Page 39 of Breaking
Troy:I saw something today, and it made me think of you. Something stupid, really-those little lemon tarts you love. Remember when you made me drive to three different bakeries when you were pregnant just to find the perfect ones? I ended up eating half of them, but you swore the ones from that tiny French café were the best. I saw them at a shop today, and I just... I don't know. I guess I miss you. I know I've messed things up, and I don't deserve to ask, but-are you okay? If you'd let me, I'd like to come to Chester and talk. No pressure. No expectations. Just let me know. Please.
Jenna felt an unfamiliar rage as she read the message again.
Damn him. Where was all this concern when she was begging for his time?
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.
She should reply. A simple, polite acknowledgment, at least.
Too soon. Too soon to be civil. Maybe after the divorce.
She locked the screen and dropped the phone into her handbag, pushing it down as if that could bury the emotions clawing their way to the surface.
She had no obligation to answer him. Not after everything. Not after the late nights waiting, the ignored calls, the humiliations stacked one on top of the other until she had finally walked away.
And yet, guilt twisted in her stomach.
Not because she owed him anything.
But because of Adam.
Because she had agreed-however casually-to go to a concert with a man who wasn't her husband, despite the separation. Because, for the first time in years, she had felt something other than exhaustion in a conversation with someone new.
She wasn't cheating. She wasn't even sure she was ready for anything beyond casual company. She wasn't going to be ready for a very long time. But that didn't stop the self-recrimination from creeping in.
She exhaled slowly before reaching for her shopping bags.
She wasn't replying.
She wasn't opening that door again.
With quiet resolve, she stepped out of the car and headed inside, leaving thoughts of the past behind her.
Chapter 34
Troy
Troy had never thought of himself as a man who needed looking after. He had built his own success, created a life on his terms, and always assumed Jenna's role in their home had been supplementary-a graceful accessory to the life he had provided. Someone who supported and was grateful.
Now, as he stood in the middle of their kitchen, staring at the takeout containers cluttering the counter and the dishes piled up in the sink, he realized just how much he had taken for granted.
The house felt different. Cold. Empty. Not just because Jenna was gone, but because her presence had always been the thing that had turned it from a house into a home. She had kept everything running, not just the physical space but the heart of it-the small, thoughtful touches, the quiet reassurances, the ability to make even the worst days seem manageable.
And the meals. Christ, the meals.
There had always been something warm on the table when he got home-home-cooked meals made with care, Jenna's presence at the kitchen island, sipping tea while asking about his day. Now, there was nothing but silence, broken only by the hum of the refrigerator and the occasional sound of Max stomping upstairs.
At first, he had thought hiring a maid would help. He wasn't going to let the house turn into chaos. He had hired a professional service-efficient and thorough. The laundry was done, the floors werespotless, and there were fresh sheets on the bed. The house was in order, but it wasn't right. It still felt empty, lifeless as if missing something crucial. No amount of tidiness could replace the way Jenna had made their home feel lived in.
It made no sense. He had never thought about these things before. He had always assumed that if you removed one piece, the machine would still function. But now, he felt like he had dismantled a well-run machine and lost the one part that made it work.
Troy had spent his entire career problem-solving, first as an engineer, then as a specialist in automation systems. He had designed entire infrastructures for corporations that demanded efficiency, developing processes that replaced human oversight with seamless, AI-driven precision.
And yet, for all his expertise, for all his ability to build, to optimize, to fix-he had never once applied that same logic to his marriage.
Jenna had been right there. Right beside him. And he had ignored all the warning signs.
He had told himself he was doing it for them. That working late, taking on extra projects, accepting higher-stakes contracts-it was all for their future.
