If Only

Chapter Forty: Ripples

A/N: I honestly genuinely frickin' believe that you should listen to Taylor Swift's "Better Man" while reading this chapter, as I've been listening to it on an endless loop the entire time I've been writing this, and as exaggerated as it sounds, I was tearing up the whole time I was writing this, as it resonates deeply to what some of us may be experiencing while experiencing heartbreak. OMG okay, I'm babbling now, go ahead, hopefully you ENJOY this chapter as much as I was bawling out writing it. XOXO

-Zin

That was it.

It marked the end of whatever existed between Jared and me. The mere thought tears my heart into a million more pieces.

Each step I took toward the house triggered memories, playing in my head in an endless loop. The realization of how much change occurred in Jared over the time we were together, even before we officially acknowledged our relationship, haunted me. Long before he admitted he loved me.

It wouldn't have hurt him so deeply if it hadn't been real for him. It proved my lingering doubts about us wrong. Everything we had was genuine.

My mind couldn't stop blaming me for everything that happened. While a part of me tried to convince myself that none of this was my fault, an inner voice mocked me, insisting that I internally jeopardized what we had with the conflicting feelings I harbored for Tyrone.

Yet, with pain searing through every vein, I realized that Jared was whom I wanted. Not anyone else, not even Tyrone.

I had let myself be carried away by the decisions of our parents to bring us closer, a situation that was never a part of my plan. And it formed into bile, rising in my throat at the thought that I'd given in.

With each step, I practiced composing myself, ensuring that by the time I stepped inside, there would be no trace of my emotional turmoil visible to anyone's lingering eyes. I aimed for the appearance of a casual night stroll, nothing more. How pretentious did that sound?

The mocking voice persisted, berating me with every condemnation imaginable. It echoed incessantly in my mind.

I managed to mask any signs of crying as I reached the front of the house. When I opened the door, only our parents remained in the living room, engaged in some discussion.

In a comical unison, they turned their heads toward me. The first pair of eyes I recognized belonged to my father, and the sense of belittlement washed over me.

It felt as if I were standing at a crossroads, uncertain of the next move. Should I force a smile, pretending everything was fine? Or should I head straight to the solitude of my bedroom upstairs?

The internal conflict and indecision seemed endless, casting a shadow over any clarity.

Just as I grappled with my self-condemnation, a lifeline emerged in the form of Sofia, who took it upon herself to call out to me.

"Jade, honey, all the kids are out by the pool. If you want to join them..."

Her small, empathetic smile offered a momentary reprieve.

My father remained silent, but his piercing gaze left no room for ambiguity. It was apparent that I was expected to follow through with Sofia's suggestion.

Exhaustion gripped me, and the thought of facing anyone at that moment felt overwhelming. All I yearned for was the solace of my room, to lie down and drown in self-hate, perhaps cry myself to sleep, enveloped in a shroud of self-pity.

The weight of exhaustion bore down on me, rendering me indifferent to whatever else my father might want to say. If he had something to address, I resolved to confront it the following day when the house was void of onlookers. My father, much like myself, projected a facade to those in his vicinity, concealing the internal turmoil that dwelled within him.