Divorce With Benefits: A Second Chance At Love
Chapter 68: His Past

Chapter 68: His Past

Jerica’s voice was soft, almost reflective, as she answered. "I was... not alone," she murmured, looking somewhere beyond the room, as if her words were reaching back through the years.

"There were other kids like me there, and eventually... we learned to have fun together." She paused, her voice gentling as she added, "It was tough at first. I didn’t make any friends; didn’t even try to. I was just this kid with walls up, pushing everyone away."

A faint smile touched her lips as she thought of her time at boarding school. And then, the memories came back more vividly. "Harold... Harold was the one who broke through," she said, her voice warm with affection as she recalled the boy who’d managed to shatter her defenses.

"He used to tease me relentlessly. I thought I’d go crazy. One week, he hid every single one of my coats. I was punished for not wearing the proper uniform, and I was so mad I went right back and slapped him. Thought it’d knock some sense into him," she chuckled, the warmth of the memory lighting up her face. "But it didn’t stop him. He just clung to me all the more."

As her voice trailed off, Jerica realized she had been talking about Harold more than she intended. She didn’t intend to talk about her ex to her husband that too with such admiration. But then she shirked off that odd feeling. She didn’t lie. Harold played a very important role in her childhood. She had a select few who were everything to her. She was not hesitant to talk to her husband about them.

It was better that he knew.

She glanced down at Jared, catching the faintest hint of something unreadable in his expression. The way he was holding her hand, kissing her knuckles, his lips lingering there as though in quiet contemplation. There was a warmth in his gaze, but also a shadow of something more, something she couldn’t quite place.

"He must have been very important to you," he said, his voice low, a hint of tension coiled beneath the words.

Jerica hummed softly, a sound that was part agreement, part acknowledgment. She sensed, perhaps mistakenly, a touch of jealousy in his tone. But it was Jared; he wouldn’t get jealous, she told herself.

Still, something about his question hung in the air between them, his fingers now wrapped around hers, his thumb brushing idly over her knuckles as if lost in thought.

"Is he still?" Jared asked, his voice softer this time, as though he was bracing himself for her answer. "Important to you?"

Jerica paused, choosing her words carefully. "Not... to my present or future," she said, keeping her tone light yet sincere. Thinking back, she felt nothing but gratitude for Harold. He had helped her through a time she couldn’t have faced alone, but when they parted ways, she had found the strength to stand on her own.

The tension in Jared’s hold seemed to ease with her words, though his fingers kept moving over her hand, thoughtful and absent minded. He seemed lost in his own world, watching their joined hands with an expression she couldn’t quite read. His fingers traced gentle circles against her skin as if grounding himself in her presence.

"I wish..." he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I wish we knew each other when we were kids."

Jerica felt her heart clench at the quiet yearning in his words. She tilted her head, watching him closely, and the depth of emotion on his face caught her off guard. He had never expressed something like this before. She took in the way his gaze was fixed on her hand, a hint of boyish vulnerability hidden beneath his usual stoicism.

Silence settled over them, thick and comforting. It was something new, this kind of intimacy—a quiet communion, the kind of closeness she had never known she wanted, but now that it was here, it filled a void she hadn’t realized existed. They stayed that way, wrapped up in each other’s presence, letting the unspoken understanding between them take root.

After a long moment, Jared broke the silence. "I thought... growing up without a father was worse," he murmured, his voice laced with a bittersweet tone.

She could feel the ache behind his words, and she stayed quiet, running her fingers through his hair as he continued.

"You had it tough," he said, almost to himself, his fingers tracing a gentle line up her knee. His words held a note of admiration but also a touch of self-reflection. "And yet... you came out of it... better." He sighed, a soft breath that seemed to carry years of unspoken thoughts.

Jerica chuckled softly, brushing off his concern. "I didn’t have it that tough. I had all the money I could need and then some." She tried to keep her voice light, reassuring. "And you turned out pretty decent yourself," she teased.

"Just decent?" he asked, turning to face her with a hint of a smile that softened his usually serious features.

"Barely," she replied, reaching up to press her palm gently to his forehead. He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch with a quiet hum of contentment.

A soft silence fell between them, filled only by the gentle rhythm of their breathing. After a moment, Jerica asked, "You... you grew up alone, didn’t you? You had to... be strong, take care of yourself, with no one to depend on. No one to ask for help."

Jared let out a deep breath, voice softer, almost wounded. "Is that really what you think of me?"

The words hung in the air between them as he adjusted himself to lie more comfortably on her lap, his head cradled in the hollow between her thigh and hip. He still wouldn’t look at her, his gaze fixed somewhere in the distance, his expression unreadable.

Her throat tightened. "That’s how you behave. Even today, you..." She faltered, the words catching in her throat. She didn’t want to bring up the hurt, not now, not when there was finally a sliver of warmth between them.

His head turned slightly, eyes locking onto hers, intense yet softened by something unspoken. "Do you want to know my past?"