Divorce With Benefits: A Second Chance At Love
Chapter 96: The Trip

Chapter 96: The Trip

The screen flickered to life, revealing Jared seated at their dining table, his plate of lunch in front of him. His expression was unreadable, a neutral mask that gave away nothing of his thoughts. Jerica blinked, her confusion growing. Was this his way of subtly letting her know he was still home, keeping his promise not to wander off alone? A passive-aggressive reassurance, perhaps?

She hesitated, waiting for him to speak. But he didn’t. Instead, he picked up his fork and began to eat, his eyes occasionally flicking to the screen as if silently asking, Are you eating too?

Jerica sighed softly, her earlier irritation melting into something gentler. There was no need for words, apparently. His silent gesture brought a strange sense of comfort, like a truce offered without a formal declaration. Her appetite, which had fled moments earlier, returned. She unwrapped her sandwich and took a bite, matching his pace as they shared a quiet, virtual meal.

For a moment, the world stilled. The tension between them, the unanswered questions, and even the biting remarks from Judge Jefferson faded into the background. There was only the sound of her chewing and the occasional clink of Jared’s fork against his plate.

When she finished her sandwich, she looked at him through the screen. His eyes softened as if acknowledging the moment they had shared. He gave a slight nod before ending the call without a word.

Jerica stared at her phone for a long moment after Jared’s call ended, her heart feeling a little lighter than it had in days. Maybe they weren’t fully mended yet, but this—this silent communion—was something. A quiet, unexpected connection amid the chaos. For now, it was enough.

But peace never lasted long in her world.

Her inbox pinged with a new email notification. She opened it casually, only for her eyes to widen in dismay as she read the circular. Every member of the Clerk’s office was required to attend a mandatory "trust-building trip" over the upcoming Labor Day weekend.

The location? Some godforsaken woods.

Woods.

Jerica’s stomach churned at the thought. Woods weren’t idyllic and magical like in the movies—they were muddy, mosquito-infested nightmares where black bears prowled, where people wandered off trails and disappeared, and where nature seemed to delight in making humans miserable.

Who in their right mind called that trust-building?

The email waxed poetic about the benefits of "escaping the hustle of city life," bonding with coworkers around a crackling campfire, and reconnecting with the natural world.

Jerica snorted.

More like reconnecting with hypothermia while sleeping on cold, lumpy ground in a tent that wouldn’t keep a light drizzle out, let alone the inevitable torrential downpour. She could practically feel the mosquito bites forming already.

She reread the email, her horror growing. Mandatory. That hateful word loomed over her like a death sentence. And if she didn’t go? The circular hinted—not so subtly—that skipping the trip could result in consequences as dire as losing her job.

Who even wanted to spend a holiday weekend trudging through dirt and pretending to enjoy forced camaraderie with coworkers?

Jerica muttered under her breath, her frustration building. "They couldn’t pay me enough to deal with this crap. Black bears? Bloodthirsty mosquitoes? Poop in the woods? No, thank you."

Her mind raced with escape plans. Maybe she could fake an illness, though her coworkers would probably see through it. She didn’t care though.

She glanced at her phone again, half-expecting another unwelcome message to pop up and ruin her day further. When none did, she sighed, leaning back against the tree, already dreading the inevitable.

Jerica hated the woods with every fiber of her being. She wouldn’t be caught dead in the woods—though, if she were forced to go, maybe the bears would put her out of her misery.

-----

Arthur Sutherland observed his wife, Lydia, as she leaned toward their son, Alfred, whispering something in his ear. Alfred’s youthful face lit up with a grin, but Arthur couldn’t help noticing the nervous woman seated at the table.

Alfred did what he promised and brought home a proper woman. But she looked stressed. Her stiff posture and hesitant glances spoke volumes.

Arthur offered her a reassuring smile, his way of easing the tension Lydia’s domineering presence often brought.

His thoughts wandered as he watched his wife’s subtle but unmistakable distractions. Lydia hadn’t gone to Orkney right away as planned. She’d delayed her departure to ensure the case against Jared Petrovski was withdrawn.

Even now, her focus wasn’t entirely on the present moment. Her phone vibrated quietly every few minutes, the faint ding of incoming messages punctuating the dinner conversation. Lydia ignored most of them, but Arthur noticed the slight flicker of her gaze when certain messages appeared.

She was still monitoring Jerica and her husband.

Arthur’s brows furrowed slightly, though his practiced demeanor remained calm. Lydia’s interest in the couple bordered on obsession. She claimed it was all under control, that it was necessary for their family’s larger interests. Arthur had learned to trust her instincts, but that didn’t mean he fully approved. His unease lingered, a low hum at the back of his mind.

The way Lydia managed her affairs often left him in the dark, and though he respected her capabilities, this particular fixation was unsettling. He’d been married to her long enough to recognize when her drive turned into a relentless pursuit. And this... this was teetering on that edge.

Arthur glanced at Alfred, who seemed oblivious to the underlying tension. His youthful exuberance was a balm against the storm Lydia carried in her wake. But for Arthur, the time had come to step in, subtly and carefully.

He needed to investigate Jerica himself. Not because he doubted Lydia’s competence—far from it. But because he knew how easily her actions could escalate. He didn’t want Lydia’s obsession to spiral into something uncontrollable. And if he enlisted anyone else’s help, there was no guarantee Lydia wouldn’t find out. She had eyes and ears everywhere.

This was something Arthur had to do on his own. Quietly. Methodically.

As he excused himself from the table, he caught Lydia’s sharp gaze flickering toward him. He gave her a placid smile, the kind he always wore when he didn’t want to invite questions. She arched a brow but said nothing, her attention returning to Alfred and the seemingly endless stream of messages.

Arthur left the room, determination etched into his face. It was time to uncover who Jerica truly was—and why his wife couldn’t seem to let her go.

-----

A week had passed since Jared returned to work, and though words between them remained scarce, Jerica didn’t feel entirely lonely. There was a subtle understanding between them—a shared rhythm they had fallen into.

Despite their silence, Jared ensured she never felt completely isolated. His quiet presence was a balm, even if it wasn’t a cure.

At the office, things were different. Jerica occasionally saw Nick in the corridors, but, true to his word, he avoided her with precision. She felt the sting of his avoidance but couldn’t blame him. She had hurt him, and perhaps his coldness was her penance.

Still, she bore no ill will toward him. His hatred, deserved as it was, weighed heavily on her.

Then came the dreaded day of the trip.

Jerica stood in her room, staring at her neatly packed luggage with an expression of pure disdain. The trip to the woods loomed ahead like an unwelcome storm cloud.

Jared stared at her blankly, his thoughts secret as always.

Though Jared wasn’t back to his full strength, he carried himself with the same unwavering determination that had always defined him. His resilience was admirable, even if she worried he might be pushing himself too hard.

Their fragile equilibrium remained intact. They weren’t speaking much, but the ways in which Jared lingered near her spoke volumes. At the office, he seemed to find excuses to interact with her at least once an hour.

Sometimes it was a trivial question about a case, the kind of inquiry that didn’t warrant a visit. Other times, he suddenly needed to consult Harold, the PR officer, about the most minute details of his court hearings—details Harold probably didn’t need or care to know.

Jerica wasn’t fooled. Jared wasn’t there for Harold or the questions he asked. He was there for her. Why the sudden change in him? She had no idea. Maybe it was guilt, maybe something else, but she wasn’t ready to analyze it too deeply.

She accepted his presence for what it was: a comfort she hadn’t realized she still craved.

And then there was the trip.

The trip had been labeled a "trust-building exercise," proposed by none other than the congressman, who thought it would be a peaceful reprieve for tired and underpaid government workers.

Jerica had nearly laughed out loud when she heard it. Peaceful? A reprieve? Who in their right mind thought dragging people into mosquito-infested woods, surrounded by bears and questionable outdoor hygiene, was anyone’s idea of peace? Did they think sleeping in freezing tents was a fair trade for a campfire and some kumbaya moments?

Her fingers tightened on the luggage handle as she muttered under her breath, As if anyone asked for a trip to the frigging woods!

It was absurd. Not only was this forced bonding exercise a waste of time, but it added to her stress. How was she supposed to relax while trying to survive the wilderness with colleagues she barely liked?