Page 3 of Breaking
Troy's side.
Untouched.
Jenna exhaled slowly, letting the knot of tension settle low in her stomach. She wouldn't call him or text. They were past that, weren't they? The days when she worried about his late nights and distant silences. Now, the quiet was routine. Almost expected.
Throwing back the covers, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and planted her feet on the hardwood floor. The chill bit into her skin, a reminder that she hadn't turned up the heat last night. Another small luxury she denied herself out of some misplaced sense of martyrdom. She was always saving-money, energy, herself (a hangover from the days when she had nothing)-while the rest of the family spent freely, whether it was Troy's endless "business dinners" or Lilly's overpriced wardrobe.
In the bathroom, the mirror offered a brutal truth: she looked older than forty-five. Her skin was pale, her eyes framed by dark smudges,and the faint lines on her face were deeper this morning. Her blonde hair looked lifeless and lank; her blue eyes paler than usual. Sighing, she splashed cold water on her cheeks and scrubbed her teeth with more force than necessary, as if she could scrape away the weariness embedded in her bones.
She trudged downstairs, the scent of coffee teasing her nose as she reached the kitchen. She hadn't remembered starting the machine, but the timer she'd set the night before must have kicked in. Small mercies that got her through the day. The kids would be up soon-Lilly with her constant scrolling, Max with his headphones practically glued to his skull-and the house would come alive with movement, but none of it would touch her.
It hadn't in years.
She poured herself a mug, wrapping her hands around the warm ceramic as she stared out the window. The garden was pristine, every hedge trimmed, every flowerbed weeded. Her work. Her pride. She liked order, control and the satisfaction of taking something chaotic and moulding it into perfection. At least here, she could see the fruits of her labour.
Unlike her marriage.
She heard the shuffle of feet behind her and glanced over her shoulder. Lilly appeared in the doorway, her long hair a tangled mess from sleep, her phone already in her hand.
"Morning," Lilly mumbled, barely looking up as she slid into a chair at the table.
"Good morning," Jenna replied, her voice soft. "Breakfast?"
"I'm good." Lilly didn't bother glancing up, her thumbs tapping away on her screen.
Jenna pressed her lips together, the familiar ache settling in her chest. She didn't push. Pushing only widened the already gaping distance between them.
Max was next, his footsteps heavier, his headphones perched around his neck. He grunted a greeting as he opened the fridge, pulling out a carton of juice before retreating back upstairs without a word.
Jenna stood there, the silence settling like a second skin, and sipped her coffee. The loneliness wasn't new. It had become a part of her-woven into the fabric of her life so thoroughly that she wasn't sure she'd recognize herself without it.
Her phone buzzed on the counter, the sharp vibration breaking the quiet. She reached for it automatically, her heart sinking when she saw the message.
Was working late again. Slept in the apartment.
Her fingers lingered over the screen for a moment before she placed the phone down, the hurt constricting her chest like a vice. She should be used to this by now-she was used to it-but that didn’t make it any less painful. Meanwhile, the distance between her and Troy had only continued to widen. The miscarriage-constantly on her mind these days for some strange reason-remained an unspoken barrier between them, never acknowledged, yet impossible to ignore.
A knock at the front door startled her. Frowning, she wiped her hands on a dishtowel and moved to answer it, her pulse quickening when she saw the figure standing on the other side of the frosted glass.
Sasha.
Jenna opened the door, the cold air rushing in as her friend stepped inside, her expression sharp and assessing. Sasha never missed a thing.
"Why didn't you say you were coming?" Jenna felt a plume of excitement on seeing her old friend. Sasha had never visited, mainly because she somehow understood where Sasha's only friend from her old life ranked with Troy.
But yesterday's conversation over the phone with Jenna felt ...off.
"You look like hell," Sasha said bluntly, pulling off her scarf. Her words were softened by the concern in her eyes. "What's going on?"
Jenna's laugh was hollow, bitter. "You mean besides my husband treating me like a ghost and my kids acting like I'm a piece of furniture?"
"Don't," Sasha said, her voice firm. "Don't downplay it. Talk to me."
For a moment, Jenna wavered, torn between the urge to hold everything inside and the need to release the burden that had been weighing her down. But when she finally let go, the words came pouring out-Troy’s late nights, the distance growing between them, the woman in his office with immaculate hair and a phony laugh, and the child she’d never even had the chance to know, haunting her thoughts more and more. By the time she finished, her voice shook, and Sasha’s face clouded with concern. Worry edged Sasha’s question about whether Jenna had been in touch with Dr. Patel. Jenna nodded in admission-she had, and she’d had to restart her medication.
"That arrogant prick," Sasha muttered. "He doesn't know what he's got, does he? I don’t understand why Troy cannot talk about the baby you lost. It feels like you’ve been carrying this alone for so long-it’s not fair. You have obviously not been able to put it to rest.”
Jenna sighed. Troy always found a reason to leave the room whenever she brought it up.
