My mom watches me, eyes flickering between worry, anger, fear, maybe heartbreak. “Do you think that’s love, Jenna?” Her voice shakes. “A man who helps you tear your family apart. What kind of man does that? What kind of woman?”
“Fine. Go ahead. Call me a whore. A liar. A cheating wife who deserves to be alone,” I mutter, lowering my voice as I glance around. A waitress hesitates mid-step, then quietly backs away to another table. “But what if I told you I already am? I’ve been alone for years, standing at the edge of a cliff, acting like I’m fine. But I’m not. And I’m terrified that one day I’ll either fall off… or have to jump. And I don’t know which is worse.”
Her face softens, but she stays quiet, listening, watching me spiral.
“I’m not asking for forgiveness,” I continue, my voice breaking. “But I can’t change what happened. And please, stop looking at me like I’m a monster for being human.”
Her eyes fill with tears, but they don’t match mine. “Then leave Jacob. Stop lying to him, to yourself, to everyone around you. Or end things with Dylan,” she continues, unflinching. “But you don’t get to have both. That’s not love, Jenna. That’s selfishness.”
“You think it’s easy? To break my kids’ hearts? Walk away from a ten-year marriage? Choose to be a single mom and struggle how you did?” My voice wavers. “I don’t know how to make it right without destroying everything. Without destroying myself because that’swhatyouthink I should do.”
“I never had a choice, Jenna. You do. You’re choosing this. You’re choosing to do this to your family, to…” I don’t give her a chance to finish.
“Don’t judge me,” I cry out. “Not until you know what it’s like to love a man who doesn’t know how to love you back. You have no idea what I’ve been going through, Mom. You never saw how lonely I was or how hard I’ve been trying to fix my marriage.”
Her gaze doesn’t falter. And I can’t bear to see the disappointment in her eyes, the judgment I’ve been avoiding for so long. But then I feel her hand on mine, and her eyes are filled with something I didn’t expect. Understanding.
“I’m not judging you. I just didn’t know.” Her voice is softer now. “I only want what’s best for you and your girls.”
Her words twist inside me. “I’m sorry for everything. For all the lies,” I exhale slowly, trying to pull myself together. “It’s been so fucking lonely carrying it every day. The guilt. The shame. I didn’t realize how heavy it had gotten… until now.”
She slides out of her seat and sits next to me. Then pulls me into a hug I never saw coming. “You’re not alone,” she says, holding me through my pain. “Not anymore.”
And for a brief, fragile moment, I believe her.
But just as the air starts to feel safe to breathe again… she breaks me.
“Your father, Jenna…” She pauses, her expression hardening. “He’s—” she swallows, “I got a call.”
“Just say it,” I push, my stomach twisting inside out.
She turns away, unable to look at me. “I’m still his emergency contact.” Her fingers tremble as she brushes tears away. “I wanted to tell you. I swear, but—”
Something hot and bitter rises in my throat. “Say it,” I repeat.
“He got into a car accident. He’s dead.” She spits it out like it’s poison.
The walls close in and my body turns to ice. “When?”
“A few months ago. Before your birthday.”
Silence.
The world stops. My mind and body are swallowed by numbness. “You… you didn’t think it mattered to tell me my own father died?”
Her voice is clipped, firm. “He was never in your life, Jenna. He wasn’t your father, just a man who walked away. He doesn’t deserve that title or your sympathy. And I didn’t want the last thing he gave you to be grief.”
My fingers dig into my palms and something inside me snaps. “So you decided what’s best for me?” My voice shakes, rage burning beneath my skin. “You read my mind and knew what I wanted?”
She crosses her arms. “I was trying to protect you.”
“Protect me?” My voice rises. “From what? Myself?”
She flinches and wipes her eyes. While my mind spins, grasping for something. Anything to make sense of this. But there’s nothing. No tears. No words. No closure.
Only another open wound.
And maybe that’s the worst part. Not that he’s gone. Not that she kept it from me. But that I’ll never know why he left.
