Act Like You Love Me (Jessica) novel Chapter 137

Chapter 137

Jessica’s POV

I whistled a low, timeless melody as I walked out of my room, the plastic laundry basket tucked under my arm.

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The scent of detergent wafted up from the clothes-a normal, everyday smell I was trying to use to ground myself. I just wanted to focus on the normalcy of it: fold, sort, repeat.

I needed something, anything, to keep my mind from drifting back to the grief that had been suffocating me for days.

The house was draped in a heavy, afternoon stillness.

Sunlight cut through the hallway in lazy, golden beams, illuminating dust motes that danced in the air.

Adrian was at school, and for a fleeting, fragile moment, a sliver of peace tiptoed in. It was the kind of quiet that almost convinced me I was okay.

But just when I thought I could finally forget-if only for the length of a laundry cycle-1 passed her room.

My heart didn’t just sink; it felt like it hit the floor and shattered stopped mid-step, my eyes fixated on the wood grain.

The door was locked now-permanently, until we left this house.

Aaron had seen me wandering into her room at three in the morning, sitting in the dark and inhaling the fading scent of her perfume until I was hysterical.

He’d changed the locks the next day, keeping the only key for himself.

He didn’t do it to be cruel; he did it because he couldn’t stand to see me picking at the scab of my own grief, hurting myself just to feel close to her.

My steps faltered, the basket suddenly heavy in my arms. The hallway felt colder here, as if the air remembered her absence.

“Aunt,” I whispered, my voice barely audible, half-hoping she’d answer, knock from inside and yell for me to open up, that it had all been some cruel prank.

Unfortunately, that was just my imagination; a desperate fantasy that could never come to life.

The silence mocked me, and tears pricked my eyes, hot and unwelcome.

I leaned my forehead against the door for a second, the wood cool against my skin, before forcing myself to keep moving.

One foot in front of the other. That’s all I could do.

I was halfway through sorting the whites from the colors in the undry room when a sharp knock echoed from the front

door.

My brow furrowed.

Aaron now had access, and Adrian wouldn’t be home until 12 pm I wiped my damp hands on my shorts and walked to the foyer.

I peered through the sidelight and froze. It was Fiona.

She looked… different. Her blonde hair had been dyed a deep, rh brown shade that actually suited her, taking away that harsh, ‘queen bee edge she used to carry in high school.

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Chapter 137

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She wasn’t the kind of striking, cinematic beauty that stopped trific, but she was attractive in a grounded, confident way.

That undeniable self-assurance was likely what had drawn Aaron to her years ago-before everything went to hell.

I swallowed a thick lump of old resentment and pulled the door open just a crack.

“Hi,” Fiona said, waving with a humble smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, as if she knew she was treading on thin ice.

“Aaron isn’t here,” I said quickly. My voice was flat, my instincts mediately kicking in to build a wall between us.

She chuckled softly and shook her head, looking down at her fee for a second before meeting my eyes again.

“I know. I’m actually here to see you, Jess.”

I blinked, stunned.

I’d heard the whispers-countless times-from Aaron and David that Fiona was trying to change.

She’d actually proven it in small, quiet ways during that soul-crushing week after Aunt Lydia died.

She had been a shadow presence at the hospital, helping with Adrian without being asked, and staying in the background instead of being the spotlight-stealing force she’d once been.

But seeing her at my front door was different.

“Me?” I asked, my tone laced with doubt. I didn’t move from the doorway.

She nodded, her expression unreadable but humble. I stared at her for a long minute, weighing years of misery against the

present.

Finally, I shifted to the side, letting her in. I closed the door behind her but didn’t turn the deadbolt. I wanted a quick exit, just in case this was a trap.

My mind was still hardwired to expect the worst from her.

Fiona looked around the place, her eyes taking in the open layout, the cozy living room with its plush couches and family photos on the walls.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, then turned to me with a sad smile.

“He really does love you.” She pointed it out like an observation, hot a jab.

I didn’t know what to say, so I remained mute, arms crossed profectively over my chest.

What was I supposed to say to the woman who had made my high school years a living nightmare? To the woman who had cheated on the man I loved with his own cousin, leaving me to pece his shattered heart back together while she mocked us from the sidelines?

I wondered if she realized that her “change of heart” didn’t erase he scars she’d left behind.

Fiona seemed to notice the storm in my mind, her shoulders sagging slightly.

She sighed, taking a tentative step forward. I didn’t move. I felt like a statue carved from ice.

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