2nd Chance

Chapter 9:Salt in the Wounds

Days turned into a blur as Jake remained engulfed in his grief. Victoria, with her heart aching for him, dedicated herself to cooking and keeping the house in order. Each meal was crafted with care, but every time Jake tasted her efforts, he seemed to find a new reason to lash out.One evening, Victoria served a steaming plate of chicken stir-fry. She watched him, hopeful that this time he would appreciate her cooking. But as he took a bite, his face twisted in disgust.

 "What is this crap?" he snapped, pushing the plate away. "If my mom was here, I would never have to eat this shit!"

"Jake, I'm trying my best," Victoria pleaded, feeling the familiar sting of tears welling in her eyes. "I just want to help you feel better."

"Help? This isn't helping! It's just another reminder of how much I've lost," he shouted, his voice rising. "Why can't you just get it right for once?"

"I'm sorry, I thought you might like it," she replied, her voice barely a whisper.

"Thought? You should stop thinking and start doing. You're just making everything worse," he retorted, his anger palpable. 

Victoria bit her lip, fighting back tears. She didn't know how to reach him anymore. She felt trapped in a cycle of his pain and her desperation to alleviate it. The warmth of their relationship had faded, replaced by his cold, harsh words that cut deeper than any knife. "I just want to support you," she murmured, looking down at her feet. 

"I miss the way things used to be."Jake's expression softened momentarily, but it quickly hardened again. "Well, maybe you should have thought of that before moving in. You don't know what I need. Just... leave me alone."

She nodded, retreating to the kitchen, her heart heavy. No matter how hard she tried, it seemed she could never escape the shadows of his grief, nor her own growing sense of worthlessness. Every word he spoke felt like a weight pressing down on her, suffocating the spark she once had. She didn't understand how the man she loved had turned into someone who could hurt her so easily, yet all she could do was keep trying, hoping that one day he would see her efforts for what they were a desperate attempt to hold on to the love that seemed to slip further away with each passing day.

When Victoria moved in with Jake, she thought she was building a life together, but in reality, she was draining her savings. With no job and mounting expenses, she felt the weight of responsibility pressing down on her. One evening, she mustered the courage to tell Jake that she needed to find work.

"Jake, I really need to look for a job. I can't keep spending my savings like this," she said, her voice laced with anxiety.

He shrugged, indifferent. "If you go out, who's going to take care of me?" 

"Your place is hiring, right? Maybe I could apply there," Victoria suggested, hoping he would be supportive.

"Fine, do what you want," he replied, waving her off. "Just don't take too long. I need dinner on the table when I get home."

With little choice, Victoria applied for the job and got it. It was a step forward, but her schedule became gruelling. She woke up early to prepare breakfast, worked long hours, and then came home to cook dinner before collapsing into bed. Jake's late-night work hours meant she often waited up for him, only to serve him meals that seemed to disappear into his criticism.

Months passed in this relentless routine. One day, Jake requested noodles, a simple dish. Victoria poured her heart into it, following a new recipe she had found. But when she tasted the noodles, she realized she had accidentally added too much salt.

"Jake, I" she began, but he cut her off as soon as he took a bite.

"Are you kidding me?" he exploded, his face contorting in disgust. "You call this food? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—" she tried to explain, but her words fell on deaf ears.In a fit of rage, he hurled the bowl across the room. She ducked just in time, but the noodles splattered against the wall, and the bowl shattered on the floor. As she stood there, stunned, tears filled her eyes. 

"I... I was trying my best," she stammered, her voice trembling.

"Your best? This is what you call your best?" He glared at her, his anger palpable. 

"You're useless, Victoria! I can't even rely on you for a simple meal."

The humiliation washed over her like a wave. She felt small and insignificant, her heart aching as the tears began to fall. In that moment, she felt a deep sense of loss—not just for the meal, but for the love she thought they shared. Jake's eyes softened for a fleeting second, but his bitterness took over. 

"Stop crying. It's just food. You're acting like I killed someone."

"I'm sorry," she managed between sobs, feeling the sting of his words wrap around her like a chokehold. She knelt to clean the mess, but all she could think was how she had lost herself in the process of trying to please him. Days turned into a blur of shame and fear, and each time she attempted to cook, a knot of anxiety tightened in her stomach. She became hyper-aware of every detail, fearful of another blow-up, knowing that for every misstep, there was a price to pay her heart and soul being the currency.