44. Chapter 43
J enna
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.
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 much thought 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.