I Stopped Chasing Him After Ten Years And Never Looked Back Chapter 09

I Stopped Chasing Him After Ten Years And Never Looked Back Chapter 09

Starting the next day, Jared was like a completely different person.

He got up at six every morning to make breakfast.

The first day, he made porridge that was half raw.

The second day, he fried eggs that were burnt on one side.

The third day, he made sandwiches, with the bread toasted to a crisp like charcoal. He scraped at it for ages, but it was still black.

Cora stared at the slice of bread and whispered, “Daddy, just give up.”

He didn’t give up.

On the fourth morning, the table had a bowl of white rice, a plate of pickles, and two boiled eggs.

The porridge was decent. The eggs were peeled and set in front of Cora.

He stood beside us, watching us eat, and didn’t sit down himself.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Cora asked.

“I’m not hungry. You two eat first.”

That used to be my line. Every morning, I’d make breakfast, watch them eat, and eat last myself.

He’d always thought breakfast just appeared out of thin air.

Now he finally knew what it felt like to get up at six.

That weekend, he suggested the three of us go to the park.

I agreed.

Not because I softened, but because Cora wanted to go.

The park was crowded, with warm spring sunshine.

Cora ran ahead chasing pigeons, and Jared walked beside me.

He walked slowly. Before, he always walked five steps ahead of me, and I had to jog to keep up.

Today, he deliberately slowed his pace to match mine.

We reached a bench by the lake, and he sat down.

“Tisha, I’ve been thinking a lot lately.”

“Mm.”

“I… really didn’t do well before.”

“Mm.”

“All those things you said, all those messages you sent, I went back and read them all.”

I looked out at the lake.

Two ducks were swimming on the water, behind the other, far apart.

“You went back and read them?”

“Yeah. All those long messages you sent me before, I never deleted them.”

I turned to look at him.

He wasn’t lying.

His eyes were bloodshot, the kind of red that comes from not sleeping well lately.

“Four hundred and thirty-seven of them.” He said quietly.

“From the first year of our marriage, to your last message two months ago. I read every single one.”

My breath caught.

Four hundred and thirty-seven.

I’d thought he never even opened them.

All those late-night messages, written and rewritten, word by word, he’d actually kept them all.

“You kept them, but you never replied.” My voice was calmer than I expected.

“That’s right.” He said.

“I read all those messages. After reading them, I realized… you weren’t being dramatic. You were crying out for help.”

His voice started to shake.

“Every single one of your messages told me ‘I’m so sad.’ I saw it, but I pretended I didn’t.”

“Because if I replied, I’d have to face it, talk about it, deal with it.”

“I was lazy.”

“I was too lazy to face your feelings, so I pretended you were just being dramatic.”

He hung his head, his hands clasped on his knees.

“I’m sorry.”

Kids ran past in the park, flying kites and screaming with laughter.

Cora was squatting not far away, watching ants.

“Jared.” I said.

He looked up.

“If you’d said all this five years ago, we wouldn’t be where we are today.”

His eyes dimmed.

“Even if you’d said it a year ago, things would be different.”

“But you chose to say it now.”

“It’s only because I stopped chasing you that you started to be afraid.”

“It’s not because you love me. It’s because you’re used to being loved.”

He bit his lip and didn’t argue. Because he knew I was right.

I stood up, brushing the grass off my skirt.

“Let’s go. Cora must be hungry.”

He sat on the bench and didn’t move.

I didn’t wait for him.

Before, I always waited.

Now I’d learned to walk ahead on my own.