Page 54 of Breaking
Now, she saw it differently. The effort, the hesitance, the way he had clearly practiced the moment over and over in his head-it all correlated with what she now knew about his ASD. How muchthought and preparation had gone into it, how much he had likely agonized over getting it right. And she had never known.
She swallowed. If they had known back then, if he had told her, could things have been different? Could they have sought help? Would she have understood him better, instead of mistaking his struggles for something they were not?
Her fingers curled into her lap as she remembered other moments, smaller but just as telling. Sitting with Clare and her husband, watching as he absently ran a hand over Clare's shoulder, dropping a kiss onto her forehead. It was casual, natural, thoughtless. Troy had never been that way. Publicly, he was composed, measured-affection shown in careful gestures, never spontaneous. But in the bedroom, he had been different. Passionate, eager, adventurous-until recently. Until the guest bedroom became his retreat.
"Tickets, please."
The conductor's voice snapped her back to the present. Jenna handed over her ticket, managing a polite nod before returning her gaze to the blurred landscape outside. She realized then that she would need to read more about autism, to understand it better. Not for Troy-her decision to divorce him still stood-but for herself, for closure. For the years she had spent confused and doubting herself.
By the time she arrived in Chester, dusk had settled over the city. She retrieved her car and drove home, the familiar roads empty in the late evening. Her body felt leaden, exhaustion tugging at every limb.
When she walked in, Dylan and Dani were still up, their eyes flicking to her expectantly. The smell of something warm and hearty filled the space-Grace had brought dinner over.
"How did it go?" Dylan asked cautiously.
Jenna forced a tired smile. "It went."
Dani frowned. "Jenna..."
"I'm exhausted," Jenna cut in, shaking her head. "I just need sleep."
They hesitated but let her go. In her bedroom-her sanctuary, her studio-she lay staring at the ceiling, thoughts churning. Troy's words, his confessions, his fears. If he had only been honest from the start, could things have been different? Would she have been enough?
She turned onto her side, her gaze landing on an unfinished canvas. The silence of the house wrapped around her, but inside her mind, the noise refused to quiet.
Chapter 44
Troy
Troy walked into the office after his meeting with the lawyers and Jenna, his expression unreadable. Without breaking stride, he tossed a curt, "I don't want to be disturbed," to Maggie before shutting the door behind him.
He moved to his chair, sitting stiffly at first, then leaned back and stared at the ceiling. The decorative wooden panels ran parallel across it-symmetrical, precise. Counting them helped him focus. He needed to handle Maggie and Lila. But carefully.
After a few minutes of silent contemplation, he reached for the phone and dialled HR.
For the next hour , not a single sound had come from his office. Maggie, seated at her desk, was unusually fidgety. She had known about the meeting with Jenna and was filled with conflicting emotions-doubt, guilt, and self-validation. She had been doing what was best for Troy and Lila, hadn't she? But Jenna had always been kind to her on the few occasions she had met her. Until recently, Jenna had treated her with warmth and asked about her son on one occasion. And yet, Maggie had ignored her calls, deleted her messages, and ensured she remained side-lined. She had convinced herself that she was acting in Troy's best interests. Now, she wasn't so sure.
And now, there was Sasha. The news of her death had hit Maggie hard, settling deep in her chest like a weight she couldn't shake. It made everything she had done feel even worse. She had been toowrapped up in her own justifications to see the damage she had helped cause in Troy's marriage.
Meanwhile, Troy had been a mess. Maggie had seen the way he carried himself lately-more withdrawn, more volatile. He barely spoke unless necessary, his patience frayed, his energy drained. He wasn't just angry. He was unravelling.
The intercom light flashed.
"Maggie, come in."
Her inner alarm blared a warning for some strange reason as she stood and made her way inside. Troy was sitting back in his chair, fingers steepled, his expression impossible to decipher. He let her stand there in silence. A minute stretched like an eternity. Maggie swallowed hard.
Troy had learned long ago that if you held eye contact and remained silent, people filled in the gaps themselves. It was a skill he had perfected in front of a mirror-rarely used, but highly effective.
"Maggie, how long have you worked for me?" His voice was calm, even.
"Ten years," she answered, her own voice unsteady.
"Ten years," he echoed. "And in those ten years, have I treated you well? Am I difficult to work with?"
"No, of course not. You've been amazing," she said quickly, her pulse hammering in her throat.
"Then, this is all very strange to me. So, before we decide what your career progression is going to look like, you might want to tell me your version of things."
