It’s been over a month since the accident, but somehow, I’m still trapped in limbo. Izzy calls it Stuck Street. I call it purgatory. Because even though time has passed, every time I close my eyes, I’m right back in that cold, sterile room. Back with Jacob. Back with the lies and the confusion.
I thought the accident would be the push I needed. That it would make things clear. That I’d stop making excuses and finally make a damn choice.
But it hasn’t. I’m still here.
Jacob’s voice rings in my ears.Who are you talking about?
I still remember the way he looked at me like he knew. I remember the bullshit story I told—that it was the masked man from my nightmares. But he didn’t believe me. I saw it in hiseyes. Yet, he didn’t push. He just watched me, waiting for me to break first.
And I watched him telling his own lies. He said the flashes weren't real. That my concussion was messing with my head and I was overthinking.
But I guess we all have skeletons, demons, secrets, whatever you wanna call it if it makes it easier to carry. Some eventually claw their way out. Others stay hidden. And some… you pretend not to see, even when they’re staring you straight in the face.
Something’s different, though. Yes, we’re still separated. Living in two homes. Yes, we're still in counseling. Jacob even started therapy on his own. Yes, I’m still torn between two worlds. But the voice in my head? The one I’ve silenced for years? It won’t shut up anymore. It’s only getting louder. Screaming at me to leave him. To finally do something. To stop living on fucking autopilot, paralyzed by the fear of making the wrong choice.
And it’s not about Dylan. It never was. Even if he’d never walked into my life, I’d still feel this way. Starving for more. But now, everything is more complicated. Things with Dylan are just as messed up as my marriage. We still see each other sometimes. But it’s different. A quick coffee in his truck. A few texts here and there. The quiet kind of distance that somehow hurts worse than losing him completely.
And God, it hurts. But maybe time away from each other is necessary. I understand why he’s pulled back. Nothing’s really changed for me. Not yet. And he’s not wrong to protect himself. I still need to sort my shit out. And I can’t keep jumping from one relationship straight into another. Not without knowing who I am on my own.
Jacob stirs behind me as I sit on the edge of the bed, my journal in my lap. The girls are at my mom’s tonight, and somehow, I ended up staying overnight again.
“What are you doing at two a.m.?” he mutters. “Come back to bed.”
I squeeze my pen. “I’m writing… reading… anything to help with the nightmares.”
He exhales slowly. “Still?”
I glance at him. The dim light softens his face, making him look younger, like when I first married him.
“Since the accident… they’ve been different,” I whisper. “Not as scary, but… clearer. Like my subconscious is trying to tell me something. You sure there’s nothing you want to tell me?”
Jacob stiffens. “Jenna, please. Let it go. None of it was real.” His voice stays eerily calm. “You hit your head. Go to sleep.”
If only it were that easy. Instead, I stay up, reading the words I can write but never say out loud.
I always thought I had to choose between Jacob and Dylan—that peace meant making a decision. But it’s about choosing me. Jacob gave me safety. Dylan gave me passion. But neither of them gave me the freedom I’ve been craving. And maybe that’s what I’ve been chasing.
I spent way too many years trying to fit myself into the imaginary framework of my marriage. Trying to squeeze a square peg into a round hole. But the pieces don’t fit. Maybe they never really did.
What if I was never meant to find someone to complete me? What if I was meant to complete myself.For years, I let fear keep me in place. Fear of being alone. Fear of not knowing who I am without someone to define me.
But today, I realized I don’t need all the answers. I just have to move, one step at a time. Even if I don’t know where I’m going, even if I’m terrified. Because staying still is no longer an option.
The next morning, I meet Izzy for coffee and my usual sweet tea across from work.
“Alright,” she says, sinking into her chair. “Spill it. What’s eating you? We already know who’s not eating me anymore. But let’s not talk about Donald.”
I exhale, rubbing my temples. “I can’t stop going in circles. I know I’m unhappy. I know your brother’s not a bad guy, and he loves me in his own way, and yet…”
“And yet, you’re still thinking about leaving him. Doesn’t that tell you something?” she finishes for me.
My stomach knots. “It tells me I’m a terrible person. Selfish for even thinking about breaking up our family and hurting my kids.”
“Your kids need a happy mom,” she counters. “Aren’t you tired of going in circles on the same damn ride?”
I blink back tears. “I’m exhausted. Just because I haven’t gotten off, doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”
Izzy sighs, taking a sip of her coffee. “Yeah, well, holding on is harder than letting go. Don’t waste another ten years being unhappy, wondering what if. And if you’re waiting for Jacob to turn into a massive jerk so you feel justified in leaving, maybe your answer is already staring you in the face.”
