Page 53 of Breaking
Chapter 42
Jenna sat in stunned silence, as her mind sifted through Troy's confession. Her mind reeled, piecing together the fragments of their past with the new knowledge he had just laid before her. His high-functioning autism, his reliance on routine, his difficulty with change-it all suddenly made sense. But it didn't change the hurt.
"How did you cope?" she finally asked, her voice quiet, almost hesitant.
Troy exhaled, his fingers tapping absently against the table, his version of a nervous tic. "Work helped. My job, AI, computer tech-it soothes me. Predictability, logic, things that make sense. You." He hesitated before continuing. "Lila... she understood the technical side of things. She had done a degree in computer applications before moving into management. It made conversations easier. But there was nothing else. I am sure you saw the tabloids. That was just a smokescreen orchestrated by Lila. She won’t get away with it."
Jenna flinched at the mention of Lila's name, but she didn't interrupt.
"And Mack," he added, referring to his best friend. "He did most of the socializing. I've always kept quiet at family occasions. It worked with my parents. Too much stimulation, too many expectations-I avoided it when I could."
Jenna swallowed down the ache in her throat. "But ...?"
His fingers stilled. "I don't handle surprises well." A shadow crossed his face. "Like when you told me you were pregnant. I didn't react the way I should have. And that... that other time," he admitted,referencing the moment years ago when he had shown up at her café blindly following Grant's advice. "Father had been talking about the engagement for years and Grant told me, I had to keep you on your toes. I handled that so badly. I should never have listened to him."
Jenna looked away, staring at the floor as memories surfaced, sharp and unforgiving. "And the prenup? That was your way of... what? Keeping me with you?"
Troy nodded, his throat working as he swallowed. "I was terrified. I wanted control over something. I watched our kids closely, afraid they might be like me. When they weren't, I thought I could keep my condition from you. I didn't want to burden you with it."
She let out a slow, unsteady breath. "But Troy, that's exactly the betrayal I can't forgive. You kept something this big from me-something we could have worked on together. A lot of things make sense now. We could have gotten help. Instead, you let me feel like I was failing for years, when all along, we had an answer you refused to share."
Regret clouded his expression. "I didn't know how to tell you. I thought if I just kept everything stable, it would be fine. But I see now-I was wrong."
Jenna's voice wavered, but she pushed through. "Your family made me feel like an outsider for years. Even though Grant and your sister have warmed up to me now, it doesn't erase what I went through. You should have stood up for me."
Troy's head dipped slightly, an unspoken acknowledgment of her words. "Moving back to Brighton after years in Manchester... after my father died, I thought we were doing the right thing. But I see now it just added more strain."
Jenna inhaled sharply, her decision solidifying, "I can't forgive this, Troy. I've taken the back seat for too long. I want to go through with the divorce."
Troy looked down at his hands, silent. Then, slowly, he lifted his gaze to hers. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, Jenna cut in.
"But you can hold my gaze," she said softly, studying him. "I never suspected you had a problem socially."
His lips pressed into a thin line. "It's conditioning. My tutor drilled it into me for years. Like muscle memory. You sit straight because you're taught to. But left to yourself, you slouch, right? In the beginning, it felt a little like looking directly at the sun. Too bright, too uncomfortable. I can hold eye contact now because I practised again and again. It's not instinct-it's effort. If you do the same thing over and over again, it gets easier. Almost naturally but not quite."
Silence stretched between them, thick and uncomfortable.
Then, Troy finally spoke. "There's a cooling-off period of twenty weeks before the divorce is finalized. Give me that time. Let me prove I can change."
Jenna's hands curled into fists in her lap. She hesitated before lifting her eyes to his. "I can't move back. Dylan and Dani are my priority now. And honestly... I don't think we match. At least not anymore. I don't think you can give me what I need, and I'm not sure I'm what you want either."
Troy's face remained impassive, but she could see the tension in his jaw, the slight twitch in his fingers. She sighed. "You don't even know the basic things going on in my life, Troy. Please, keep your promise. Don't fight the divorce."
She stood, her chair scraping against the floor. The finality of it all pressed down on her, but she didn't waver. She walked toward the door, pausing only once to look back. "Goodbye, Troy."
She stepped out, brushing past her lawyer, Olivia, who had just arrived. She stopped to whisper something in her ear. And then, without a second glance, she walked away.
Inside, Troy slumped back in his chair, staring at nothing, looking utterly lost.
Chapter 43
Jenna
Jenna settled into her seat by the train window, the soft hum of the carriage vibrating through her as the train pulled away from the platform. The muted murmur of passengers filled the air, punctuated by the occasional rustling of a newspaper. The elderly gentleman beside her methodically turned a page, the crisp sound blending with the rhythmic clatter of the wheels against the tracks.
She exhaled, sinking into her thoughts. The announcement of the next stop crackled over the speaker, momentarily pulling her out of her reverie. Then the scent of freshly brewed tea and coffee drifted her way as the trolley rolled down the aisle. The attendant's voice rang out, offering refreshments, but Jenna barely registered it.
Her mind wandered back to that moment-Troy's proposal. It hadn't been cold. If anything, it had taken him outside his comfort zone. She remembered how he hadn't looked at her until she said yes, his hands gripping the box tightly. When she agreed, he had exhaled shakily and tentatively hugged her, as though unsure if it was the right move. Then, slowly, his arms had tightened around her, the embrace growing firmer, more certain. At the time, she had thought it was sweet-his way of making an effort in a way that didn't come naturally to him.
