Losing You Kylie JennerxOc Character

10

Khloe's words hung in the air like a heavy fog, settling around Jordan's weary shoulders. Dead. Yes, that's how she felt—like a ghost haunting her own life. The sleepless nights had etched shadows under her eyes, and her skin clung to her bones as if reluctant to stay.

The house smelled of neglect—stale air, unwashed dishes, and the faint tang of desperation. Kylie's absence was a gaping wound, festering with each passing day. Last Sunday—the memory was a distant ache. Jordan had cooked pancakes, their favorite, and set the table for three. But Kylie hadn't come home. Stormi's eyes had filled with questions, and Jordan had offered weak smiles, pretending everything was okay.

Now it was Friday, and the silence was deafening. Jordan's fingers traced the rim of the bottle—a refuge, a companion. Alcohol had become her solace, numbing the ache, blurring the edges of reality. She'd never been a drinker, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Khloe's gaze bore into her, assessing, dissecting. "You stink," she said, her voice unyielding. "And that bottle—when did you start drinking?"

The air in the room grew thick, charged with tension. Jordan's eyes bore into Khloe's, her voice a raw edge of anger. "What the fuck are you doing here, Khloe?" she spat out, the words echoing off the walls of the opulent mansion. The Jordan standing before Khloe was not the composed, unflappable woman she had known. This Jordan was fractured, her spirit shattered like a mirror dropped on marble.

Khloe blinked, momentarily taken aback by the venom in Jordan's voice. She had expected a warm welcome, perhaps a hug, but this was different. Jordan's eyes held a desperate intensity, as if she were teetering on the edge of a precipice. Khloe wondered how Stormi, her young niece, was coping with this fractured version of her mother.

"We have a family dinner tonight," Khloe stammered, trying to regain her composure. "Remember? It's Kylie's birthday, and your anniversary is next week." The name "Kylie" felt foreign on her tongue. How had things come to this? Kylie, the woman who had once been Jordan's everything, was now a stranger—a painful reminder of what had been lost.

Jordan's eyes widened. Kylie hadn't been gone for a week; she had vanished for an entire month. A month of silence, unanswered calls, and empty spaces in their shared home. Jordan's heart clenched. She had been left to navigate the wreckage alone, with only her children—Stormi and Aire—for company.

Khloe shifted uncomfortably, glancing around the room. The camera crew followed her every move, capturing the chaos—the overturned furniture, the shattered glass, the books strewn across the floor. It was a mess, a reflection of the emotional storm that had torn through their lives.

"We're going to a cool resort in Aruba," Khloe continued, her voice softer now. "We managed to get a booking." She hoped the change of scenery would help. A week away from this toxic place, away from the memories and the pain, might be a balm for their wounded souls.

Jordan hesitated. Aruba with Kylie—could she bear it? Maybe, just maybe, this trip would provide a safe space for them to talk. To unravel the tangled threads of their relationship without the threat of flying books or shattered glass. As she glanced at the camera crew, Jordan wondered how much of their private turmoil would be broadcast to the world. But right now, survival was all that mattered. Perhaps, amid the palm trees and turquoise waters, they could find a way back to each other—or at least find a way to heal.

Khloe's voice echoed through the opulent hallway, her words sharp and unyielding. "Now go and take a shower, or we will be late," she commanded, her gaze unwavering on Jordan. The air hung heavy with unspoken truths, and Jordan's mind raced, trying to decipher the hidden meaning behind Khloe's urgency.