27. Chapter 27 Secrets Unraveled
Jenna: December
Christmas flew by, and the excitement of the wedding faded just as quickly.
In that time, things with Dylan got more complicated.
Months of hiding, secrets, longing and suffocating, especially during the holidays.
This time of year should be about spending it with the people you love, not pretending and aching for someone you can’t have.
The conversation at his sister’s wedding keeps poking at questions I’m not ready to face. I know Dylan isn’t the kind of man to settle down, and I might never find the courage to leave Jacob. So why can’t I stay away from him?
At my desk, I swipe through Gabriella’s wedding photos on my phone. Their smiles mock me. The bride’s joy, the groom’s admiration. It’s everything I once wanted. But now it’s slowly fading.
When I glance up, Dylan’s standing in the doorway, his smirk instantly warming me up. “Ready to plan another party, beautiful?” he says, stepping further inside. “My sister hasn’t stopped raving about how amazing you are. And I don’t disagree.”
“Still wrapping my head around the first one.” My voice sounds light, but my heart feels heavy.
Dylan sits on the edge of my desk, looking through the photos with me.
“Isn’t it kinda screwed up how I create these picture-perfect moments for couples.” I pause, fiddling with my wedding ring. “Meanwhile, my marriage is a mess. My life is—I don’t even know. And I feel like some tragic victim in a story I never wrote.”
His eyes pin me in place. “You see yourself that way? As a victim?”
I swallow hard. “Sometimes it’s hard not to. People call those who’ve experienced trauma ‘survivors,’ but that word never felt right to me. Victim fits better. My dad walked out. My ex’s abuse shattered me. It’s like this endless cycle of being used and discarded.”
I look down, my voice barely there. “But I want more than just trying to survive. I want peace. Happiness. Even if I don’t know what that looks like.” My thoughts spiral. “I just want to stop fighting, pretending…”
Figure out how to just be… He probably doesn’t understand a word I’m saying. Not sure I even do.
“You wanna know what I think?” he says, his presence grounding me.
“You’re not a victim, Jenna. Not just someone who survived.
Not defined by your past. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met.
And you deserve to find whatever it is you’re looking for.
Happiness, peace… hell, even missing socks. ” He smirks, breaking the tension.
I let out a light laugh but his words linger.
“I don’t know how to let go of who I was, what I’ve been through,” I admit.
Dylan’s hand brushes mine. His touch is warm and soothing. “Maybe stop trying to let go and decide how you want your story to go from here.”
His eyes hold mine, and I feel it again—that unbearable pull. The aching want. The fear of what it would cost.
“Dylan, I…” The words I can’t say tighten around my throat, words I can’t take back.
I love you.
His gaze sharpens. “Say it, Jenna. With your words, not your eyes.”
My breath shudders. Fuck. My face always gives away what I’m feeling.
“No, wait. Let me say this first.” His voice trembles. “I need you to know how I feel. This isn’t just… I’m not just some contractor who fixes things.” He hesitates, and my heart pounds so fast, it feels like it’s about to break in half.
I know what’s coming. And God, I want it. I want him to say it. Just once, to make it real, to prove I’m not imagining this. But I also know how risky it is. How much messier it’ll get.
The words hang there, so close I can almost taste them.
But a loud, sharp knock at the doorway abruptly chases the words away. We jolt like an earthquake just split the ground beneath us, tearing us apart.
My head whips toward the door, and my stomach plummets straight to the damn floor.
Jacob.
He’s leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, wearing his favorite designer suit and an expression I can’t read.
Dylan steps back. And the moment’s gone.
“Surprise, happy anniversary, babe!” Jacob walks in with a crooked smile, holding up a bag.
Fuck, I forgot. Even if we don’t celebrate anymore, it used to matter. But why is he here now? He’s never once shown up at my work.
“Picked up your favorite tacos. Extra guac.” His voice is warm, laced with something beneath it.
Dylan shifts uncomfortably. The tension of what almost happened is sucking in the air.
“Happy anniversary,” I say, forcing a big, fake smile. “Definitely surprised.”
Jacob grins and kisses me… on my lips… in public. That also never happens.
Dylan’s eyes burn through us.
Jacob’s gaze locks on him for several seconds before turning back to me. “Thought we could have lunch.”
I glance at Dylan. His face is dark.
“That’s… very sweet of you,” I stammer to Jacob.
Dylan takes a step back. “I should go.”
Jacob’s eyes follow him, his smile tight. “You must be the contractor with the… unique laugh.” His tone is polite, but with a sharp edge to it.
“She told you about me?” Dylan’s voice turns harsh. “Well, not anymore. Just came to drop off the final invoice.”
He doesn’t wait for a response. Just turns and walks out.
And I can’t stop him.
Later that evening, I hang out with the girls, helping them with their homework. But my mind spirals through the mess I’ve made. Christmas tree lights flicker in the background, a warm glow that once used to ease some of my nerves.
Ava sits next to me with her worksheet in her lap. “Mommy, I need help with this math problem.”
I glance at the paper, wishing someone could solve my problems as easily. Then back up to the fireplace, where the stockings dangle perfectly in a row.
Will Jacob’s stocking still hang there next year?
Will I be able to fill the tree with gifts as a single mother?
The thoughts twist my stomach. Christmas is over.
The tree needs to come down. But packing it away feels too final.
Like I’ll have no choice but to move forward, when I don’t even know where to go.
I smile, trying to push it all down. “Of course, sweetie. Let’s see.”
The numbers blur together as my mind revisits when Jacob walked into my office, my secrets on the brink of exposure. And the look on Dylan’s face when he almost said the words that probably would’ve made everything worse.
I glance at my innocent daughters, blissfully unaware of the chaos inside me. What would happen if they found out? If Jacob found out? How could I ever face them again?
Ava looks up, her little brows furrowed. “Mommy,” she whispers. “Why are you sad?”
Guilt twists in my stomach. “I’m not sad, Avie girl. Just tired.”
The truth is… I’m terrified. Of what I’ve become.
Of Jacob finding out. Of losing everything.
This was never supposed to happen. And yet, I can’t stop.
Dylan was supposed to be an escape. A friendship.
A way to feel alive again. Instead, he’s become a different kind of prison.
One I walked into willingly, then I locked the door and threw away the key myself.
After bedtime cuddles, I slip away to the bathroom, craving a hot bath and some alone time. My journal and a book rest on a tray balanced across the tub, candles flickering around me. The blank page glares at me, daring me to be honest finally. My pen hovers, before I write:
Lost again. Wandering through a dark forest. Alone.
Trapped in a cage when all I want to do is fly.
I go through the motions, but inside I’m frozen in a life I no longer recognize.
Trapped in a marriage that no longer feels like mine, unable to find the girl I used to be.
The further I bury her, the harder it becomes to bring her back.
What do I want? Who the hell am I anymore?
When will I be brave enough to decide—and finally be free?
The chill air nips at my skin as I step out of the bath. In the mirror, a stranger stares back. Hollow eyes and heavy shoulders sagging under a weight too heavy to bear.
My knees give out and I collapse onto the floor, sobs wracking through me. I press my hands to my face, thinking about my girls. What am I doing? I can’t destroy their lives. What if Jacob turns this into a war out of anger… a war I can’t win? What if I can’t provide for them?
A memory crashes in. “You’ll never be enough for anyone. Even your own father didn’t want you.” Ryan’s favorite line cuts through time like a blade. I should’ve walked away. Instead, I let his words wrap around my heart like chains.
I’m safe now , I whisper. Though the scars remain. And somehow, I’m living in a different kind of hell. Would I want my daughters to feel this way? To feel trapped in a marriage like mine?
I peel myself off the bathroom floor and wrap myself in a robe. On autopilot, I shuffle into our bedroom. A letter waits for me on my nightstand.
My heart flips as I pick it up, bracing myself. Jacob’s handwriting. Divorce papers? No… it can’t be.
Jenna,
I know I’m not great with words. And I’ve never been good at telling you how I feel. And that’s hurt you. I just never had someone show me how to love someone growing up. But I see how hard you try. How much you give to our family, even when I don't show you how much it means to me.
You deserve more, and I want to be the man who gives it to you.
I booked a trip to Bali for us after New Year's. I thought we could use some time to remember what brought us together, and I’d like to try therapy.
I’ve been so scared of ending up like my parents.
Scared that therapy will make things worse.
Scared of losing you. But the messed-up thing is, I might be losing you anyway.
Happy 10th anniversary. Love you, Jinx. Forever, Jacob
Tears blur the words. Bali. Therapy. Words I never expected from Jacob. He’s trying, and for a moment, hope flickers in my chest. I fold the letter carefully, tucking it in my drawer.
The bedroom door opens. Jacob walks in and wraps his arms around me. His grip is tight. Urgent.
“Jenna,” he murmurs. “You know you’re the most important thing in the world to me, right? Even if I don’t say it enough. The first day I met you, when you were wearing those stupid yellow onesies, I knew I needed to have you. And nothing’s changed for me. I hope you feel the same.”
Do I?
“Are you still happy with me?” he asks, dropping his arms around me. He takes a step back, his tired, dark brown eyes searching mine.
I freeze. Unsure how to answer.
“It’s a yes or no question, Jenna,” he mutters, rubbing his temples.
But it’s not. Happiness isn’t something you squeeze into a single word. It’s layered. Tangled. Complicated. I haven’t been happy for years. And I’ve told him in a thousand different ways. He just never listens. Or maybe I’ve never said it clearly enough for him to understand.
“I love you,” I say instead, hoping it will be enough. “Thanks for the letter, for Bali, and everything you said.”
“That’s not the question I asked,” he pushes, his expression filled with worry.
I know, Jacob. But saying I love you is easier than trying to explain what’s wrong.
Easier than telling you that I feel like something is still missing—that I’m lost inside the life we built.
I see how hard you’ve been trying. Cutting back at work, planning this spontaneous trip, asking about my day.
But it all feels like slapping duct tape on a cracked windshield.
“I don’t know what happiness is anymore,” I admit, exhaling. “But you know that.”
His body tenses.
“What I do know,” I say gently, pulling him in for a hug, “is that I want us to be happy again. I want to try. And I’m really excited about Bali.”
He just nods and holds me like he’s afraid I’ll vanish. And I let him.