Divorce With Benefits: A Second Chance At Love
Chapter 86: He Opened Up; Just A Little

Chapter 86: He Opened Up; Just A Little

Jared smiled faintly, his hand slipping beneath her chin to gently tilt her face toward his. "You’re my type," he said simply, his voice calm yet unwavering.

It wasn’t a grand declaration, nor was it wrapped in flowery prose—it didn’t need to be. The quiet sincerity of his words carried more weight than any elaborate confession ever could. It was the truth, raw and unvarnished, and that was enough.

As he spoke, his mind wandered to the early days of their relationship. He could still recall the intoxicating rhythm of their courtship—the beautifully chaotic dance of push and pull that had kept him on his toes. Jerica had a way of keeping him guessing, making him chase her without ever feeling lost.

Even now, years later, she hadn’t lost her touch. A glance, a smile, the faintest brush of her fingers—she still held the power to unravel him. He was helplessly, irrevocably hers, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Jerica leaned in, pressing her lips to his in a kiss that spoke volumes. It wasn’t fiery or desperate, but something far deeper—a quiet reassurance that filled the spaces where words fell short.

She sometimes wrestled with her own insecurities, wondering if she was truly enough for him, if she was the right one. But Jared had a way of chasing those doubts from her mind. In moments like this, she didn’t have to question it—she could feel it. His devotion was as steady and tangible as the beat of his heart beneath her hand.

Jared pulled back slightly, his gaze softening as he spoke again. "Another thing about the glasses," he said, his voice quiet but steady, "is that I get to hide behind them."

Jerica blinked, tilting her head as curiosity danced in her eyes. "Hide?" she asked, her confusion plain, her brows knitting together.

"Yeah," Jared said with a faint, almost self-deprecating chuckle. "Behind the lenses, I feel... less visible. A little less open. People don’t see everything, and sometimes, that’s easier."

Her expression softened, the teasing glint in her eyes giving way to a tender understanding. She had felt that too. Although she couldn’t articulate it the way he did, thinking about it, that was one of the reasons she liked wearing glasses.

Jerica leaned closer, her forehead brushing his as her whispered words hung in the air. "You don’t have to hide from me," she repeated, her voice steady but tinged with quiet vulnerability.

She meant it, but part of her couldn’t ignore the truth she had wrestled with for so long—Jared was still hiding pieces of himself from her. She could feel it in the small pauses, the subtle shifts in his demeanor when certain topics arose. Was it a lack of trust? Or something deeper?

Jared’s faint smile softened as he met her gaze, his eyes steady and warm. "I know," he said, his voice low and resolute. There was no hesitation in his tone, and the sincerity in his eyes was undeniable. "You’re the one person I never feel the need to hide from."

Jerica studied him, her lips pressing into a thin line as she considered his words. There was truth in them, she knew. Jared wasn’t the kind of man who made promises lightly. Yet, she couldn’t shake the lingering feeling that he wasn’t fully open with her.

She might have used her newly found courage and confronted him outright—demanded to know why he wasn’t sharing everything with her—but she stopped herself.

Instead, she let her thoughts drift to their beginnings. Jared had always been fiercely independent, a man who thrived on self-reliance. She remembered the early days of their relationship, how hard it had been for him to let her in. He had struggled even with the simplest gestures of vulnerability. Cleaning his house after spending the night there had felt so natural to her, but he had been flustered, almost embarrassed, thanking her as though she’d done him an extraordinary favor.

It had been endearing, but it also revealed how unfamiliar he was with the idea of someone caring for him.

He rarely spoke about his past, and his emotions were often shrouded behind a wall of composure. But these last few days... something was shifting. He had been opening up to her in ways he never had before. They weren’t grand revelations or emotional confessions, but small moments, glimpses of the man beneath the protective armor he wore. For someone like Jared, those moments probably felt monumental, like baring his soul to the world.

Jerica exhaled softly, her heart settling into a place of quiet understanding. Maybe this was his way of being vulnerable—his version of laying himself bare. It wasn’t everything, not yet, but it was a start. And maybe that was enough for now.

They had time. They had a lifetime ahead to grow together, to learn each other’s secrets, to bridge the gaps that still lingered between them. Jared wasn’t withholding out of malice or mistrust; he was simply a man unlearning a lifetime of self-reliance, taking tentative steps into the unfamiliar territory of letting someone else in.

Her fingers reached for his, lacing them together as she leaned in to press a soft kiss to his lips. She then lay quietly beside him, gently drawing lazy circles on his hand.

For a long moment, they stayed like that, the soft light of morning spilling over their entangled forms, illuminating the quiet sanctuary they had built together. The silence between them wasn’t empty—it was full, brimming with unspoken truths and unyielding devotion. In that moment, they didn’t need words to communicate. Their love spoke in the language of quiet breaths, tender touches, and the steady rhythm of their hearts beating in sync.

At times, the nurses entered the room, bustling about for one reason or another, but Jerica didn’t move from her spot. She remained a sentinel by Jared’s side, her hand resting possessively over his, her gaze sharp and unyielding.

When one nurse arrived to give Jared a sponge bath, Jerica’s demeanor shifted. She sat up straighter, her eyes narrowing as she watched the nurse’s every move. Her glare was unwavering, a silent but unmistakable message: Don’t linger. Don’t touch him more than necessary. The tension in the room was almost comical, and Jared, lying there helpless but far from oblivious, couldn’t help the faint smirk that tugged at his lips.

Through it all, Jared observed his wife. These days, Jerica was a wellspring of surprises. From the quiet turmoil of finding divorce papers hidden in her things to the fiery resolve she had shown in seeking revenge on his behalf, she continued to astonish him. She was fierce, unpredictable, and utterly unrelenting when it came to protecting what she cared about. And for reasons he couldn’t quite fathom, he found himself pleasantly captivated by it all.

When the doctor finally entered the room to check on him, Jerica stood immediately, slipping off the bed with a sudden air of deference. Gone was the sharp glare and the territorial stance—replaced by a composed and respectful demeanor. Jared watched her, utterly bemused. The Jerica from the night before—fiery, unbothered by decorum—was nowhere to be seen.

As the doctor flipped through the pages of Jared’s chart, Jerica hovered nearby, her hands clasped in front of her, every ounce of her attention focused on the verdict. Jared tried not to laugh, but a small smile crept across his face anyway. It was the way her brow furrowed in worry, the way her lips pursed as though she was preparing to fire a barrage of questions. She looked so poised, so concerned, so Jerica.

Even amidst the sharp aches that wracked his body and the weight of the impossible situation hanging over them, Jared felt a warmth settle in his chest. It was peace—not the absence of trouble, but the sense of calm she brought simply by being there. Her presence, her fire, her loyalty—they shielded him from the storm that raged outside these walls.

He didn’t need to say anything. Jerica was his anchor, the one steady thing in a world that seemed to spin out of control. Even if she didn’t fully realize it herself, she was the calm he hadn’t known he needed—the kind of peace that wrapped itself around him, soft yet unyielding. She was his solace, the quiet in the storm, and even in his pain, it was her presence that gave him the strength to endure.

When the doctor finally talked, Jerica’s breath caught in her chest, the tension she hadn’t realized was there easing just slightly with the words, Jared’s condition is improving.

There was relief in that—tiny, fragile relief. But it didn’t stop the weight of her worry.

She forced herself to smile, to act like she was okay, but the truth was, her heart still ached as she looked at Jared. Seeing him struggle to sit up, his movements slow and labored, was like watching a part of her break. He was supposed to be stronger than this. Why does he have to suffer so much?