The drive to Mr. Jenkins' house felt longer than usual. Theo tapped the steering wheel anxiously, rehearsing his words, unsure how to explain the unease that had begun to haunt his home. It wasn't that Lena had stopped loving him—at least he didn't think so. But something had changed.
She smiled, yes. She worked, she cooked, she slept in his arms. But behind those eyes… something flickered and retreated like a wave at low tide. And Theo, for all his devotion, had no idea how to bring her back.
When he pulled up to the modest bungalow that Mr. Jenkins had lived in since before Lena was born, he paused. The garden was freshly trimmed, the same sun-bleached chair sat near the porch, and the little bell over the door still jingled when he knocked.
Mr. Jenkins answered with a wide smile and a warm handshake. "Theo! You're here. Come in, come in."
Theo followed him into the sitting room, comforted by the familiar scent of books, coffee, and something earthy—like time itself had soaked into the walls.
"Would you like something to drink?" the older man asked.
"Just water, thank you," Theo replied, settling onto the well-worn sofa.
Mr. Jenkins returned with two glasses and sat across from him. "So, tell me what brings my son-in-law here without my daughter."
Theo smiled faintly. "I needed to talk. Just… man to man."
The older man leaned back, nodding. "That sounds serious. Is everything alright?"
Theo hesitated, then exhaled slowly. "I don't know. Lena's… distant. She says she's tired, or that it's hormones, but I feel like something's pulling her away from me. And I don't know what I did wrong."
Mr. Jenkins didn't speak immediately. Instead, he reached for the wooden box on the side table, pulling out a small cigar. He didn't light it—just held it between his fingers like it grounded him in the moment.
"She's always been that way," he said finally. "Carries too much. Keeps her pain silent."
Theo looked up.
"Even as a girl," the man continued, "Lena was the kind who bottled things up. After her mother died, she stopped talking for nearly a year. Not that she couldn't—but she just… shut down. Went to school. Got good grades. Came home. But her eyes? They were far away."
Theo felt his chest tighten.
"She's strong," Mr. Jenkins said. "Stronger than most people I know. But even the strongest people have limits. And when she can't express what's breaking her, she hides it."
"I wish she wouldn't," Theo said quietly. "I'd carry it for her if she let me."
"She knows," the older man said with a gentle smile. "But sometimes, love isn't about what we can carry—it's about what we're allowed to."
Theo ran a hand over his face. "I just want to know what I can do. She's pregnant, and I'm trying to be there for her… but there are days when I feel like I'm married to a ghost."
There was a pause.
Then Mr. Jenkins spoke again, softer this time. "You know, there was a boy before you."
Theo's head lifted.
"She was young. In university. Quiet about it, but I knew. His name was James. Her first heartbreak." He stared at the table like the memory sat there beside the water glass. "He was charming, full of promises. But he broke her. Left her when things got too real. She didn't cry where I could see her—but I heard her one night. From her room."
Theo swallowed. "She never told me."
"She wouldn't," Mr. Jenkins said. "But I think that kind of heartbreak leaves something behind. It changes how you trust. How you open."
There was silence between them for a while. The old fan creaked softly above their heads, spinning stories into the air.
"I know she loves you," Mr. Jenkins said at last. "You're the man she chose to marry. And Lena's not the type to choose lightly. But whatever she's carrying now, you need to be patient."
Theo nodded. "I can be. I just… I feel helpless."
"That's love sometimes," the older man said. "Helpless and raw. And still—choosing to stay."
They sat for another long stretch of quiet. Then Theo cleared his throat.
"She's always talking about being strong," he said. "Always putting everyone first. But I'm scared she's hurting herself by doing that."
Mr. Jenkins leaned forward. "Then remind her. That she doesn't have to. That this time, she's allowed to lean. Even if she thinks she can't."
Theo took a deep breath. "Thank you, sir. Really."
The old man smiled. "You know… you remind me of myself, a long time ago. When I fell in love with her mother."
Theo chuckled. "She ever drive you crazy?"
"Every single day," Mr. Jenkins grinned. "But it was the best madness of my life."
Theo stood to leave, lighter somehow. Not because he had answers—but because he understood now: Lena was wrestling ghosts he couldn't see. But he could love her through the shadows.
As he reached the door, Mr. Jenkins called after him. "And Theo?"
"Yes, sir?"
"When the time comes—and it will—whatever truth Lena is afraid to tell you… forgive her. If your love is real, forgive her."
Theo nodded, a knot forming in his throat.
He didn't know then how prophetic those words would be.
As the afternoon sun stretched long across the sky, Mr. Jenkins stood up with a grunt. "Come on, Theo. Let me show you something."
Theo followed him out the back door, where a small but thriving garden greeted them—neatly planted rows of vegetables, herbs, and a section rich with berries, apples, and strawberries. A hose lay coiled nearby, and the old man picked it up with practiced ease, turning the knob gently as water sprayed in a fine arc.
"This is my sanctuary," Mr. Jenkins said, offering the hose to Theo. "Help me water while we talk."
Theo smiled and took the hose, moving along the rows with careful hands.
Mr. Jenkins leaned against the wooden fence, his eyes on the plants. "You know… I haven't told many people this, but I wasn't always a good man to my wife."
Theo paused mid-spray, surprised. "Really?"
The older man nodded, slowly. "Yes. Years ago, before Lena was even born. I was younger. Stupid, to be honest. There was a woman at my workplace—beautiful, charming. And for a moment, I let myself believe I needed more than what I already had."
Theo didn't speak, sensing the weight in his father-in-law's voice.
"I cheated," Mr. Jenkins admitted. "Just once. But once was enough. It broke something in my wife. She found out—not because I told her, but because women always know. She didn't scream. She didn't pack her bags. She just stopped looking at me the same way."
He exhaled, eyes clouded by memory.
"It took years, Theo. Years of apologizing. Years of proving myself again. I became a better man not because she asked me to, but because I had to look at myself in the mirror. I had to become the kind of husband my daughter could look up to one day."
Theo's throat was tight. "Did she forgive you?"
"She did. In her own way. But she never forgot. And I don't blame her." He looked Theo in the eye. "That's why I'm telling you this. If ever—God forbid—you're tempted, or if there's a secret you think you can keep... don't. Nothing good grows in darkness. Secrets ruin a marriage long before the truth does."
Theo nodded slowly. "I'll remember that."
Mr. Jenkins smiled, his face softening. "Good. You're a good man, Theo. I know my daughter chose well. Just be careful with her heart—it's more fragile than she lets on."
The two men worked silently for a while, letting the rhythm of watering calm the air between them. After the last plant was soaked and glistening in the sun, Mr. Jenkins reached down and began gathering fruit from the garden basket.
"Here," he said, handing Theo a large container full of berries, apples, and freshly picked strawberries. "For Lena. She always loved these. Tell her they're from her old man."
Theo grinned, touched by the gesture. "Thank you, sir."
They walked back toward the house, the warm late-afternoon light casting golden rays around them.
As Theo got into his car and turned the engine, Mr. Jenkins raised a hand in farewell. "Take care of each other, son."
Theo nodded back, the words planted deep in his chest like seeds. He didn't know what was coming, but he knew now—whatever it was, he had to be ready to face it, honestly and completely.