If Only

Chapter Forty-One: Jack in the Box

Weeks have blended into a continuous stream of days, and today stands as a somber milestone, marking a full month since I've last seen Jared.

I'm back to square one, immersed in an all-encompassing gloom that beckons me back to the sanctuary of my room, plunging myself into solitude once more.

The day following the Thanksgiving dinner at home, the Legacies returned to their normal lives in London, along with their parents dispersing on separate paths. It was on this departure day that Colton Robertson, Tyrone's father, summoned the courage to deliver the news to my father – there would be no more arrangements involving Tyrone and me.

My father, predictably, didn't take the news lightly. He attempted to persuade Colton, insisting they talk it out. Fortunately, Colton, with a deeper understanding of the situation, asserted, "We cannot force our children into something they don't want to do... They're already carrying more than they could..."

Now, my father broods over me with an overt display of disappointment every time his gaze falls upon me. He has resumed his worldwide trips alongside his fellow founders, and I'm seizing this time away from him as an opportunity to dwell on my own emotions, locking myself in my room. I've regressed to where I started.

This time, my mother refrains from pushing me further, sensing the gravity of my solitude. Unaware of the true cause behind my self-isolation, I'm grateful for her ignorance. She doesn't need to witness me in this state.

I should be celebrating my anticipated freedom from the arrangement that loomed over me for the past months. However, I can't find it within myself to rejoice, as the one person I longed to share this newfound liberty with is no longer a part of the picture.

Today unfolded like any other in the recurring pattern of my weekends. I confined myself to my room, either sprawled across the bed, tracing the lines on my ceiling, or immersing myself in music as a desperate measure to drown out the persistent thoughts.

My windows stayed open, and I couldn't bring myself to close them. A small hope lived in me, thinking maybe a tall figure could return from my balcony. But, that day, full of expectation, stayed out of reach, like a distant dream yet to come true.

Trying to shift my focus, I buried my face in a book for the past five minutes, reading the same five sentences repeatedly. My mind resisted taking in the words, as if blocking any outside input.

Consciously, I hid my phone to avoid stirring up my emotions. Deleting pictures of Jared felt too hard, so I chose to keep the device out of my reach. I fought the urge to peek at those photos, afraid it would undo the emotional progress I'd made.

I no longer found myself hunched over my phone, tears flowing freely. Somehow, despite the pain, I was slowly becoming more resilient.

As I tried to dive back into the book, a faint knock interrupted me. Curious, I dropped the book on the bed and approached the door cautiously. Opening it, I found my mother holding the home phone, her face filled with concern.

"Jade..." she hesitantly began.

"Yes, Mom?"

She tried to force a suppressed smile as she offered me the phone in her grasp.

"Lizzy's on the phone," she announced, waiting for my response.

Brows furrowed in confusion, I wondered why Lizzy would choose to call through the home phone instead of directly reaching out to me on my cell. Then it dawned on me—my phone was hidden away for avoidance reasons.