Divorce With Benefits: A Second Chance At Love
Chapter 40: Parallel Tracks

Chapter 40: Parallel Tracks

As the elevator doors slid shut, Jared leaned heavily against the mirrored wall, letting out a sigh. The hum of the elevator, usually a comforting lull, seemed unnervingly loud in the silence. His mind wandered back to Jerica’s face as he left—her eyes had been wide with shock, her expression tinged with disappointment. It was subtle, but unmistakable. Her lips had parted slightly, as if she had something to say but had swallowed it back down.

Did she think I’d bring her with me?

The thought gnawed at him, and he stared blankly at the elevator floor, his gaze unfocused. The way her face had fallen when he mentioned going alone... He hadn’t expected it to hurt him too.

The elevator doors dinged open, snapping him from his thoughts. He squared his shoulders, shaking off the lingering discomfort. He didn’t need that kind of distraction right now.

Not tonight.

-----

Upstairs, Jerica slumped onto their bed, her body feeling as heavy as her heart. The click of the door locking behind Jared still echoed in her mind, mocking her. The excitement she’d felt all week had evaporated, leaving behind a bitter emptiness.

Nothing has changed.

For a fleeting moment, she had allowed herself to believe it could be different, that perhaps this weekend would mark a shift, a turning point for them. But reality, cold and unyielding, had slapped her in the face. Jared had no intention of bringing her into his world, into his life.

Jerica lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. What kind of marriage was this, where they existed like parallel train tracks—so close to each other, moving in the same direction, but never truly meeting? Never crossing. They were two people bound by the same structure, the same vows, but somehow always running side by side, never converging, never touching.

What kind of marriage was that?

The thought tightened like a fist around her chest. They were like tracks, always traveling forward but toward separate destinations. She had imagined their lives would be intertwined, woven together like the fabric of their love.

But instead, she felt like a distant observer, watching Jared speed along his own path, his ambitions and career pulling him further and further away from her. He didn’t want her in his world. He wanted her in her lane, quiet, untouched, while he navigated his own.

Jerica’s eyes prickled with tears, but she refused to let them fall. It was easier to pretend she didn’t care. Easier to harden her heart to the distance between them than to keep hoping for something that clearly wasn’t coming.

Meanwhile, Jared stepped out of the elevator and was ushered through the side entrance of the grand hotel hosting the gala. The contrast between the quiet, reflective ride down and the vibrant, bustling scene before him was almost jarring. He took in the glittering crowd from the side door—elegantly dressed celebrities and public figures mingling beneath crystal chandeliers, cameras flashing on the red carpet outside.

He glanced briefly at the red carpet, where the event’s most glamorous guests posed for the paparazzi, their smiles perfectly practiced, their poise immaculate. This year’s attendees were just as high-profile as the previous years, if not more. The glitterati of the legal world, actors, philanthropists—all the heavyweights were here, and Jared felt a familiar knot of tension settle in his chest.

This wasn’t just a gala; it was a battlefield of power plays and subtle maneuvering, where every conversation held the potential for advancement or ruin.

This is where I need to be, Jared reminded himself, though his earlier thoughts of Jerica lingered like a shadow in the back of his mind.

He had worked hard to be in these rooms, to stand among these people. He didn’t come from wealth like Jerica had—he had built everything he had through grit and determination. The feeling of being an outsider never left him, though, and in moments like these, it gnawed at him.

The shiny, perfect lives of the people around him were worlds away from his own upbringing. That’s what had drawn him to Jerica in the first place—her simplicity, her warmth. But at the same time, her inherited wealth, her family’s legacy, had become a silent wedge between them.

He thought of the summer home again, of his previous plan to spend the weekend there. He had shot it down without thinking, his mind too preoccupied with the upcoming gala. He told himself it was because of work, because he didn’t have time for leisurely weekends.

But deep down, there was more to it.

Jared shook off the thought and made his way deeper into the event. He needed to focus on the task at hand. This was a night to make connections, to prove he belonged in these circles.

But the image of Jerica’s disappointed face lingered in the back of his mind, stubborn and persistent, like a memory he couldn’t quite shake.

Jared’s eyes swept the grand hall, scanning the sea of well-dressed attendees for the person he’d been hoping to meet all evening. He knew someone as important as that wouldn’t show up early—it wasn’t their style. People like them always made an entrance, fashionably late, to remind everyone else of their worth.

He sighed, feeling the weight of the evening settle over his shoulders. There was still time to work the room, though. His eyes landed on the local congressman, a good enough person to start with. He straightened his jacket, ready to move in, but before he could take a step, a familiar and unwelcome voice reached him.

"Petrovski!" Harold’s voice broke through the polite hum of conversation, his tone laced with a smirk. Jared tensed instinctively as a hand clamped onto his arm.

"Braddock," Jared replied through gritted teeth, slapping Harold’s arm with enough force to make it clear his greeting wasn’t warm. He didn’t bother to smile. Why pretend with Harold?

Harold’s smirk only deepened, his eyes glinting with amusement as if he relished the tension between them. "Where’s your wife?" he asked, his words pointed, aimed directly at Jared’s weak spot. It was the kind of barb Harold loved to toss, especially when he knew it would sting.