Grant, and his wife, Victoria, were at the top of the list. Grant had always been polite enough, though he'd initially shared his mother's belief that Jenna was a gold-digger. Over the years, he'd softened toward her, especially after seeing how devoted she was to Troy and the children. But Victoria... Victoria was another story.
Rich, glamorous, and unapologetically condescending, Victoria made no effort to hide her disdain for Jenna. Every conversation with her felt like a battlefield, with Victoria subtly reminding Jenna of her own lack of pedigree or connections. Jenna dreaded her presence more than anyone else's.
Troy's sister, Eleanor, was nicer, but her kindness was always tempered by an almost reflexive loyalty to their mother. Eleanor followed her lead in most things, and Jenna often found herself caught between Eleanor's hesitant warmth and her passive participation in the family's criticisms.
As Jenna organized the seating chart, she chewed on the end of her pen. The placement mattered. Victoria would expect to be near the head of the table, but Jenna couldn't stomach the thought of sitting next to her for hours. Eleanor was less demanding, but she needed to be close to Troy's mother to keep the peace. And then there was Grant, who was best kept far away from the more opinionated guests.
"What are you doing?" Troy's voice broke her concentration. She looked up to see him standing in the doorway, his tie loosened and his expression weary. The most recent merger seemed to suck all of Troy's time and energy. Yesterday's conversation was no more than an afterthought, long forgotten.
"Planning the party," she said, holding up the notepad. "Seating arrangements, menu, decor... you know, the usual."
He stepped closer, glancing at the list. "You don't have to stress about this so much, Jenna. It's just dinner."
Her jaw tightened, but she kept her voice calm. "It's not just dinner, Troy. It's your family, your colleagues, your... world. And if anything goes wrong, it's on me."
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You always do fine. They're not expecting perfection."
"Aren't they?" Jenna countered, her voice rising slightly. "Your mother is. Victoria is. Half the people at that table will be looking for something to criticize. And you know it."
"Jenna," he said, his tone turning defensive. "You're the one putting all this pressure on yourself. No one asked you to go overboard."
She stared at him, the frustration bubbling beneath her surface. "You have no idea what it takes to make these things happen, do you?I'm the one who handles everything while you show up, shake hands, and take the credit for how seamless it all looks."
Troy's expression hardened. "You're being unfair."
"Am I?" she shot back. "When was the last time you asked how you could help? When was the last time you even noticed how much work goes into making this house look like the perfect backdrop for your perfect life?"
He opened his mouth to respond but stopped and pressed his lips together into a thin line. Jenna was always quiet and never argumentative. Of recent, every conversation was a minefield. Without another word, he turned and left the kitchen, leaving Jenna standing there, her chest heaving with a mix of anger and exhaustion.
A few hours later.
Jenna sat in her studio, her tablet in front of her, but the page remained blank. Her stylus hovered over the screen as her mind raced with thoughts of the upcoming dinner. No matter how much she prepared, there was no way to account for the unpredictability of Victoria's sharp tongue or her mother-in-law's passive-aggressive comments. Even Grant, who had warmed up to Jenna over the years, often looked the other way when Victoria's words cut too deep.
