We dry in silence, and when Jared reaches for me, I grip his hand while my emotions skyrocket. It’s like all his pain is transferred in that small touch. We walk to his room, and with each step, his features continue to tighten.
Once we’re in his room, Jared strips off the rest of his clothes. He’s standing still, holding the key in his hand. He’s lost in his thoughts, and pain tears through me as tears roll down his face. I’m frozen, broken, as my chest threatens to cave in. Jared takes the key from around his neck and places it on the top of the chest of drawers. He half looks at me before going to his walk-in wardrobe. With him out of sight, my heart palpitates, and I take quick, deep breaths.
Don’t cry, Layla. Don’t cry, I chant in my head. Yet tears escape, and I wipe them away quickly as Jared returns dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt. He hands me sweatpants and a T-shirt as well.