Page 36 of Breaking
Grace nudged her shoulder. "Well, welcome to real life, love. Where people don't expect you to pretend to enjoy their terrible opinions on everything."
Jenna exhaled slowly. "That sounds... nice."
Before Grace could respond, a small whirlwind of energy burst onto the scene. Her six-year-old daughter, Maisie, skidded to a stop in front of them, her wild curls bouncing. "Mum! I need money for the ice cream van! Urgent! Life or death!"
Grace sighed dramatically. "Do you need ice cream, or do you want ice cream?"
Maisie folded her arms. "If you really loved me, you wouldn't ask such silly questions."
Grace gave Jenna a knowing look before pulling some change from her pocket. "Little brat," she said affectionately. "Fine, but just one flavour. If you come back with a mix of ten, you'll be washing dishes tonight."
"Deal!" Maisie dashed off before she could change her mind.
Jenna laughed, shaking her head. "She's got you wrapped around her little finger."
Grace sighed. "I know. It's a problem. But at least she pays me back in attitude and chaos. Life is never boring."
Jenna felt the warmth of this new friendship wrap around her like a warm winter coat. This, she realized, was what it felt like to belong.
Chapter 32
Jenna
A few days later, Jenna found herself sitting in a small, tidy office across from Dylan's teacher. Mr. Carmichael was an older man with a thoughtful face, his wire-rimmed glasses slipping down his nose as he reviewed Dylan's academic records.
"I appreciate you coming in, Ms. Bradshaw," he said, setting the file aside. "Dylan is a bright boy, but his work has been inconsistent. Given everything he's been through, that's understandable."
Jenna's phone vibrated in her bag. She glanced at the screen-Troy: Good morning.
She ignored it for now and nodded at Mr. Carmichael. "I know this year is important. His GCSEs are coming up, and I don't want him to fall behind."
Mr. Carmichael steepled his fingers. "He's capable, but he needs stability. He's been struggling with concentration, and I suspect he's carrying a lot of worry about his future."
Jenna sighed. "I'll talk to him. Make sure he knows he's not alone in this."
The teacher gave her a small smile. "That will help more than you know. A little reassurance goes a long way."
As Jenna walked out of the school, another message popped up from Troy:Lilly said she misses you.
He had sent more messages in the last week than he had in twenty years of marriage.
That evening, she was in the kitchen, stirring a pot of spaghetti sauce while Dylan sat at the table, his books spread out in front of him. He had barely touched his work, instead fiddling with the edges of his notebook.
Her phone buzzed again.
Max:Hi. How are you?
Jenna sent a polite reply and turned her attention back to Dylan.
The messages from Troy kept coming-too little, too late. A simple 'hi' in the morning, a 'goodnight' at the end of the day, messages about Max and Lilly as if nothing had happened. Jenna found them more frustrating than comforting. She spoke to Lilly once and continued to send her short messages regularly, but Max's attempts at small talk felt shallow.
Then, there was Margaret. Jenna had opened a message from her expecting something neutral, but instead, it was a scathing remark-one that cut too deep to ignore.It's almost tragic how desperate you are to belong somewhere you never did. No matter what you do, Jenna, you'll always be that unwanted little girl from nowhere-too common, too plain, too much of nothing to ever fit in. I expect an apology for that outrageous behaviour at the dinner party.
Without hesitation, she blocked her, exhaling sharply as she put her phone down. Some people , she decided, were not worth engaging with. Maybe Margaret deserved some laxative in her pudding too. Or a horse's head in her bed.
Shaking off her dreams of vengeance, Jenna came back to the present.
"You okay?" Jenna asked Dylan, glancing over as she added a pinch of salt to the sauce.
