WE DON’T TALK ANYMORE
Part - 2
Disclaimer:
“Reblogs are welcome, but please don’t repost or remove credit.”
"This is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and situations depicted are entirely fictional and created for storytelling purposes only. "
"While inspired by realistic themes of emotional distance and relationship strain, this story is not intended to reflect any real individuals or relationships. "
"Reader discretion is advised due to themes of emotional exhaustion and subtle marital tension."
---
Title: The Day Felt Heavy
Pairing: Jay x Reader
Genre: Domestic angst, realistic relationship tension
Warnings: Emotional exhaustion, subtle marital distance, no smut
---
---
It started like any other weekday.
Jay had left early.
You barely remembered hearing him grab his keys, a whisper of cologne and coffee before the front door clicked shut. No kiss. No goodbye. Not even the soft brush of his fingertips on your back like he used to do when he thought you were asleep.
The house was quiet when you finally got out of bed. Too quiet for a family of four.
You moved like a machine—waking the kids, preparing their bags, rushing breakfast, checking your work emails with one hand while tying your son’s shoelaces with the other. You were used to doing it mostly alone now. Not because Jay didn’t care—but because somewhere along the way, showing it became too much effort for both of you.
You dropped the kids off, drove to work, sat in traffic with the radio low—just enough to drown your own thoughts.
He hadn’t texted.
Not even a check-in.
---
At work, you sat at your desk and stared at your screen for twenty minutes before actually opening your inbox. A message from HR. A meeting rescheduled. Another bill reminder.
Another day where the only real emotion you felt was exhaustion.
You checked your phone around lunch. Still nothing from Jay.
So you texted first.
> Did you take your umbrella? It’s supposed to rain later.
Three dots appeared. Then disappeared.
A few seconds passed.
> Yeah. Thanks.
That was it.
No heart. No emoji. Not even your name at the end like he used to write, back when he was still trying.
---
By the time you got home, the kids were already asking if Dad would be home for dinner.
> “Maybe,” you said. “If he finishes work early.”
You didn’t bother texting to ask.
You cooked without thinking—rice, leftover stew, a fried egg for your daughter because she hated the stew. You set four plates out, knowing full well only three would be used.
At 7:42 p.m., you heard keys in the door.
Jay walked in, loosened his tie, dropped his bag by the door, and toed off his shoes in silence. His shirt was wrinkled. His hair slightly damp from the rain. You caught his eyes for a second when he walked past the dining table.
> “Hey,” he said quietly.
> “Hey.”
That was it.
---
He didn’t eat right away. Just disappeared into the bedroom to shower.
The kids asked him how work was when he came back out, and he answered like a good father—warm, polite, even laughing once when your son told him about a bug he found in the school bathroom. But when you cleared the table and walked past him to get to the sink, his eyes didn’t follow you. He didn’t ask how your day was.
He hadn’t asked in weeks.
---
You washed the dishes slowly.
Water too hot. Eyes burning.
Jay sat behind you on his phone, scrolling, occasionally checking on the kids.
It all looked… normal.
But it didn’t feel normal.
You wiped your hands and turned around.
He didn’t notice.
> “Did you eat at work today?” you asked finally.
He nodded, still not looking up.
> “Yeah.”
---
Your chest tightened. Not because of what he said—just because of how little it all meant now.
You bit the inside of your cheek.
> “You don’t really talk to me anymore,” you said, barely above a whisper.
Jay looked up. His expression didn’t change right away, but his brows pulled together ever so slightly. Like your words didn’t register at first. Or like they did, but he didn’t know how to respond.
> “I’m tired,” he said eventually. “I’m really trying.”
You swallowed.
> “So am I.”
That silence again. That loud, horrible silence that said too much.
---
Later that night, the house was dark. The kids were asleep.
You were in bed already when Jay walked in, towel around his neck, hair damp, phone still in hand. He moved slowly, like he was trying not to make any noise.
But you were awake.
You just didn’t tell him.
---
He got into bed without a word, pulling the blanket up over his shoulder and facing the opposite direction.
The space between you was only a few inches wide, but it felt like an entire lifetime.
And just when you thought he had fallen asleep, you felt it—
His hand.
Barely brushing your pinky under the blanket. Soft. Hesitant.
You didn’t move.
You didn’t pull away.
But you didn’t hold it either.
Because even that touch—small as it was—felt heavier than anything either of you had said in weeks.
---
His hand.
Barely brushing your pinky under the blanket. Soft. Hesitant.
You didn’t move.
You didn’t pull away.
But you didn’t hold it either.
Because even that touch—small as it was—felt heavier than anything either of you had said in weeks.
You stared at the wall, eyes wide open in the dark, as your heart thudded quietly in your chest.
You wanted to say something.
Even just his name.
Even just “I miss us.”
But all you could do was blink, because if you opened your mouth now, the tears might spill too.
A few moments passed.
Then, he moved his hand away slowly.
And you knew he felt the wall between you too.
You were still lying in the same bed.
Still sleeping under the same blanket.
Still technically married.
But in that moment, you both realized:
You weren’t talking anymore.
Not really.
—
And maybe the saddest part was
—
Neither of you knew how to start again.
You were both still here.
But somehow, still not really together.
----
THANKS FOR READING IT
Hope you all liked it.
Part 3:
💬 0 🔁 0 ❤️ 2 · WE DON’T TALK ANYMORE— JAY FICTION · Part—3 Disclaimers: “This work is a fanfiction and is purely a product of imaginatio
