Chapter 172: She Wanted Him

Chapter 172: Chapter 172: She Wanted Him

You are my future, Zoya.

The words played on a relentless loop inside Janice’s mind. She sat on the edge of her childhood bed, staring at her phone. The morning light filtered through the blinds, casting pale stripes across her hands.

She was not angry that Jackson defended his fiancée. She was hurt because he chose another woman so effortlessly. It was a natural reflex for him. He did not hesitate.

Janice opened her message thread with Jackson. She watched the blinking cursor.

Can we talk?

She hit the backspace key until the screen was clear.

Are you busy today?

She deleted that too. She did not want to look desperate. She needed a reason to be in his orbit that he would not question.

Mom wanted me to drop off the files you left in the study. Will you be at the office?

The reply came two minutes later.

I am here all day. Come by whenever.

Janice locked her screen. She got up to get dressed.

An hour later, she pushed open the door to Jackson’s office. He was hunched over his desk, typing rapidly on his laptop. He barely looked up when she walked in.

Janice placed the manila folder on the corner of his desk. She took a seat in the leather chair opposite him and just watched him work.

Five minutes passed. Jackson hit the send button on an email and finally leaned back, rubbing his eyes.

"Thanks for bringing those," Jackson said.

"You’re different," Janice noted.

Jackson lowered his hands. "Different how?"

"You used to make time for me," Janice said.

Jackson offered a faint smile. "I have a demanding job now, Janice. And I have a fiancée now."

She laughed, but the sound felt hollow in her own ears. "Is everything about Zoya now?"

Jackson noticed the shift in her tone. His smile faded. He looked at her with genuine confusion.

"No," Jackson replied. He picked up his pen and tapped it against the desk. "But she is my fiancée. She is obviously going to be a major part of my life."

The answer stung. It was practical and firm.

Janice covered the sting with a quick nod. "I know."

She shifted in her chair and pointed toward the door. "Do you have time for lunch? We could go to that Italian place we used to visit with Dad."

Jackson glanced at his calendar. "I have forty minutes."

"That is plenty of time."

The restaurant was only two blocks away. They grabbed a small booth near the back. Janice did not wait for the waiter to ask for their orders.

"He will have the chicken parmesan," Janice told the waiter. "And an iced black coffee, two espresso shots."

Jackson laughed as the waiter walked away. "You still remember the exact coffee order."

"I told you," Janice said, resting her chin on her hand. "I remember everything about you."

For twenty minutes, Janice steered the conversation into safe waters. She brought up an old ski trip. She reminded him of a disastrous cooking attempt they made in college. Jackson laughed. He relaxed into the booth. For a very brief window of time, Janice got the version of Jackson she wanted. The version that existed before Zoya.

Then his phone rang.

The screen flashed Zoya’s name.

Jackson’s relaxed expression changed instantly, replaced by a soft, focused warmth. He answered the call on the first ring.

"Hey," Jackson said. His voice was lower than it had been a minute ago.

Janice watched him. She watched the way his eyes softened. She listened to him discuss evening plans.

"I will see you after work," Jackson promised. "Love you too."

He hung up and placed the phone on the table.

Janice picked up her water glass. "You really love her?"

Jackson did not hesitate. He did not look away.

"Yes," Jackson said simply.

It was a single word. It carried no grand explanation. It did not need one.

The rejection sliced right through Janice’s chest. She forced her mouth into a bright, convincing curve.

"I was just curious," Janice said.

Later that evening, Zoya sat on her living room rug, sorting through a pile of legal briefs. Jackson was sitting on the sofa behind her, reading a contract.

"I had lunch with Janice today," Jackson mentioned casually.

Zoya stopped highlighting a paragraph. She set her pen down. She did not feel a spike of jealousy. She felt a very familiar caution. She knew Janice’s feelings were far from normal sibling affection.

"How did that go?" Zoya asked.

"Fine," Jackson said, flipping a page. "She brought some files from my parents’ house. We went to the Italian place down the street."

Zoya turned around to look at him. "Does she still think she can change your mind?"

Jackson looked up from his contract. He frowned in genuine confusion.

"About what?" Jackson asked.

Zoya studied his face. He truly did not see it. He saw a sister trying to reconnect. He missed the quiet, desperate romantic attachment hiding beneath the nostalgia.

Zoya picked her pen back up. There was no point in accusing Janice without solid proof. Jackson would just defend his family.

"Nothing," Zoya said.

Across town, Janice sat at the kitchen island in Luca and Andrea’s house.

Andrea was brewing tea. The house was quiet. Luca was already asleep upstairs.

Andrea poured hot water into two ceramic mugs and slid one across the marble counter.

"You are quiet tonight," Andrea noted.

Janice wrapped her hands around the warm mug. She stared at the dark liquid.

"What if someone realizes too late that they lost their chance?" Janice asked.

Andrea stopped moving. She set the kettle down. She did not pretend to misunderstand the question. She knew exactly who Janice was talking about.

"Then they have to accept that the other person chose someone else," Andrea said. Her tone was gentle but firm.

Janice looked away from the mug. She stared at the dark window.

"What if they don’t?" Janice asked.

Andrea became very serious. She walked around the island and stood next to her adopted daughter.

"Then they are going to hurt everyone involved," Andrea warned. "Including themselves."

Janice did not answer. She took a sip of her tea.

An hour later, Janice closed her bedroom door. The house was asleep.

She opened the bottom drawer of her nightstand and pulled out a small stack of photographs. They were old family pictures. Holidays. Graduations. Birthdays.

She was not smiling at the memories. She was looking at Jackson.

She pulled out her phone and opened a social media app. Zoya’s profile was public. Janice scrolled down until she found a recent picture of Jackson and Zoya at a charity gala.

Janice studied Zoya. The sleek dress. The confident smile. The way Jackson had his arm wrapped securely around her waist.

This was the woman standing beside him. The woman he called his future. The woman getting the ring, the wedding, and the life.

Janice let her phone drop onto the bed.

"It should have been me," Janice whispered to the empty room.

It was the very first time she admitted the truth to herself. She did not say it to Jackson. She did not say it to Andrea. The secret lived in the dark space of her own mind.

Her phone buzzed against the mattress.

She picked it up. A new message from Jackson glowed on the screen.

Mom wants everyone together Saturday. Don’t disappear.

Janice stared at the text.

She typed a response.

I won’t.

She hit send. She looked back at the photograph of Jackson and Zoya on the screen. She deleted the innocent, sisterly smile from her face.

Janice had spent years believing that loving Jackson quietly was enough. She thought time would eventually work in her favor. She thought they would naturally find their way to each other once he grew out of his restless phase.

Now she was finally beginning to understand something far more dangerous.

She wanted him.