5 hours ago
Jensen stood shoulder to shoulder with strangers, their polite applause and murmured comments washing over him like white noise. The atmosphere in the grand hall felt both suffocating and surreal, a contradiction he could neither fight nor escape. Despite his recent, tenuous connection to Maksim, he had never quite understood why he was here. His presence felt purposeless, like a misplaced piece in someone else’s puzzle. But the moment Jessika entered, everything crystallized with sharp, almost painful clarity.
He could barely process the applause that greeted her as she entered the room like a princess surveying her subjects. The sea of shoulders around him became a barricade, but it wasn’t just the crowd that kept him rooted in place. Even if his legs had the strength to move, his will had been stolen. He was frozen by the chasm of history that yawned between them.
Jessika had always been ambitious in serving others, but during their years together, years that now felt like another lifetime, she had never hinted at this. This was power on a scale he hadn’t imagined, and seeing her claim it so effortlessly, so publicly, felt like being struck by a bolt of lightning. He could still hear her laugh in his memory, the way she’d once confided in him late at night, her voice warm and close, like they were the only two people in the world. Now that voice spoke to the whole world, and it wasn’t warm and playful. It was cold steel.
He swallowed hard and closed his eyes, grateful for the anonymity of his mask. His breathing was shallow, and he pressed a palm against his stomach as though to steady the whirlwind within him. His body felt unsteady, but he reminded himself that his feet were still firmly planted on the ground. He was not floating, not trapped in some alternate reality. No, this was painfully real.
Jessika, his Jessika, had become something unrecognizable. She was once the love of his life, his partner, the mother of his children. For all of Jensen’s betrayal of their vows, he blamed himself for the shattering of the world they built together. But what he cracked, she destroyed. Her goodness, her selflessness was all an illusion. The Carpenter family suffered the worst of fates at her hand, and for what? For the platform she now stood on, glittering in the light of her own ambition.
And yet, even as anger threatened to rise, it was drowned by something deeper, something heavier: grief. He mourned the Jessika he had loved, the Jessika who had shared his bed, who had held his children in her arms, who had once been his best friend. He had spent most of his entire adult life at her side, and now he was here, watching her from a distance so vast it felt insurmountable.
She hasn’t seen you yet. You could leave. Just turn and walk away.
The thought brushed against him like a whisper, and for a fleeting moment, it seemed possible. He could retreat into the crowd, slip away before she noticed him. But when he opened his eyes, he knew. The idea of fleeing was as hollow as it was futile. He wasn’t going to walk away. Even as his stomach churned, even as every part of him desperately wanted to avoid this confrontation, he understood that he would not run. He spent too long running.
And so he stayed, rooted in indecision but already knowing the outcome. He wished, fleetingly, that someone would sweep him out of the room against his will. It would have been easier—an escape forced upon him, a chance to avoid the weight of what he was about to do.
But there was no savior coming.
He straightened his posture, hoping he did not appear as weak as he felt.
And so, Jensen stepped forward, weaving his way through the crowd toward the woman who now felt like a stranger.
He was going to say hello.
He could barely process the applause that greeted her as she entered the room like a princess surveying her subjects. The sea of shoulders around him became a barricade, but it wasn’t just the crowd that kept him rooted in place. Even if his legs had the strength to move, his will had been stolen. He was frozen by the chasm of history that yawned between them.
Jessika had always been ambitious in serving others, but during their years together, years that now felt like another lifetime, she had never hinted at this. This was power on a scale he hadn’t imagined, and seeing her claim it so effortlessly, so publicly, felt like being struck by a bolt of lightning. He could still hear her laugh in his memory, the way she’d once confided in him late at night, her voice warm and close, like they were the only two people in the world. Now that voice spoke to the whole world, and it wasn’t warm and playful. It was cold steel.
He swallowed hard and closed his eyes, grateful for the anonymity of his mask. His breathing was shallow, and he pressed a palm against his stomach as though to steady the whirlwind within him. His body felt unsteady, but he reminded himself that his feet were still firmly planted on the ground. He was not floating, not trapped in some alternate reality. No, this was painfully real.
Jessika, his Jessika, had become something unrecognizable. She was once the love of his life, his partner, the mother of his children. For all of Jensen’s betrayal of their vows, he blamed himself for the shattering of the world they built together. But what he cracked, she destroyed. Her goodness, her selflessness was all an illusion. The Carpenter family suffered the worst of fates at her hand, and for what? For the platform she now stood on, glittering in the light of her own ambition.
And yet, even as anger threatened to rise, it was drowned by something deeper, something heavier: grief. He mourned the Jessika he had loved, the Jessika who had shared his bed, who had held his children in her arms, who had once been his best friend. He had spent most of his entire adult life at her side, and now he was here, watching her from a distance so vast it felt insurmountable.
She hasn’t seen you yet. You could leave. Just turn and walk away.
The thought brushed against him like a whisper, and for a fleeting moment, it seemed possible. He could retreat into the crowd, slip away before she noticed him. But when he opened his eyes, he knew. The idea of fleeing was as hollow as it was futile. He wasn’t going to walk away. Even as his stomach churned, even as every part of him desperately wanted to avoid this confrontation, he understood that he would not run. He spent too long running.
And so he stayed, rooted in indecision but already knowing the outcome. He wished, fleetingly, that someone would sweep him out of the room against his will. It would have been easier—an escape forced upon him, a chance to avoid the weight of what he was about to do.
But there was no savior coming.
He straightened his posture, hoping he did not appear as weak as he felt.
And so, Jensen stepped forward, weaving his way through the crowd toward the woman who now felt like a stranger.
He was going to say hello.