Page 46 of Jinxed Hearts

No, I wouldn’t. But the answer doesn't change anything.

“Whatcha doing, Mommy?” Ava’s voice pulls me back to the present. She stands in the doorway, Jacob standing next to her.

“Oh, hey. I didn’t know you were awake,” I say, startled, and gesture toward my knee. “Mommy just… fell down, but I’m okay,” I lie, making up an excuse for my mirror chant.

Jacob studies me, stone-faced. “What’s up with you?” His tone is sharp.

“Nothing.” I plaster on a smile. “I’m fine.”

His eyes hold my gaze, daring me to admit what I won’t.

Why does every step I take toward healing and figuring out who I am feel like it pulls us apart?

“I’ll kiss your boo-boo and make you all better,” Ava says, kissing my knee before leaving.

I rummage through my makeup bag, pulling out my favorite mascara and begin applying it.

Jacob sighs loudly, rubbing his neck. “Are you sure you’re okay? Because honestly, I have no idea what version of you I'm coming home to anymore. Happy Jenna? Broken Jenna? ‘I hate my job’ Jenna? Or maybe ‘I want to travel to Africa and learn Spanish' Jenna? Who am I even married to these days?”

I freeze, mascara wand suspended mid-air. His question lingers as I take in his reflection. Crisp dress shirt, neatly knotted tie, meticulously combed dark hair. Always put together. Always controlled. Meanwhile, I stand here in an oversized coffee-stained sweater and my hair in a half-assed ponytail. I feel like a mess around him all the time. Like I should try harder.

But with Dylan, I don’t have to. He laughs at my mess instead of trying to fix it. HisI don’t give a fuck attitudeis inspiring. And the way he wears his sweatpants and that baseball cap...

I push the thought away, barely containing my frustration. “I’m sorry my different personalities don’t fit into your carefully curated life, Dylan.”

The name escapes before I can stop it.

Jacob stiffens. He blinks. Once. Twice.

And the name just hangs there, like a live grenade.

“I mean—Jacob,” I choke out the words, panic clawing at my chest.

What the hell did I just do?

I open my mouth. This is the moment. A sign I can’t keep lying. But nothing comes out.

His expression doesn’t change. No flinch, no flicker of emotion. Just silence. Thick. Heavy. And scary as hell.

“Sorry, I was… I was thinking about work,” I mumble, reaching for my hairbrush like nothing happened. “And my boss messaged me about Dylan… signing some contracts for more renovations.”

He scoffs. “Bull-fucking-shit!” His voice slices through the air. “You called me… your husband… another man’s name!”

My pulse spikes. Holy. Fuck.

“Tell me the truth,” he breathes heavily. Fists clenched. “Are you having an affair?”

He tugs at his tie like it’s strangling him, and his gaze burns straight through me in the mirror. “Are you…” His voice breaks. “Are you fucking this guy?”

My breath stops, and I freeze, watching him unravel. I can’t break his heart.

“No… God, no,” I plead, unable to look at him. “I haven’t… I swear I’m not… I would never.” The words stick in my throat, and sound pathetic even to me.

“Jesus Christ. You called me another man’s name in my house. Our house. And you’ve been different. Distant.” He rips off his tie, slinging it to the floor. “Who the hell is Dylan? And isn't it fucking weird how you’re suddenly the one obsessed with work?”

“Oh, so now the tables have turned?” I snap, my own defense kicking in. “How does it feel, Jacob? Always being third. Work first, the kids second, and me—always last.”

The second it leaves my lips, I wish it hadn’t.