Divorce With Benefits: A Second Chance At Love
Chapter 91: Foolish? Selfless? Romantic?

Chapter 91: Foolish? Selfless? Romantic?

Jared’s shoulders sagged, and he looked down, avoiding her gaze. "I just need to get out of here," he said quietly, his voice heavy with exhaustion and emotion.

The words stung more than Jerica expected. They hit her like a cold slap, and she bit her lip hard to keep the lump in her throat from escaping as a sob. Whatever fragile hope she’d been holding onto slipped further away, leaving her chest hollow and aching. She felt like she had pushed him too far, too soon.

She knew he wasn’t ready for this conversation, especially now, when his body was frail, his energy sapped. He needed rest, treatment, and time. Her timing couldn’t have been worse, and the guilt weighed heavily on her.

When he finally stood to leave, she watched him struggle, every movement slow and strained. Her heart broke watching him. Without a word, she moved to his side, offering her shoulder for support. She half-expected him to brush her off, to insist he didn’t need her help. But to her surprise, he leaned on her, his weight pressing against her as they took careful, shuffling steps out of the hospital.

By the time they reached home that evening, Jared was visibly drained. He sank onto the couch, his pale face a testament to his exhaustion. Jerica helped him settle before setting about tidying the house. She cleaned the bathroom, folded the laundry, and tried to keep her hands busy—anything to keep her mind from replaying their earlier conversation.

When she finally made her way to the bedroom, Jared was fast asleep, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. She hesitated at the door, a wave of emotion washing over her. Even in sleep, he looked weary, his brow faintly furrowed as though carrying the weight of something he couldn’t quite let go of.

She pulled a chair close to the bed and sat down, watching him in the dim light. Her thoughts circled back to their earlier argument, the words she’d said and the pain they had caused. She realized now how absurd her request had been—bringing up something so monumental in such an unorthodox way. But absurdity aside, the longing for a child still burned fiercely within her. It wasn’t just a passing desire; it was something she needed, something that made her feel whole.

Her eyes softened as she reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from his forehead. "I’m sorry, Jared," she whispered, more to herself than to him. "I didn’t mean to hurt you."

Before she knew it, exhaustion wrapped its heavy arms around Jerica, pulling her into a restless sleep in the chair beside Jared’s bed. The room was steeped in silence. Her dreams were fragmented—shadows of fear, whispers of longing, and fleeting images of the life she yearned for but could not seem to grasp.

The scent of food stirred her awake. At first, she thought it was part of her dream—a warm, homey smell that felt out of place in the sterile hospital environment. As her grogginess faded, realization hit her, and her eyes flew open. They were in their home, and the bed was empty.

Panic shot through her veins, and she bolted upright. Her heart raced as her mind leaped to the worst conclusions. Where is he? Did something happen? Did someone take him away?

"Jared!" she cried out, stumbling from the chair. Her knee banged against the bedside table, and she stubbed her toe on the edge of the bed frame. The sharp pain barely registered against the rising tide of anxiety.

"Jerica..."

His voice drifted from the kitchen, calm and steady, cutting through her panic like a soothing balm. She froze, the sound pulling her out of her spiraling thoughts. Slowly, she turned toward the source.

There he stood, in their modest kitchen, spatula in hand, wearing his apron. His hair was disheveled, his movements deliberate but faintly shaky, and the pallor of his face betrayed the effort it took him to stand there.

Jerica stared at him, dumbfounded. Relief surged through her, followed by a wave of exasperation. "What are you doing?" Her voice was shaky, caught somewhere between incredulity and concern, as she closed the distance between them.

Without waiting for an answer, she wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly.

Jared chuckled softly, though it sounded more like a breathless sigh. "Cooking for you," he said simply, his voice tinged with affection. He rubbed gentle circles on her back. "Why are you panicked?"

Jerica’s grip on him tightened, and she buried her face in his chest. "Because you’re supposed to be resting," she murmured, her words muffled. "You shouldn’t even be out of bed. Let alone cooking. Jared..." Her voice trailed off as a lump formed in her throat. She hated how fragile he felt against her, his strength ebbing even as he tried to project normalcy.

"I woke up and felt... okay. Thought I’d use the time to make something for you." His hand moved to her hair, his touch gentle despite his obvious fatigue. "You haven’t eaten properly in days, Jerica. I couldn’t lie there knowing that."

His words pierced her, filling her with a mix of gratitude and frustration. She stepped back slightly, looking up at him. "You left the hospital—risked your health—for me? What if something had happened?" Her voice cracked as the weight of her worry slipped through.

Jared’s smile was faint but genuine. "I’m okay," he reassured her, though the shadows under his eyes and the unsteadiness in his frame told a different story. "And it’s not just for you. It’s for me, too. I couldn’t stand seeing you like that."

Tears welled in her eyes, blurring his figure. Should she call him foolish? Selfless? Romantic? She couldn’t decide. All she knew was that this man—her man—would move mountains for her, even at the expense of his own well-being.

"Jared..." She wrapped her arms around his waist again, pressing her cheek against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat was a balm to her frazzled nerves. "You’re impossible."

He chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. "I know," he said, his lips brushing against the top of her head. Her hair was unwashed, but he didn’t care. "But you’re worth it."

Jerica bit her lip, swallowing the lump in her throat as her emotions surged. She felt safe and loved in his embrace, yet his stubbornness scared her. He always knew how to give her what she needed, but never what she truly wanted.

Jared’s mind, however, was elsewhere. As he held her, his thoughts wandered to the conversation they’d had, the one that had reopened old wounds. He understood her desperation, her need to build a family. He’d known it for a while but had hoped—foolishly, perhaps—that she’d wait. That she’d see why now wasn’t the time.

His jaw tightened. She didn’t understand. Couldn’t understand. He wasn’t avoiding fatherhood out of selfishness or laziness. He was protecting her. A child would only complicate things, and Jerica, with her boundless love, would throw herself into motherhood without regard for her own safety.

What would he do if something happened to her?

"I love you, Jerica," he said softly, meaning every word. He pressed a kiss to her temple, holding her a little tighter. It was all he could offer her for now—his love, his presence. But he couldn’t give her what she wanted. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

And that thought tore at him, even as he resolved to stand firm.

Jerica sat on the edge of the bed that night, watching Jared’s sleeping form bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Her emotions were a tangled mess—grateful for his love, hurt by his silence, and now, a growing determination that she couldn’t shake. Jared had always been a private man, but this time, his refusal to open up was more than frustrating. It was dangerous.

She ran her fingers lightly through his hair, her heart aching as she took in his peaceful expression. He looked so vulnerable, so far removed from the man who often shielded her from the harsh realities of his life. Despite his insistence on pretending nothing was wrong, the weight of the truth lingered in the air like a shadow.

In the days following his return, he’d kept her close, charming her with his antics and clingy behavior. Jerica had always found his sickness-induced neediness endearing, but this time, it felt... calculated. As though he were using his vulnerability to keep her distracted.

And for a while, it had worked. She’d been caught up in his sweetness—the way he playfully demanded sponge baths, the way he’d rest his head on her lap and refuse to let her leave, his hands clutching hers like she was his lifeline. It was impossible not to smile when he looked up at her with those big, pleading eyes, making her forget her questions, her worries. But tonight, as the pieces began to fall into place, she realized he’d been pulling the strings all along.

Jerica sighed, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead before slipping quietly from the bed. She needed answers. If Jared wasn’t going to give them to her, she’d find them herself.