Page 35 of Breaking
The next few days were a whirlwind of meetings with the solicitor and taking care of Dani and Dylan. Jenna tried to stay strong for the children, but there were moments-late at night, when the house was quiet-when the grief would crash over her like a tidal wave. She would sit in Sasha's favourite armchair, clutching a cup of tea, and let the tears flow.
One evening, Dani joined her, curling up on the couch with a blanket. "Do you miss her?" the girl asked quietly.
"Every second," Jenna admitted, her voice thick with emotion. "She was my best friend. My sister in every way that mattered."
Dani nodded, her eyes glistening with tears. "I don't know what we're going to do without her."
Jenna reached over, taking Dani's hand in hers. "We'll figure it out together. Sasha would want us to stick together, to take care of each other. And that's what we're going to do."
Dani nodded again, squeezing Jenna's hand tightly. "Thank you," she whispered, her thirteen-year-old heart in her eyes. "For staying. For being here."
Jenna smiled through her tears. "There is nowhere else I’d rather be."
The next morning, Jenna found herself walking through the house, taking in all the little details that made it Sasha's. The framed photos on the walls, the handwritten recipe cards in the kitchen, the stack ofunfinished crossword puzzles on the coffee table. Every corner of the house was a testament to the life Sasha had built-a life that Jenna was now responsible for preserving.
She paused in front of a bookshelf, running her fingers along the spines of Sasha's favourite novels. There were a few of her own to keep them company, now. One book caught her eye, its title familiar-Persuasion by Jane Austen. It was the one Sasha had given her years ago, inscribed with a message that Jenna had long forgotten.
To Jenna,
Never forget who you are and what you are capable of.
Love Sasha
Jenna pulled the book from the shelf, clutching it to her chest as fresh tears fell.
She had converted one of the downstairs rooms into a small studio, a space she could call her own. The walls were lined with sketches, half-finished commissions, and stacks of digital draft prints. Her illustration work had been a quiet refuge, something she could pour herself into when the weight of everything threatened to pull her under. At night, instead of taking the master bedroom, she had pulled a single bed into the studio, preferring to sleep surrounded by her work. It was a reminder that, even in the middle of grief, she was still creating, still moving forward. Sasha had always seen the best in her, and now, Jenna was determined to live up to that belief.
The streets of Chester had a different rhythm than Brighton-slower, softer. The old cobbled roads, the historic buildings with their black-and-white timbered facades, and the sense of quiet community all felt foreign yet oddly comforting. Jenna had spent so long trying to fit intoa world that never quite welcomed her, but here, among the small bakeries and bookshops, she felt a tentative sense of belonging.
Grace, Sasha's long-time neighbour, had been a blessing in those first few weeks. Soft-spoken with dark hair and hazel eyes, she had cared for Dani and Dylan when Jenna had returned to Brighton to settle things. She had a gentle way about her, a quiet steadiness that reassured Jenna in moments of doubt.
"You're doing fine," Grace told her as they sat on a bench by the river, watching the children feed the ducks. "They're grieving, but they trust you. That’s half the battle."
Jenna wrapped her arms around herself, staring at the water. "I keep feeling like I'm an intruder. Like I'm trying to slip into Sasha's life."
Grace let out a soft chuckle. "Trust me, if Sasha were here, she'd give you an earful about this nonsense. She left you everything because she knew you wouldn't just step in-you'd show up for them. And let's be honest, if you were doing it wrong, I'd have let you know by now."
Jenna smiled despite herself. "Oh, I don't doubt that."
Grace smirked. "Exactly. I don't have time for politeness. It's a wonder you survived all those years with Troy's family."
Jenna let out a small laugh. "It's a practice I have perfected. It's called gritted teeth and well-placed wine."
Grace gasped in mock horror. "And here I was thinking you were some perfectly polished housewife. Turns out you're a secret rebel."
Jenna smirked, leaning back against the bench. "Oh, you have no idea. One time, at one of Grant's dinner parties, his wife Victoria made some snide remark about my weight. Something about how 'curvy'women had to be careful around dessert if they wanted to keep their husbands interested."
Grace groaned. "Oh, she did not."
"Oh, she did," Jenna confirmed. "So, I excused myself to the kitchen and ever so discreetly laced her pudding with a little something extra. Just a touch of laxative."
Grace burst out laughing. "You didn't!"
Jenna shrugged innocently. "She spent the rest of the evening running back and forth to the bathroom. Couldn't even finish her condescending lecture on 'maintaining appearances.'"
Grace wiped a tear from her eye. "I take it back. You're not just a secret rebel; you're a full-blown vigilante."
Jenna grinned. "Justice, my way. I will tell you about the rest of my petty little victories another time.I had to do something to get through those god-awful dinner parties. Now I can write a book about it."
