Whispers of Deceit.

Chapter 14

As we drive home, the night air feels crisp against my skin, but the tension inside the car is thick enough to cut. Jared's hands grip the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white as we navigate the familiar streets back to our house.

I glance at him from the passenger seat, his profile illuminated by the dim glow of the dashboard lights. He looks conflicted, caught between his loyalty to his mother and his desire to protect me.

I want to reach out and tell him it's okay, that I understand how hard this is for him. But a part of me is still stinging from the evening's events, and I'm not sure how to bridge that gap just yet.

"Lia," he finally says, breaking the silence as we approach a red light. "I just wish things could be different."

"Me too," I reply, my voice barely above a whisper. "But I can't keep pretending she's someone she's not. I won't let her keep tearing me down."

He nods, but I can see the disappointment etched across his features. "I just thought she was really trying this time. That she wanted to change."

"People don't change overnight, Jared. This isn't a fairy tale." My words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of truth. "I know you want her to be a better mother, but that doesn't mean she will be."

"Maybe," he concedes, glancing sideways at me. "But it's hard to see you hurt like this."

"I appreciate that," I say, feeling a pang of guilt. "But you have to understand, I'm not the problem here. She is. I'm just the one who's tired of being her punching bag."

"I know," he says softly, a hint of defeat creeping into his tone. "I just... I want to find a way to make this work. For all of us."

"Maybe it's time to revaluate what 'working' looks like," I suggest gently. "Sometimes, the hardest thing to do is to let go."

We pull into our driveway, and as the engine rumbles to a stop, I feel a mix of relief and uncertainty. I want to feel hopeful that we can navigate this, but the weight of Helen's manipulation still lingers in my mind.

Once inside, I kick off my shoes and head straight for the kitchen, needing to pour myself a glass of water. Jared follows, leaning against the counter with an air of resignation.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks, his voice quiet, almost hesitant.

I take a long sip from my glass before responding. "I don't know what there is to say. I'm tired of her pretending to be something she's not. It's exhausting."

He nods, his expression sombre. "You're right. I just wish there was a way to get through to her, to make her see how her actions affect you."

I set my glass down, the sound of it clinking against the counter echoing in the silence. "Maybe she doesn't want to see. Maybe she likes things the way they are—keeping me on my toes, waiting for her next jab."

"Then what do we do?" Jared asks, a note of desperation creeping into his voice. "How do we fix this?"

I take a deep breath, trying to find the words. "Maybe it's not about fixing it. Maybe it's about setting boundaries. I can't keep putting myself in situations where I feel attacked or belittled. I need to prioritize my well-being."

He looks at me, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. "So, what does that mean for us? For her?" "It means that if she can't respect those boundaries, I won't be around to tolerate her games. I'm done being a pawn in her manipulative chess match."

Jared pushes off the counter and steps closer, his gaze searching mine. "I don't want to lose you over this, Lia."

"You won't," I assure him, feeling a swell of determination.