Better? Worse?

Jackson had gone with Mrs. Jones to drop her off, and he might not come back, she did hope he didn't, it would be better to talk to her and try clearing the misunderstanding. The truth always found ways to out, but not like this. Not when she was sick, weak, and helpless and the only place she knew to draw strength from turned out to be nonexistent, an imaginary build-up. Maria tried putting herself in Mrs. Jones' position, she'd be torn too, and she would crack, even though their intentions were pure, just as she said, a lie was still a lie. There was no sugarcoating it. Maria relived standing in the middle of the room with Mrs. Jones penetrating gaze grazing her skin, with nothing to say, no explanation. She had stared like an idiot, it was excruciating. Maria had never been so clueless, the only woman whom she had grown to respect in the whole of the universe now presented her, but she was in love with his son. Pathetic. It made no sense, her life wasn't a movie.

It made no sense