Behind Closed Doors (New Version)

Chapter 91

Olivia's pov

It's the next day and the weather is beautiful today—clear skies, warm sun, the kind of day that makes you think for a second that everything's alright. But as I sit outside smoking, staring at the blue horizon, I can't help but wish my life was as beautiful as the weather. It's not, though. It's far from it. It feels like every time I get a grip on things, something else slips out of my hands.

I take another drag of my cigarette, letting the smoke fill my lungs before slowly exhaling, watching it swirl up into the air and disappear. Maybe that's what I need to do—just let everything float away. But it's not that easy. I'm stuck in this loop, and I don't know how to get out of it. I'm also dealing with a hangover right now.

All or a sudden my phone dings, pulling me out of my thoughts. I glance down at the screen. It's a message from Jenna.

Come here, it says.

A part of me hesitates. Things between us have been tense—no, more than tense. It's like walking on broken glass, and I'm constantly cutting myself open. But I don't want to leave her waiting, so I stand up slowly, crushing the cigarette under my foot. I head back into the house, my steps feeling heavier the closer I get to our bedroom.

When I reach the door, I pause for a second, my hand resting on the handle. I don't know what to expect. Taking a deep breath, I slowly push the door open, peeking in. Jenna's sitting on the side of the bed, her fingers fiddling with each other in that way she does when she's anxious. I step inside and walk over to the bed, stopping a few feet away from her. Close, but not too close.

"We need to talk," she says, her voice shaky as she lets out a sigh.

I feel a tightness in my chest. That's never a good way to start a conversation.

"Okay," I say, my voice sounding more detached than I intend. I stand there, looking at her, waiting for whatever this is.

"I think... I think we're moving too fast," Jenna finally says, her eyes still focused on her hands.

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, but I try not to show it. "What do you mean?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady, even though my stomach is twisting in knots.

"What if all these arguments we keep having, all these ups and downs, are because we're moving too fast?" Jenna says, her voice soft, almost like she doesn't want to say the words out loud.

I feel my heart start to race, anxiety creeping up my spine. "So, what are you suggesting?" I ask, my voice quieter now, a little nervous.

"I think we should slow things down. We've got a baby on the way, we're living together in this big house, and we're planning a wedding," she says, her words tumbling out like she's been holding them in for too long.

I try to process what she's saying. Those are all good things—huge, life-changing things—but they're good, right?

"Those are all good things, Jenna," I say, confusion creeping into my voice. "Why is that bad?"

"They are good things, Liv, but—" Jenna starts, but I cut her off.

"So, what? You want to throw all of this away? Call it quits?" The frustration in my voice rises before I can stop it.

"No," Jenna says, her voice cracking, and I see her eyes glisten with unshed tears.

I let out a sharp breath, trying to keep myself in check. "You can't suggest a break, Jenna. We've tried that, and it didn't work. So what's left? Breaking up?"

Her silence feels like a knife in my chest.

"We just need to take things slow, that's all," Jenna says, her voice almost pleading.