Act Like You Love Me (Jessica) novel Chapter 119

Chapter 119

Jessica’s POV

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The plastic spoon trembled in my hand as I fed Aunt Lydia the last of the bland hospital porridge.

The room smelled of antiseptic and fading hope, a scent that had become my entire world over the last few days.

Then, the heavy door groaned open, and the gloom didn’t just lift, it was obliterated.

“Momma!”

The word was a sunburst. Adrian exploded into the room, a vibrant, chaotic blur of a multi-colored hat and crisp new clothes that smelled of “expensive” and “new.”

“Addie!” My voice broke, the name coming out as a jagged sob.

I dropped the spoon, not caring where it landed, and gathered him into my arms.

He was warm, he was real, and he smelled like ‘living life to the fullest.’ If that made any

sense.

I squeezed him until he giggled, that sweet, bubbly sound acting like a suture to my bleeding heart.

“Auntie, look! Superstar got me a secret agent hat!” He chirped, scrambling onto the chair beside Aunt Lydia’s bed.

I stood back, my hands trembling against my thighs, watching him pull aunt Lydia into his bright, untainted world.

For a second, my heart beat in a normal rhythm. For a second, I felt like I could breathe.

Then, the light in the doorway vanished as a shadow cut across the floor, and suddenly, breathing felt like a luxury I could no longer afford. It was as if the room itself held its breath.

Aaron stepped in, bringing a cold, mountain-air stillness with him.

He was silent, yet his presence spoke in a roar, pressing against my ribs until I thought my heart might stop

Our eyes locked, and the six years of silence between us vanished, replaced by a screaming, crowded void.

I saw the accusation I expected, and the pain I deserved.

“Superstar was amazing, Momma!” Adrian’s voice sliced through the tension.

He began rattling off a breathless list: the cinema, the arcade, the ice cream.

I tried to listen, I tried to smile, but my focus was pinned on Aaron.

He was a statue carved from ice. A wall of stone I had built myself and now couldn’t find a way to climb,

He walked past me, his shoulder brushing mine-a contact so brief it should have meant nothing, yet it felt like an electric

shock.

He walked over to Aunt Lydia, ignoring me entirely,

“How are you feeling, Lydia?” his voice was low, filtered through a politeness that felt more painful than a shout.

“I feel much better. Thank you, Aaron,” she whispered, her eyes moving between us, sensing the wreckage.

“I’ve taken care of the bills,” he said, his tone clipped and professional. “The hospital, the surgery, the recovery. Everything.

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Chapter 119

You won’t have to worry about a thing.”

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I felt a surge of awe and shame. Even now, while I was a villain in his story, he was acting as the protector of mine.

He was providing a safety net I had no right to claim.

Aaron looked over at Adrian, who was busy unboxing a new action figure in the corner.

When Adrian caught Aaron’s eye, his excitement vanished in a heartbeat. The toy in his hand lowered until it clicked against the tiles.

For a five-and-a-half-year-old, he was terrifyingly intuitive.

He didn’t just see people; he read them, picking up on the invisible frequencies of tension and grief that adults think they’re hiding.

It made my heart ache to realize he’d spent his short life learning to decode the shadows in his mother’s eyes.

He didn’t need a formal goodbye to understand the sudden, focused weight of Aaron’s gaze. He knew the look of a man with one foot already out the door.

“You’re leaving?”

“I have to, bud,” Aaron said. I saw his mask slip for the briefest of seconds, his voice softening into something tender.

“But this… this is going to happen more often. I promise.”

His gaze flickered to me as he said it. The promise wasn’t just for Adrian; it was a warning to me.

I swallowed hard, the magnitude of the truth I still had to tell Adrian pressing down on me.

I couldn’t keep letting my son look at his own father with that confused, longing sadness.

Aaron leaned down and pressed a kiss to Adrian’s forehead. It was a silent claim of fatherhood that made my knees weak.

He gave Aunt Lydia a respectful nod, then turned to me. There was no warmth in his eyes, just a cold, hard stare-down.

Then, he turned and walked out.

My heart shattered on the linoleum floor. I couldn’t let him leave like that. I practically ran into the hallway.

“Aaron!” I called softly.

He stopped, his broad shoulders tensing under his jacket. He turned, his brown eyes meeting mine with such intensity I nearly lost my breath.

I had to look at my feet just to keep from crumbling.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, the words rushing out like blood from a wound. “Thank you. For not telling him yet… for the bills… for being so good to him today.”

He nodded once, a stiff, robotic motion. His jaw was set so tight I thought it might crack.

He turned to leave, and in a moment of pure desperation, I reached out.

My fingers grazed the expensive material of his sleeve-a touch I had no right to, but couldn’t help.

“If it makes it any better,” I choked out, tears finally spilling over, “I documented it all. Every single moment you missed. I have videos of his first steps, his first word… every single birthday. I saved them all for you. I thought… maybe one day you’d

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Chapter 119

want to see them.”

Aaron tilted his head, and then he laughed. It was a dry sound that chilled me to the bones.

“You think digital memories make up for six years of being a ghost?”

He raised a brow, his expression twisting into something mocking and cruel.

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“You think a few pixels on a screen fill the hole of not being there to catch him when he fell? You think a video replaces the smell of his hair or the weight of him in my arms?”

I flinched as if he’d slapped me, and looked away, the offer feeling pathetic, a cheap band-aid on a bullet wound.

“I am sorry,” I whispered, the words feeling useless.

He let out a long, jagged breath that sounded like he was trying to vent the rage out of his system.

He started to walk away, then he stopped, and looked back over his shoulder.

“And Jess? Learn to stop running away from problems. Face them for once.”.

I blinked, confused, until his next words came.

“The next time you think about jumping off a bridge, remember this: I’ll make sure you don’t rest in peace for hurting me and our son again. Don’t be a coward twice.”

He turned a corner and was gone.

I stood in the hallway, my hand over my mouth, my knees shaking.

How did he know? Mabel. It had to be her.

My secret shame was now another weapon in his hand.

Aaron didn’t just hate me for leaving; he hated me for almost leaving Adrian for good.

I had tried to give him memories, but all I’d given him was more reasons to despise me.

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