43. Chapter 43 Unjinxed - The Beginning After the End
Jenna: One year later
It’s strange how we survive. How life demands you keep moving even when it feels like a tornado ripped through everything you know.
Months after my divorce and the breakup with Dylan, I thought I’d never see light again.
That I’d be stuck in that black void forever.
It felt like someone had scraped out the inside of me, and I was just a shell of a person.
Getting out of bed, putting on clothes, faking smiles for my kids…
it felt like dragging ten dead bodies around all day and trying to hide them.
But my girls still needed breakfast. Still needed school.
Still needed me. So I moved. I carried the heavy weight, avoiding every damn mirror for weeks.
I couldn’t face my reflection or the ruins of my life.
And the guilt clung to my skin like black smoke. For being in that darkness. For not being a better mother and emotionally present. For pushing Izzy away, even if I told myself it was to protect her from the fallout, from having to choose sides.
Then fall passed. Then winter.
And by spring, piece by piece, I started rebuilding my world. Washing my hair. Opening the blinds. New journals. Real smiles.
Over the past year, I poured my heart into my business—into myself—determined to stand again.
For my girls. For me. But it wasn’t only work that saved me.
It was the little things. Saturday mornings at the ranch (not Dylan’s, of course).
Laughing with my girls as we tried to keep our horses in sync.
And Friday night kickboxing, where every punch let me release the anger, fear, and heartbreak still lodged inside.
Some nights, the darkness still crept back in.
I’d lie awake, listening to the silence, haunted by the one truth I can never speak.
Because if there’s any hope of my girls having their father, Jacob’s secret must die with me.
Even if it means letting Dylan believe I’m the one who killed his brother.
But despite the weight, I’ve learned to embrace every part of myself—the messy, the broken, the healing.
And now, after months of promotions, social media marketing, and sleepless nights building my clientele, the day I’ve dreamed of is finally here: the grand opening of Jenna’s Dream Events.
I step through the doors in a new dress, my taped-up boobs holding me together both literally and metaphorically, and for the first time in a long time, I can breathe.
For once, I’m not waiting for something to go wrong. I’m here. Single. Whole. Enough.
The space I created is all mine. Glittery balloons float above tables covered with sugary treats and champagne bottles. And photos from all my past events line the pale yellow walls. Every tiny detail reflects the woman who dared to dream again.
As I mingle with guests, Jacob approaches hand-in-hand with his stunning girlfriend, Calista. I met her before, awkward as hell at the girls’ dance recital. But she’s growing on me now.
“Hey,” Jacob and Calista say together at the same time. “Love the art,” she adds.
“Thanks… and thanks for coming,” I stutter, my stomach twisting with nostalgia, maybe even a flicker of sadness.
After all, we shared over twenty years, two daughters, a lifetime of memories.
And trust. And loyalty. And protection. And…
he killed a man for me. In his own complicated, corrupt way, he kept me safe.
He glances around the room, his girlfriend drifting toward the refreshment table. “This place looks amazing. I’m proud of you.”
His sincerity takes me by surprise. Months ago, we were barely speaking, just uncomfortable exchanges during drop-offs. Now look at us. The anger, the hurt… they’ve faded, replaced by something softer. Like peace.
“That means a lot,” I murmur. “You’ll always have a special place in my heart. No matter what happened between us. You gave me two beautiful daughters. Helped me leave an abusive relationship. Protected me. And we had some damn good years too. I hope you’ve forgiven me—and yourself.”
His voice is soft, steady. “I have. And I’m happy for you.”
“I’m happy for you too.”
As he walks away, a feeling of closure settles over me. I didn’t think I needed it. But maybe I did. Before I can dwell on it, Izzy appears, launching into a bear hug.
“Jinx! I fuggen missed you!” she squeals, her champagne breath filling the air. “Life’s been shitty without you.”
“I’ve missed you too.” I half smile. “How’ve you been?”
She pulls back, leveling me with a knowing look. “Me? Don’t dodge the question. How are you holding up? I should’ve been there more, watching Friends reruns and eating Nutella straight from the jar, not just phone calls and texts.”
“I’m sorry I went MIA,” I admit. “I wasn’t ready to talk about everything. It got messy with your brother, and I didn’t want you caught in the middle.”
She sighs, nodding. “He’s okay now. Met someone and seems happy. What about you?”
I pause, letting the question settle. “Some days are still hard, but it gets easier. When you’re lost in the fog, it feels impossible to imagine anything beyond survival. But now? Now, I get to decide.”
She tilts her head. “And what’s next?”
I grin. “I have no idea. But that’s the best part. For once, I’m not waiting for someone else to define me or tell me what I’m worth. I’m choosing me. I’m choosing to love myself the way I always wanted. Not from my father, not from Jacob or Dylan—only me."
Izzy studies me, her expression softening. “Who are you? And what have you done with my self-sacrificing best friend?”
I let out a bittersweet laugh. “I guess I got tired of waiting for someone to make me feel whole. Turns out, I was always enough. And I’m pretty damn good at taking care of myself.”
Izzy smirks, sipping champagne. “Did your therapist help with that? Because I might need her number.”
I chuckle. “It wasn’t just her. It was me deciding to stop carrying shit that wasn’t mine. Choosing to heal. Choosing to forgive myself.”
She lifts a brow. “That’s it? Just… choose?”
I shake my head, smiling. “It sounds simple. It’s not. Maybe it was years of exhaustion. Maybe it was Dylan showing me what love could be. Or maybe it was finally reaching my breaking point. But yeah, I chose to stop being afraid of happiness.”
Izzy hesitates. “You totally loved him, huh?”
My heart clenches at that truth. “I did. He saw me—really saw me. Made me feel loved, strong, beautiful, unstoppable. Like I could do anything. I learned a lot about myself through him. And I think, in some way, I’ll love him forever.”
I exhale, the weight of it all settling in. “But am I incredibly sorry for hurting people while I figured my shit out? Absolutely. And I know I can’t change the past. I can only try to move forward and do better.”
Izzy squeezes my hand. “Sounds like it’s been hell without him.”
“It has,” I admit. “Letting him go wasn’t just losing him.
It was losing the life I’d imagined with him.
The future where he looked at me every day like I was the only person in the world for him.
Where he listened like my words mattered.
And don’t even get me started on how he made me feel… physically.”
Izzy grins knowingly. “Yeah, we’re coming back to that later.”
We laugh, the heaviness slowly lifting between us.
“I’m sorry you never got your happy ending,” she murmurs, her smile slipping.
“But I did,” I say softly.
She looks at me, puzzled.
“Do I wish I could’ve kept my family together? Of course. Do I wish I’d found love with Dylan after everything? Absolutely. Is it the fairytale ending little girls dream of? Probably not,” I say, my voice steadier than I expected.
“But in the end, I found something even better—something that will stay with me forever—love within myself. And the love I have for my girls is greater than any love I could’ve gotten from Mr. Prince Charming, who doesn’t exist.
Izzy raises her glass, eyes shining. “Cheers. To that. And to your sexy taped boobs. You’ve come so far, Jenna Jinx. I’m really proud of you.”
Me too.
The rest of the night is filled with hugs, champagne, and kind wishes. As the party winds down, and people start leaving, the door unexpectedly creaks open.
And it’s him.
Dylan.
He looks exactly like I remember—but more certain of himself. Our eyes meet, and the world around us stops.
“You’re here,” I whisper, my heart slamming against my ribs.
He smiles that devastatingly warm smile. “Of course I am. I wouldn’t miss this. I’ve been rooting for you this whole time, creeping on your social media like a total stalker, counting down the days to see this for myself.”
I laugh, blinking back tears. “I can’t believe you’re actually here.”
His gaze sweeps the room, then back to me. “Wow,” his voice is in awe, “this is seriously impressive, Jenna. Exactly how I always pictured it for you.”
We fall into easy, natural conversation like no time has passed. He tells me about taking over the ranch and finally facing his past. About making peace with his father, even if the man is still a recovering asshole. And he’s still making renovation dreams come true.
I tell him about my own changes—how I finally found a place that feels like mine—a home in the country.
Close enough to the city, and close enough to Jacob for the kids.
But most importantly, close enough to myself.
And somewhere between the laughter, the stories, and everything we don’t say, I realize something.
Some endings aren’t endings at all.
Some are a beginning—we just don’t see it yet.
Dylan steps closer as I make him a plate of goodies to take home. “Remember I made you a promise last year that I’d send you to a rage room on your birthday to drink wine and smash pictures of that damn pole.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Of course I do. A little surprised you do too.”
“I remember everything about you, Jenna.” His gaze flickers to my lips, then back to my eyes. “Maybe this year… we smash things together.”
My breath catches, then steadies. He’s here. He came back.
“Yeah,” I murmur. “I’d like that.”
For the rest of my life, I think to myself. But the way he’s looking at me, he already knows that.
Just as we embrace and say our goodbyes, Izzy returns, stopping short when she spots Dylan. “You came!” Her grin is instant. “Guess you’re her new best friend while I’m off to Italy for my therapist degree. Good luck filling my stilettos.”
We all laugh.
“Just promise me a discount when my life turns into a mess again,” I joke, although it probably will.
“Only if you’re open to sex therapy,” she winks. “Because let’s face it, that’s my specialty.”
I roll my eyes, giggling. “Why am I not surprised?”
She pulls me in for another hug. “I’m gonna miss you.”
“Same,” I say, squeezing her back.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon.” She
pauses. “With more than just a diploma.”
Dylan wraps his arms around me again, resting his chin on my shoulder for a moment. “I’ll see you soon.”
As I’m left alone in silence, I sit in my new office, a space that feels like a new beginning. I take out my journal, one last time, and let the words flow out.
To my father: Your absence shaped me, but it no longer defines me. I used to wonder why I wasn’t enough, why loving me was something you could walk away from. Maybe I’ll never have those answers. Maybe I don’t need them. But I’m ready to let you go—not for you, but for me.
To my younger self, and the woman I’m becoming: For years, I lost faith.
In God. In love. In myself. I believed I was jinxed, cursed by the universe, chained to a past I couldn’t outrun.
But the universe wasn’t punishing me. It was shaping me.
Teaching me to let go—of fear, of guilt, of waiting for someone else to give me the love I needed to find in myself.
And to accept that life doesn’t always make sense.
Sometimes it’s unfair, messy, brutally unforgiving.
But I’ll survive. I always do. And I thought love would fix me. That choosing between Jacob’s safety and Dylan’s fire would make me feel whole. But love was never the answer. Freedom was. Because it was never about them. It was always about me.
Sure, I made mistakes along the way—big, reckless ones. The kind that leave scars. But scars don’t mean broken. They mean I fought. And survived. And they sure as hell don’t make me unworthy of happiness. They make me human.
So now? I choose myself. I choose peace. I choose joy. And maybe the third time’s really the charm with Dylan. But this time, I’m not waiting to be saved. I’m walking into love already whole.
With love, Jenna
Closing my journal feels like I’m shutting the door on a version of me that no longer exists. And for the first time, the future doesn’t scare me. It calls to me like a wide-open, endless sky full of possibility.
Because I know now that I was never jinxed. Never broken. Never beyond saving.
I was only ever waiting to set myself free.
Like the bird inked onto my skin, a reminder that I was never caged. I was always meant to fly. Not to escape my past, but to learn how to carry it… lighter, stronger, freer with every step forward.
What are you ready to let go of?
THE END… and the beginning.