Chapter 79

Chapter 79
Chapter 79: The Things We Don’t Say

Elizabeth’s POV

I was folding baby clothes in the living room when the letter came. Jackson brought it in with the rest of the mail, placing it carefully beside me like it was something fragile.

“You’ve got something from your mom,” he said, wiping his hands on a dish towel. He'd just finished washing the dishes after lunch.

I looked at the envelope for a long time before picking it up. It was cream-colored, thick, and smelled faintly like her perfume, rose and something expensive. My name was written in her handwriting. Clean. Neat. Cold.

Jackson sat beside me and waited, not saying anything.

I opened it slowly. Inside was a folded letter. No “Dear Elizabeth.” Just the words, straight and clipped. An apology, sort of. Full of excuses. She said she didn’t handle things well. That she missed me. That family was important. And then she invited me to a family reconciliation dinner. Hosted by Pearl.

Of course.

I sat back on the couch and stared at nothing for a while.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jackson asked gently.

I nodded. “It’s weird. A part of me wants to tear it up and throw it away. But... another part of me wants to go. Just to see.”

“To see what?”

“If they’ve changed. Or maybe... to show them I have.”

He leaned in, his voice soft. “Do you want me to come with you?”

I looked at him. “You’d really do that?”

“Of course I would,” he said. “You won’t be alone.”

\---

We spent the rest of the afternoon trying not to talk about it, even though it sat heavy between us.

Later, while Jackson was in the shower, I stood in front of the closet and stared at my dresses. Nothing felt right. Too fancy. Too casual. Too soft. I finally settled on a black, knee-length dress with sleeves. Clean. Simple. Strong.

Jackson walked out in a fitted button-down and black pants. He looked sharp, but not flashy. Calm. Reliable.

“You look beautiful,” he said.

I gave him a small smile. “Thanks. I feel like I’m going to war.”

He reached out and smoothed a wrinkle near my shoulder. “Then let’s win.”

\---

The drive was quiet. We didn’t play music. The sky was pale blue, the streets calm, but my hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

“You can still back out,” Jackson said as we pulled into the driveway of my parents’ house.

“No,” I said. “I need to do this.”

Their house looked exactly the same. Perfect lawn. Bright lights. Cold windows.

Pearl greeted us at the door with a tight smile. “Elizabeth. Jackson.”

Her tone was sweet, but her eyes were already scanning my outfit like she was judging every inch of me.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” she said.

“I wasn’t either,” I replied flatly.

Inside, everything was staged. Soft music played. Wine glasses sparkled on the table. My mother wore a pale pink dress and pearls. My father sat stiffly on the couch, flipping through his phone like he didn’t care.

We all sat down to eat. Roast chicken. Mashed potatoes. Green beans. Pearl had gone all out. Or maybe she’d hired someone.

There were long silences. Forced smiles. Empty talk about the weather, work, the baby. Jackson held my hand under the table the entire time.

Midway through the meal, my mother set her fork down and folded her hands. “Elizabeth,” she began. “We were thinking... with the baby coming, maybe it’s best if you two—well, if things were handled quietly. A clean break would be easier. For everyone.”

I blinked. “What are you talking about?”

Pearl chimed in. “You know this marriage isn’t... built to last. It doesn’t have to be messy. We can make it all look calm and respectable. We’ll take care of everything. You don’t need to worry about the media, or your image. It’s for your own good.”

I laughed. It just slipped out, dry and shocked.

“We’re not getting divorced,” I said.

There was a pause. Even my father looked up.

My mother frowned. “Sweetheart—”

“No,” I said, louder this time. “Not now. Not ever. Unless I say so. Not you. Not Pearl. Not anyone.”

The room went quiet.

Pearl looked annoyed. “You’re being emotional.”

I stood up. The chair scraped loudly against the floor.

“You invited us here to pretend. But we’re not pretending anymore,” I said. “I came to see if you could change. But I have. I’m not scared of you. Not ashamed. Not bending backwards to please you.”

I looked at my father, waiting for him to say something. Anything.

He stayed silent.

That told me everything I needed to know.

Jackson stood beside me and placed a hand gently on my back.

“I think we’re done here,” I said, turning toward the door.

As we walked out, my mom called after me. “Elizabeth, don’t do this. You’re making a mistake.”

I paused by the front door. “No. I made that mistake a long time ago, thinking you’d ever really care.”

And then I walked out.

\---

Outside, the air was cool. The stars were faint, but they were there.

Jackson opened the car door for me, then got in on his side. We sat there for a while, both of us quiet.

He reached for my hand. I let him hold it.

“You okay?” he asked.

I nodded slowly. “I think so. That was... hard.”

“You did great.”

I looked over at him. “Thank you. For coming. For not saying anything in there unless I needed you to.”

He smiled faintly. “You didn’t need me to fight your battles. You already won.”

We drove home with the windows cracked, letting the breeze rush in.

Back at the house, I kicked off my shoes and dropped my bag by the door.

“I need water,” I mumbled.

Jackson followed me into the kitchen. He opened the fridge, pulled out a bottle, and handed it to me.

We sat at the kitchen table in silence. I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling.

“Do you think they’ll ever change?” I asked.

He was quiet for a moment. “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. But you don’t need them to.”

“I guess not,” I said. “Still hurts, though.”

He reached out and placed a hand over mine. “I know.”

A few minutes passed. Then I yawned, stretching my arms.

“Bed?” Jackson asked.

“Yeah.”

We climbed the stairs slowly, like we were carrying the weight of everything unsaid.

That night, we didn’t talk about the dinner again. He just held me while I curled into his side. For once, I didn’t try to be strong. I just let myself feel.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt like I wasn’t alone.

\---