Page 17

KAREN

A month had passed since Karen moved in with Jett, and everything that had once felt like a dream now hovered precariously on the edge of unraveling.

It was as though life had handed her a blank check—an open invitation to begin again, to write a new chapter in a new place with a man who had once made her heart race—but somehow, it all felt hollow.

The reality of their life together was nothing like she had imagined.

If their relationship had been a ship, it had already struck the iceberg and was slowly taking on water.

She could feel the weight of failure pressing on her chest, subtle at first, like the ache of unshed tears or words left unspoken.

The small cracks in their foundation had turned into jagged fractures.

She had always prided herself on being independent and capable.

So when Jett had asked her to come with him to pick out a car, her immediate reaction wasn’t excitement or partnership—it was resistance.

She wasn’t going to be some ‘helpless little wife’ who couldn’t make her own choices. So she told him no.

He left to meet his new team, full of excitement and possibility, and she went out alone.

She bought herself a car— a sleek, flashy new Kia that gleamed under the morning sun in their apartment complex’s parking lot.

It was bold and shiny and hers. But when he saw it, the disappointment in his eyes was unmistakable.

He hadn’t shouted. He hadn’t argued. But the silence between them stretched like a chasm.

That silence only deepened.

He asked her out to dinner one evening, his voice hopeful, but she had already numbed her feelings with a rushed ten-pack of chicken nuggets and a chocolate milkshake from McDonald's. It hadn’t even been hunger—it was habit. She was full physically, but emotionally starved. So she declined again.

He asked her to a hockey game—their first home game of the season. She declined.

He invited her to a team meet-and-greet, his eyes lighting up as he said he couldn’t wait for her to meet everyone. She had stiffened. “How many people will be there?” she asked, already bracing herself.

“About a hundred,” he’d said.

And with that, she declined once more.

She didn’t hate the town—they were in a beautiful, quaint part of the world.

In fact, she was falling in love with it.

She’d wandered through cobblestone streets that seemed pulled from another century, browsed gift shops nestled inside buildings from the 1700s, and marveled at the careful restoration of old structures still in progress.

She’d already spent hours at the library, visited the zoo and the museum, walked the walls of the old fort, and taken a guided tour.

That day, she found herself sitting in the hushed stillness of St. Anne de Beaupré.

The air inside the cathedral was cool and scented faintly with incense.

She stared at the intricate stained glass, the majestic arches above, and the way the afternoon light bathed the pews in color.

The tour guide’s words still echoed in her head, telling stories of faith and miracles.

But as she sat there in the silence, a painful realization wrapped around her heart.

Jett had stopped asking.

There had been no more invitations to games, no more casual dinner suggestions, no more attempts to bring her into his world.

The coffee dates they once joked about hadn’t happened.

She had never been to the arena, had never even seen him play.

The first game had come and gone, and she hadn’t been there to cheer for him. She hadn’t been there at all.

Now he was on a plane, flying out of town with the team—to who-knows-where—and she wasn’t included. A team text thread confirmed what she had already suspected: the plane had carried not just the players, but their families, too.

But not her.

She stared at her phone, her fingers hovering over the screen. Her chest felt tight with regret, her heart aching with the weight of everything she hadn’t said and hadn’t done. She had kept him at arm’s length again and again. He had tried, and she had pushed him away.

We still need to establish what day we are going on our coffee dates.

She hit send, then winced. It sounded so impersonal, so cool.

So wrong. There was no softness, no tenderness, nothing that hinted at how much she missed him.

Because despite everything, she did. She missed the way he smiled when he looked at her, the warmth of his hand in hers, the way his voice softened when he teased her.

He was still sleeping on the couch.

She was still in the bedroom.

They were living under the same roof, but felt like strangers to each other.

Karen’s fingers trembled slightly as she typed again.

Who are you playing tonight?

This time, her breath caught in her throat as she sent the message.

It was time to stop hiding. Time to stop pretending she didn’t care.

Because the truth was, she cared deeply.

She just didn’t know if it was too late to show it – and her heart skipped a beat as she saw three dots appear on the cell phone screen, indicating that he was texting her back.

Who’s this?

Funny, Jett – it’s Karen.

I don’t know a Karen. I avoid Karens at all cost…

But I’m a huge fan of my wife texting me.

It’s your wife.

Karen chuckled, texting him back the words he was obviously wanting her to say. If he wanted to claim her, to have her say she was his wife, then she would. It was a weird sort of flirting that seemed to fit him – and strangely – her too.

Hi Nutella – we are playing Seattle tonight.

Is that a tough team?

Yeah, but I got this… are you gonna watch the game?

Yes

She typed those three letters immediately, refusing to tell him ‘No’ again. If they were going to have a relationship, it was time to start opening up and trusting that he wasn’t picking on her, wasn’t trying to bait her, but rather flirting in his own weird way.

Really?

Yes – I think it’s about time I learn something about hockey.

I think I’m gonna faint…

Har har har.

Well, maybe you could do the whole touristy thing with me, and we could get coffee together when I get back… if you want to?

I would love that.

Wow – Nutella, we have a date.

Look at us go!

She was smiling, looking down at her phone, and chuckling at their weird yet strange conversation.

It seemed so much easier to text him, knowing she could hide behind the screen and not have to worry about his gorgeous smiles, those flirty winks, or the itch to rub his shoulders when he starts shrugging sometimes.

Wanna know a secret?

I’d love to know one.

I miss you – and wish you were here.

Karen felt her heart flutter wildly, unsure how to respond without sounding too mushy, too easy, because they still had a long way to go in their relationship.

Maybe next time?

Absolutely. I’ve gotta go, Nutella. They are loading up the plane, and I don’t know how long I’ll have reception. Can I text you when we land?

I’ll be waiting.

Can we do that weird X’s and O’s boyfriendy/girlfriendy-thing…

Yanno, even if we’re married?

I’d ‘X’ you.

Heck, I’d ‘O’ you anytime…

Hello?

Well, we’ve only really ‘Oh’d’ in this relationship. You’ve hugged me once – and kissed me about the same amount of times.

Maybe we can fix that on our coffee date?

XOXO

Maybe we can… XOXO

Smiling, Karen sighed in relief, the tension in her shoulders easing for the first time in days—maybe even weeks.

The weight she’d been carrying, invisible but ever-present, began to lift.

Maybe… just maybe, it wasn’t too late for them.

For the two of them to find their way back to something real, something better.

Her heart ached with the quiet hope blooming inside her chest, and the ache told her just how badly she wanted this—how much she’d always wanted it, even when she pretended she didn’t care.

She realized then, in the quiet stillness of the moment, how deeply she longed for him to look at her in a way he hadn’t in a long time—not just with familiarity, but with admiration.

With love. With pride. And maybe if she wanted that, really wanted to matter in his world, she had to stop waiting for him to see her differently and start becoming someone worth truly seeing.

Not because she wasn’t already enough—but because she had buried pieces of herself so deep under layers of bitterness and self-doubt that even she had stopped looking.

She thought back to the way he had gently suggested she stay home, the way he had made it sound like a choice—not a command, not an expectation.

Maybe he hadn’t been trying to clip her wings.

Maybe he’d been trying to open a door she didn’t even know she needed.

A door that led into his world. His chaotic, loud, passionate world of locker room banter and icy arenas and the strange, fiercely loyal brotherhood that came with it.

It wasn’t about “the man holding down his little woman.” She scoffed at the idea now, the thought of it almost laughable in the face of what she was beginning to see.

He didn’t want her to prove anything. Not to him.

Not to anyone. He just wanted her to feel like she belonged—like she was wanted there, just as she was.

He was giving her space to breathe, to choose, to become, and to be.

And with that gift came the freedom to step closer, to share in his passions, to join in the laughter, to find her place among the nicknames and the inside jokes of his team. His family.

She had been dragging her feet, scared of being overlooked. Scared of being irrelevant. But no more. Not anymore.