Somewhere Else–2
I nod slowly, careful with my expression. “Yeah.”
He lets me go then leans against the counter, arms crossed, studying me. “And you? How are you feeling about everything?”
My stomach tightens. “I’m fine.”
It’s a lie. I know it, but I smile anyway and go back to covering the vegetables in olive oil.
We finish making dinner, mostly in silence. The clinks of silverware and the simmering
pot fill the space where words should go. When we sit down to eat, I try again.
“How’s everything going?” I ask, spearing a piece of roasted zucchini.
Jake sighs, the sound is heavy and tired. “The board’s pushing me to step down. Sell my
shares. The stock’s tanked since the story broke.”
I freeze mid–bite. “Jake, I’m so sorry.”
He waves it off with a bitter twist of his mouth. “It’s my fault. I don’t lose all of my
money, so I can’t complain.”
I don’t have anything to say to that, my eyes going to the hallways that leads to the
stairs, wondering when Zaid will make an appearance.
We clean the dishes together. I watch the soap bubble around our fingers, feel the water
rush over my hands. Flashes of memories cross my mind, of home back in Arizona.
Of when it was so easy to drown the noise and the grief getting lost in their arms and in their kisses. Now, I faced the dark alone, cried myself to sleep.
When will things feel easy like that again?
We finish the dishes and head upstairs. The bedroom light is warm and Jake’s things are spread across the floor.
The bed is exactly how I left it, and my journal sits right at the center of it. Jake picks it up before I can stop him, turning it curiously in his hands.
1/3
Somewhere Else–2
I laugh awkwardly, plucking it from his fingers. “That’s private.”
He grins, hands raised. “My apologies, baby.”
We get ready for bed. He brushes his teeth while I tie my hair up. His cologne hangs in the air, and I blink a few times at the bathroom mirror, unsure what I’m looking for.
I feel off.
“How’s it been here?” he asks when we climb under the sheets. “Aside from Zaid being
Zaid.”
He says it like it’s something bad and I’m not sure how to take that. I settle into the pillow, tucking the blanket under my arm. “It’s been good. I started therapy. Met my
father’s sister.”
He turns his head toward me, a frown on his face. “I didn’t think therapy was your thing.”
I sigh.“I didn’t either, but it’s been helping.”
He hums, noncommittal, then adds, “Didn’t realize you had family here either.”
My throat tightens at that. Zaid knew. He paid attention.
I don’t respond. I don’t need to.
Jake shifts closer, his fingers tracing a path up my arm. His touch is gentle, familiar. He leans in, kissing me softly. “I missed you.”
I don’t answer. He kisses me again, slower. His hand slides to my hip.
I let him, but somewhere between his kiss and his fingertips, I realize I’m not really here. My body is, maybe. But my mind is somewhere else. Caught in that strange space between habit and guilt and obligation.
I used to crave this.
Used to find comfort in his touch.
Now? Now, I feel disconnected. Like I’m playing a role I’ve outgrown.
2/3
Somewhere Else–2
His lips brush my shoulder, and I close my eyes, willing my heartbeat to find some rhythm that makes sense.
It doesn’t. And I think about how this isn’t what I want. Not anymore.
But I don’t say it, the words stay stuck in my throat.
