13. Chapter 12
T he morning sunlight streamed through the large kitchen windows, painting the room with a golden hue that did little to lift Jenna's spirits.
She sat at the small table, her tablet propped in front of her, stylus poised over a blank canvas.
But instead of drawing, she stared at the empty screen, her mind still heavy from the events of the beach party.
The humiliation of Lila's remark about her education still stung. The lack of acknowledgment from her husband gnawed at her. Even now, she could still hear the faint hum of laughter at the party, as though it had been etched into her memory.
She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply as she reminded herself of Dr. Patel's words from her last session. Acknowledge the feelings, but don't let them consume you. Find something that grounds you.
With that in mind, Jenna tapped the screen, pulling up her latest commission.
It was a whimsical, digitally illustrated map of Brighton for a small travel publication.
She had been thrilled when they reached out, especially since her work had only been spread through word of mouth and her anonymous online portfolio. The project was small, but it was hers.
Slowly, the lines and colours began to take shape under her hand.
The repetitive motion of shading and detailing soothed her frayed nerves.
She added tiny seagulls above the shoreline, a cluster of umbrellas near the pier, and a scattering of boats on the sea.
It wasn't perfect yet, but it was coming together-a quiet reminder that she could still create something beautiful .
An Unexpected Visit
The sound of the doorbell pulled Jenna from her work. She set her tablet down and crossed the hallway, opening the door to find Oliver standing there, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets.
"Ollie," Jenna said, surprised. "Is everything all right?"
He nodded quickly, his dark eyes flicking past her before settling back on her face. "Yeah, sorry to drop by unannounced. I just... wanted to say thank you. For the other night. It was nice talking to someone who actually listens."
Jenna smiled softly, stepping aside to let him in. "You're always welcome here, you know that. Come in, I'll make some tea."
Oliver hesitated before stepping inside, his posture relaxing slightly. He followed her to the kitchen, where she busied herself with the kettle.
"Max doesn't get it," Oliver said after a moment, his tone firm, his mouth tight with disapproval "How lucky he is to have you. I... I wish my mum was more like you. She doesn't really... care the way you do."
Jenna turned to face him, her chest tightening at the sincerity in his voice. "I'm sure she cares, Ollie. Some people just have a harder time showing it."
He shook his head, a small, bitter smile tugging at his lips. "Maybe. But it doesn't feel that way."
Jenna stared blindly at her cup of tea, the steam curling softly in the dim evening light. Across from her, Oliver leaned back in his chair, watching her closely. Jenna could feel the weight of his scrutiny, but she didn't have the energy to deflect it .
"You look exhausted," Oliver said finally, "How much sleep are you actually getting?"
Jenna shrugged, staring into her tea. "Enough."
"That's a lie." Oliver took a sip of his own drink, setting it down with a deliberate clink. "Have you even been eating properly?"
Jenna let out a soft sigh. "I'm fine, Oliver."
"No, you're not." His voice turned sharper. "You look like you're running on fumes, Aunt Jenna. You've lost weight, your eyes have shadows under them, and don't even try to tell me it's just stress. What's really going on?"
Jenna hesitated, her fingers tightening around the ceramic mug. She didn't want to say it out loud, but Oliver's gaze was unwavering, his patience wearing thin.
"It's everything," Jenna admitted at last. "The house, the kids, Troy-just... all of it. I feel like I don't exist outside of what I do for them."
Oliver leaned forward, his expression unreadable. "And Uncle Troy?"
Jenna exhaled, pressing her fingers to her temple. "He's... distant. More than usual. It's like I'm not even part of his life anymore. I'm just the one keeping things running while he's out doing whatever he wants."
Oliver frowned. "Have you talked to him about it?"
Jenna let out a dry, humourless laugh. "And say what? 'Hey, Troy, do you even notice I'm still here?' He wouldn't have an answer. Or worse, he'd have an excuse."
Before Oliver could respond, footsteps sounded from the hallway, and Max strode into the kitchen. He glanced at the two, then smirked. "What's this? Another deep conversation over tea? "
Jenna gave him a tired look. "Just tea, Max."
Max grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl, leaning against the counter. "Must be nice. Having all day to sit around drinking tea while the rest of us actually do stuff."
An uneasy silence crept into the room. Jenna's grip on her mug tightened, but she didn't say anything. Oliver, however, was having none of it.
"That's enough," Oliver said sharply, fixing Max with a disapproving stare. "Your mom works harder than you can even imagine. Just because she's not sitting in an office doesn't mean she's not working."
Max rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on, Ollie. What's so hard about being a housewife? She gets to stay home, take naps, shop, cook a bit-sounds like a vacation to me."
Jenna's lips parted, but before she could say anything, Oliver stood up, placing his hands flat on the table.
His voice was measured but firm. "Max, do you have any idea what your mom does in a day?
While you're off at university or hanging out with your friends, she's running an entire household.
Cleaning, organizing, cooking-ensuring that everything runs smoothly.
And that's on top of dealing with you lot. "
Max's smirk faltered slightly. "I didn't mean-"
"Yes, you did," Oliver interrupted. "You meant every word, and it was disrespectful. Your mother has given up so much to make sure you and Lilly had a good life, and the least you could do is show some appreciation instead of acting like she's lounging around all day."
Max's ears turned red, and he shifted uncomfortably. "I wasn't trying to be rude. "
"Well, you were," Oliver shot back. "And maybe it's time you started recognizing how much your mom does for you."
Max's gaze flickered to Jenna, and for a brief moment, something like guilt crossed his face. Then, as quickly as it had come, it was gone, replaced by defensiveness. "Whatever. I was just joking. You are turning into a bore, Ollie" He turned and walked out, the apple still in hand.
Oliver sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. "That boy needs a serious wake-up call. "
Jenna let out a shaky breath, her shoulders sagging. "He's your age."
"He is spoiled brat," Oliver finished. "And I used to like him, but he needs to be reminded that you are not his maid. No offence, but I don’t even recognise him anymore."
Jenna gave a weak smile. "He has changed."
Oliver studied her for a long moment before reaching across the table to squeeze her hand. "You deserve better, Aunt Jenna. And I think it's time you start demanding it. Noone can help you but yourself."
Jenna swallowed hard, nodding. But deep down, she wasn't sure if she had the energy to fight anymore.