“Elena,” she said softly. “Lunch.”
I looked up, slightly startled, then checked the time on my screen. It was past twelve.
“Oh,” I murmured. “Okay.”
We left without much conversation. For once, Jessica didn’t force small talk. We sat across from each other at a place near the office, ordered, and ate in silence. The clink of cutlery against plates, the shifting ice in our glasses—everything sounded louder than it should have.
I finished my meal without really tasting it. When my plate was empty, I stayed where I was, absently stirring the straw in my drink, watching the ice slowly melt.
Jessica watched me from across the table for a long moment. “Okay,” she said finally. “Now you talk.”
I let out a slow breath. “I’m tired, Jess.”
She didn’t interrupt.
“I’m tired of everything,” I continued. “I don’t know what Adrian wants anymore. And honestly... I don’t even know what I want.”
I went quiet for a moment.
“Lately, he’s been... possessive. Unreasonably so. He even gets jealous of Harley. And now... he’s not even talking to me at all.” I continued.
Jessica didn’t react right away. She only nodded slowly, as if arranging her thoughts.
“Contextually,” she said carefully, “his reaction is understandable. After everything that happened back then.”
She lifted one shoulder slightly. “But that doesn’t make him right. Or healthy. He’s just afraid of losing you—because, honestly... I think he already has.”
I stared at the ice in my glass, waiting for the words to stop spinning.
Jessica leaned forward slightly. “Can I say something without you immediately feeling like you need to defend yourself?” she asked gently.
I gave a small nod.
“This isn’t really about Adrian,” she said softly. “Right now, it’s about you.”
My fingers stilled around the glass.
“You’re pulling away,” she continued. “I can see it, Elena. You’ve changed. And not just with Adrian—you’ve closed yourself off from everyone.”
She took a short breath. “And this isn’t healthy. This isn’t survival. This is self-punishment.”
I lowered my gaze. “I’m still functioning,” I said quietly. “I’m still working. Taking care of Haille. Living my life. That’s what matters, right?”
Jessica nodded slowly. “I know. And that’s exactly why I’m worried.”
She looked straight at me. “Because you’re not living, Elena. You’ve learned how to live inside pain until it feels normal. Familiar.”
My chest tightened.
“And maybe,” she added more softly, “a part of you chooses that. Because as long as you stay there, you don’t have to hope for anything.”
I stirred the straw again, slower this time. “Hope just hurts more.”
Jessica nodded once. “Yeah.”
“You don’t want therapy,” she continued, without judgment. “And that’s your right. But you’re also not giving yourself any space to breathe.”
She paused.
