Divorce With Benefits: A Second Chance At Love
Chapter 37: Complex Relationship

Chapter 37: Complex Relationship

Lila gave a small smile, grateful for Jerica’s understanding. "Yeah. I mean, who knows where life will take me, but I want to do things my way. I’ve seen too many people rush into relationships just to end up miserable. I don’t want that for myself."

Jerica’s heart clenched at Lila’s words. She had done exactly that—rushed into a relationship with the hope that the love would follow, that the life she envisioned would naturally fall into place. Now, years later, she felt like she was grasping at sand, trying to hold together a marriage that was slipping through her fingers.

She had loved Jared fiercely once, but now? Now, she wasn’t so sure. The distance between them had grown, growing with every passing day. His coldness, the secrets, the way he seemed to shut her out more and more—it left her feeling adrift, alone in a marriage that should have been her anchor.

Lila’s voice pulled her back to the present. "You know, you’ve always seemed so sure of yourself, Jerica. Like, you’ve got everything figured out. But it’s nice to know even you have doubts sometimes."

Jerica let out a soft laugh, though there was a hollow ring to it. "Oh, Lila," she murmured, shaking her head slightly. "Trust me, I have my fair share of doubts. More than I’d like to admit."

Lila nodded sympathetically, and for a moment, the two women sat in quiet understanding. There was no need for more words—just the shared knowledge that life, love, and the choices they made were never as simple as they seemed.

Jerica’s thoughts swirled, heavy with reflection. It wasn’t just about choosing the wrong man—perhaps it was more about realizing, too late, that she hadn’t truly known herself when she made that choice. How could she have? At twenty-five, she had believed in a version of herself that seemed simpler, clearer. Now, years later, she was starting to understand how little she had known about what she wanted, or who she wanted to be.

Her moment of introspection was interrupted when Lila, still lingering in the doorway, asked, "Jerica, how do you know Harold Braddock?"

Jerica’s mind raced, but she forced herself to stay composed. She could feel Lila’s curiosity, the subtle weight of a question that was more than surface-level. After a pause, Jerica offered the truth, though part of her hesitated. "Our families were friends, and we went to the same school," she said evenly.

"Friends with?" Lila pressed, clearly sensing there was more to the story.

Jerica’s stomach tightened. The last thing she wanted was to dive into the subject of her family, but something in Lila’s expression hinted that she already had some idea. The curiosity in her eyes was almost palpable. Jerica knew avoiding it now wouldn’t help.

"Have you heard of The Radiant Spectrum Foundation?" Jerica asked, her voice measured, though her pulse quickened as she prepared for the inevitable response.

Lila’s eyes widened, recognition flooding her face. "That foundation that focuses on educating people about autism? My roommate talked about them with so much gratitude—she got a scholarship through that foundation. I know they’ve helped a lot of students reach their dreams. And the lady who ran it... she was on TV a lot, right? Talking about autism, sharing resources for families. What was her name again? Elizabeth... she even died in a horrific car accident with her autistic son, right? Were you friends with them too?"

Jerica felt a sharp pang in her chest at Lila’s innocent question. She inhaled deeply, steadying herself against the memories that flooded back with startling intensity.

Images of her mother—brilliant, passionate, and fiercely dedicated—flashed in her mind. Dr. Elizabeth Evans had made it her life’s mission to understand autism after Jerica’s younger brother was diagnosed. She had become a prominent voice, advocating for those on the spectrum and working tirelessly to help families find resources and hope.

To the world, her mother had simply been a public figure, a name that people associated with charity and advocacy. To Jerica, she had been so much more—she hated her with every fiber of her being as long as she was alive.

"Dr. Elizabeth Evans," Jerica said, her voice quieter now, almost a whisper, as if saying it aloud might bring the pain rushing back.

Lila’s eyes grew wide, her hand slowly covering her mouth in shock. "No way," she breathed, as if the truth were too monumental to fully grasp.

Jerica nodded, her throat tight. "She was my mother."

The silence that followed was thick, weighted with surprise and understanding. Lila’s gaze softened, and the previous curiosity was replaced by something more tender—an awareness of the grief Jerica carried.

"No way," Lila repeated, her voice faint, muffled by the hand still covering her mouth. "I never knew... I mean, I saw all those news reports, but I never connected... I didn’t even know she had a daughter too."

Jerica gave a small, sad smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. "It’s not something I talk about much."

"Of course," Lila said quickly, her voice filled with empathy. "I just—wow, Jerica. I had no idea."

Jerica leaned back in her chair, the memories of her mother flooding her mind. The way her mother would take her brother, Ethan, everywhere with her, refusing to hide him away despite the looks they would get in public. The way she tirelessly fought for his inclusion in everything, determined to show the world that he was not just a diagnosis but a person with dreams and feelings.

"She was a great mother for Ethan," Jerica murmured, more to herself than to Lila. "Everything she did, she did for my brother. Ethan was her world."

Lila remained silent, giving Jerica the space to share if she wanted, but not pressing for more. Jerica appreciated that, the quiet respect for the gravity of the moment.

"And Harold..." Jerica continued, her voice a bit steadier now. "Our families were close. His parents supported my mom’s work. We were thrown into the same circles a lot."

It felt surreal to talk about this part of her life after all these years. Jerica had done her best to keep her past buried, not because she was ashamed of it, but because it hurt too much to remember. The accident that had taken her mother and brother had shattered everything. After that, her world had changed, and she had changed along with it.

"Jerica..." Lila said gently, her voice laced with sympathy. "I can’t imagine what that must have been like for you."

Jerica closed her eyes for a moment, fighting the wave of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. It wasn’t just painful to think about her mother—it was suffocating. The mere thought of Elizabeth Evans, revered by so many, was like a heavy weight on her chest, making it hard to breathe. To the world, her mother had been an icon, a saintly figure advocating for autism awareness, but to Jerica, she had been something entirely different. The resentment that festered beneath the surface for years was something she had never allowed herself to fully voice, but it was there, gnawing at her.

She hated her mother with all her being. The constant expectations, the control disguised as care, the life that had been shaped by Elizabeth’s mission to the detriment of everything else. Jerica had felt trapped for so long, crushed under the weight of her mother’s ideals and the relentless pressure to live up to a standard she never agreed to.

For Jerica, her mother’s death had been a release—an escape from the suffocating expectations that had defined her entire existence.

She had been relieved, though guilt had quickly followed. How could a daughter feel relief at her own mother’s death? It was a question that haunted her, a truth she buried deep within, but she couldn’t deny the freedom she had gained when her mother was no longer there to impose her will on Jerica’s life.

"Will you be going to the gala this year, Jerica?" Lila’s bright, curious voice cut through Jerica’s spiraling thoughts, offering a much-needed distraction. Her eyes were twinkling with excitement, clearly looking forward to the event. "How come I never saw your pictures from the gala?"