Page 22 of Breaking
Back to the present
Jenna lay sprawled on the bed, staring at the ceiling, unblinking. The door creaked open, and she didn't need to turn her head to know it was Troy. She heard the quiet rustle of fabric as he loosened his tie, his movements measured, controlled.
"Was that necessary?"
Jenna turned sharply, her breath unsteady. "A spectacle? I endured their cutting remarks all night while you just stood there. I was suffocating, Troy. You let them treat me like I was nothing. Nothing has changed since we got married. It's the same story on repeat."
Troy exhaled slowly, rubbing his temples. "You have changed, Jenna. You're imagining things. They weren't trying to hurt you. It's just the way they are."
Jenna let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. "You think I'm imagining it? Troy, they barely acknowledge me unless it's to remind me I don't belong! And you let it happen. I am nothing more than a glorified servant "
His voice remained even, but a flicker of frustration crossed his face. "Jenna, you need to stop making everything about them versus you."
Her voice trembled now, a mix of anger and desperation. "And Lila? Is she just being polite too? Or does she get a free pass because she's 'poised' and fits into your world?"
Troy's expression hardened. "Lila is Mack's sister and an employee. That's all. Whatever you think is happening, it's in your head."
Jenna shook her head, her eyes dull with exhaustion. "Don't do that. Don't make me feel like I'm crazy for seeing what's right in front of me."
Troy's jaw clenched, his control slipping. "Then stop acting like a child, Jenna. You're twisting everything."
The words hit her like a slap. She stared at him, breathing unsteadily. Then, voice barely above a whisper, she said, "If you think I don't belong, then maybe you should go find someone who does."
Troy met her gaze, his own unreadable. A long silence stretched between them before he finally turned to leave. He paused at the door, hesitating. Then, almost as if speaking to himself, he muttered, "Maybe we both need to take a step back."
Jenna's breath caught, the words twisting in her mind as something far more sinister. The thought of him walking straight to Lila sent a cold chill through her.
Moments later, the front door clicked shut, and a little later the sound of his car faded into the night.
Jenna stood frozen, the stress of the evening pressing heavily on her. Silent tears slid down her cheeks, soaking into the pillow. She lay there, eyes open, staring at the dark ceiling, unable to stop the storm of emotions swirling inside her. Sleep did not come until the first streaks of morning light crept through the curtains, when exhaustion finally overtook her.
Chapter 21
Troy
Troy wasn't sure how he'd ended up here, only that the whiskey in his glass burned less with each sip, smoothing out the jagged edges of his thoughts. The bar was dim, flickering candlelight casting soft, shifting shadows over plush, emerald-green booths and dark wooden panelling. The scent of aged spirits and citrus bitters lingered in the air. It was the kind of place where people didn't come for company but for the comfort of being left alone. That had suited him fine-until the bartender, an older man with greying temples and sharp, knowing eyes, interrupted his solitude.
"Rough night?" the man asked as he refilled Troy's glass without being asked.
Troy exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. He wasn't the type to talk. He'd always been careful, guarded. Even as a child, he had learned that sharing too much only invited scrutiny, and scrutiny invited criticism.
And yet, something about tonight, about the way Jenna had looked through him at that damn dinner party, made him open his mouth before he could stop himself.
"My wife is unhappy," he said, the words unfamiliar and uncomfortable on his tongue. "I always thought she was happy."
The bartender wiped the marble countertop and gave a noncommittal hum. The subdued hum of jazz music played in the background, filtering through the soft murmur of conversations. Hewasn't offering sympathy, which Troy appreciated. He didn't need to be coddled. He just needed to get this poison out of his system.
"I guess I have been avoiding things. No, she hasn’t been happy in a while," Troy continued, staring into his drink. "Jenna... she was-she is-different from what I knew growing up. I wanted that. Needed that. You see, my mother was always a distant, her affection doled out in small, calculated doses-just enough to make you crave more but never enough to ruffle her feathers. It was a game of parry and retreat, every interaction measured, deliberate. My brother and sister had fallen in line, understanding early that warmth was conditional, approval even more so. I guess I took much longer. My father wasn't much better. He looked at me like I was a project to perfect or a failure to discard."
He clenched his jaw, old anger surfacing in his chest. His father had tried to discard him when he chose Jenna. Tried to make him choose between the woman he wanted to marry and the inheritance he had been raised to see as his inevitable future.
It had been the only act of rebellion he had ever allowed himself. It had also be the making of him.
"I married her anyway," he muttered, almost to himself. "Told him to go to hell. Didn't see a penny of my trust until I turned twenty-five. And by then, I didn't need it."
The bartender leaned against the counter, watching him with interest. "She know that?"
Troy gave a dry, humourless chuckle. "No."
