Divorce With Benefits: A Second Chance At Love
Chapter 21: Untouched

Chapter 21: Untouched

Jerica’s hand shot up, a firm barrier between them, her voice cutting through the tension with steely resolve. "Harry, enough!"

Harold’s eyes, wide and desperate, locked onto hers. For a fleeting second, it was as if he truly saw her—not the girl he had once loved, but the woman she had become. A woman who had survived without him.

His shoulders sagged, the intensity in his gaze dissolving into something hollow. He slumped back into his seat, his grip on her arm loosening as though he had finally run out of fight. Harold looked broken, his defeat apparent.

Jerica inhaled sharply, straightening her back, trying to calm the wild thudding of her heart. Words felt unnecessary now. The truth had settled between them like a wall—there was no going back to whatever thread Harold had been clinging to.

"Goodbye, Harold," she said again, her voice quieter, softer, as though releasing the last of her ties to him. Without a backward glance, she opened the door and stepped into the cool night air.

The cold breeze hit her face like a soothing balm, cutting through the suffocating heat of their interaction. She pulled her coat tighter around her, taking a deep breath, trying to calm the swirl of emotions that still clung to her chest.

She didn’t need to look back to know Harold was still sitting there, staring after her. She could feel his gaze, heavy and lingering, but she didn’t stop.

Her heels clicked against the pavement, each step bringing a strange mix of relief and heartache. When she reached the corner, Jerica hesitated. The wet streets shimmered under the dim glow of city lights, the distant hum of traffic grounding her to the present.

For a moment, she let herself stand there, hoping the night air could clear the storm raging inside her, her hand unconsciously cradling her belly.

Tonight had been too much—Harold’s desperation, Jared’s growing distance, and the overwhelming weight of it all. And yet, it was Harold’s question that had pierced through her the hardest.

Why didn’t she have children yet?

The answer, unspoken, lingered heavily in her mind.

When the familiar glow of her apartment building came into view, Jerica’s chest tightened. This was home, but it didn’t feel like the safe haven it used to be. Not anymore.

Her mind flashed back to the image of Jared with that woman—beautiful, confident, standing too close to him. Tonight, after everything, she didn’t know where she stood in Jared’s world or if she even belonged there anymore.

But where else could she go?

-----

Inside the apartment, Jared’s hand hovered over the closet door, heart pounding. His mind was racing, dread curling in his gut. She couldn’t be planning to leave him. Not Jerica. Not after everything.

Just as his fingers grazed the handle, the sound of the front door unlocking broke the silence. Jerica was home.

His breath hitched, a knot of hope and fear tightening in his chest.

-----

Jerica stepped inside, the soft click of the door closing behind her sending an unsettling quiet through the apartment. She stood still for a moment, gathering herself. When she looked up, Jared was there—leaning against the wall, his eyes fixed on her as if he had been waiting.

Her heart stuttered. She hadn’t expected him to be here, not like this.

"Late night?" Jared’s voice was calm, too calm, but his eyes... they were guarded, hard to read, as if searching for something in her.

Jerica exhaled, dropping her keys onto the counter. She couldn’t meet his gaze. "I didn’t realize I needed to report my whereabouts," she replied, her voice sharper than she intended. Exhaustion weighed down her words, bitterness slipping through before she could stop it.

Jared raised an eyebrow, folding his arms across his chest. "That’s not what I meant."

"Well, that’s how it sounded," she shot back, her fingers rubbing at her temples. She could feel the tension building, thick and suffocating, but she was too drained to care.

For a moment, Jared’s face flickered with something—frustration? Hurt? She couldn’t tell. He shifted his stance but said nothing, the silence between them stretching uncomfortably. It was as though the air in the room was thick with all the unsaid things, the words they were both too afraid to confront.

Jared’s voice softened, breaking the tension in the air. "Jerica... I waited for you."

Her breath caught, eyes darting up to meet his, searching for meaning. "Waited for me?"

There was a flicker of something in his expression, but it vanished quickly like a shadow passing over his face. He let out a deep breath, his posture deflating.

Jerica couldn’t shake the image of him with that other woman, picking her up, dressed for dinner, the ease with which he smiled around her. It gnawed at her, the sense that he’d been absent from their marriage for far longer than she could bear to admit. And now, as she stood before him, trying to understand where they stood, she found it hard to summon any care.

"I had dinner with Harold Braddock," she said, her voice deliberately casual as she watched him closely. She wanted to see something in his face—anything—but there was no reaction. No flicker of jealousy, no hint of discomfort. Just the same distant calm.

She should’ve expected it by now, given how cold he had been lately. But somehow, it still stung.

She shifted on her feet, feeling the weight of the space between them. "He wanted to catch up."

Jared’s expression didn’t change. It was as if her words had floated right past him, unbothered by the mention of another man’s name. A dull ache thudded in her chest, a familiar sense of disappointment. She forced herself to continue, even though she wasn’t sure why she was telling him this.

Maybe she wanted to get a rise out of him, maybe she wanted him to care—or maybe she was just grasping for any sort of connection.

"We used to be close, Harold and I," she said, turning away from him and walking toward the bedroom. "I broke up with him after my parents died. I don’t think I ever told you that, did I?"

She stopped at the door and glanced back at him. He was still standing there, hands loosely at his sides, his face unreadable. His silence was deafening.

"We used to date, you know," she added, her voice quieter now. "Before all of this, we practically grew up together."

There was a small, forced smile tugging at her lips, but it felt hollow. She had expected this conversation to stir something in him, but he remained untouched by it all.

Jared blinked slowly, and when he finally spoke, it was like a punch to the gut. "Are you hungry? Do you want dinner?"