“I can get in by myself,” I said. “It’s not that serious.”
Jasper didn’t say anything. He helped me into the seat anyway before closing the door and sliding into the driver’s side.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
Rowan never asked me that. Every time we went out, Rowan decided where we were going without even asking me.
“L., need to go to Park Avenue,” I said quietly.
He raised an eyebrow, but he said nothing. I wondered if he recognized Rowan’s address – but if he did, he didn’t press.
Instead, he reached to the side and pulled out a folder.
“You asked for this,” he said, handing it to me. “Standard divorce papers. The names are blank.”
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I stared at the file in my lap, unsure how to respond. Jasper’s focus remained on the road, his expression unreadable.
“Thank you,” I murmured.
How was I supposed to explain this? That the man I fell in love with had chosen someone else – not just someone else, but his first love – over me, his wife. That Flora had ruined our trip, and Rowan had let her. That I had been foolish enough to
believe he would ever be mine…
“If only we’d found you earlier,” Jasper suddenly said under his breath. “We could have protected you.”
I heard the anger in his voice. He blamed himself for something he couldn’t have known.
“This is your car?” I asked, trying to steer the conversation away from dangerous territory.
Jasper hesitated. “No. It’s a friend’s,” he said, shifting in his seat. “He’s out of town, so he let me use it“.
“Must be a good friend.”
Jasper let out a short laugh. “Yeah. He is.” He said as he turned to the other side and ran his hand through his hair as if
something was bothering him.
I didn’t ask anymore. I had never seen Jasper, my brother, in years, and now here we were, driving together as if we hadn’t
lost time. It was strange. Strange… but warm.
After passing an intersection, we pulled up to Rowan’s building.
“Just drop me off here,” I said.
Jasper cut the engine but didn’t move. “Janet.” His voice was low, steady. “If something’s wrong… if he hurt you… you can tell
me.”
I glanced at him, surprised by the quiet strength in his tone.
“I’m fine, Jasper,” I said. “I just need to pick up a few things.”
Jasper’s gaze lingered on me for a long moment. Then he smiled faintly. “No one ever told you you’re a terrible liar?”
I blinked – then smiled back.
I got down from the car as I walked to the street. I got to Rowan’s penthouse as fast as I thought, though the pains in my ankle seem to be reduced. I don’t feel hurt like I was in the hospital, maybe it wasn’t my ankle, maybe it was just my heart that I feel it’s pierced already that is causing pain for me
The penthouse was quiet when I stepped inside.
Everything looked the same. The sleek marble floors, the glass shelves, the faint scent of Rowan’s cologne lingering in the
air. But it felt different.
I walked upstairs, heading straight to the bedroom. I grabbed my suitcase and started shoving my clothes inside, not bothering to fold them. Just needing to get out.
My hand brushed against something cold.
The necklace Rowan gave me on our first anniversary.
that
My heart skipped. The memory hit before I could stop it the soft glow of candlelight, the scent of his favorite dishes filling the room. The way his lips curved into a rare smile when he kissed me that night. It was the first time he had smiled at me since our wedding.
I set the necklace down carefully, as if touching it too long might reopen an old wound.
My gaze drifted toward the framed photograph beside it. His grandmother had insisted we take that picture after the wedding.
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In the photo, I smiled sweetly. Rowan’s arm was wrapped around my waist, his hand resting at my hip. His smile was faint,
restrained – but it was there.
How nice it would have been if that moment could have lasted forever.
I laughed under my breath. Forget it.
He was probably thinking about her even then. About Flora.
I placed the photo back where it belonged, closed my suitcase, put the divorce paper on the table, and turned toward the door.
The sound of the front door opening made me freeze.
My heart seized. Rowan?
I stepped out onto the landing – but it wasn’t Rowan.
It was the last person I wanted to see.
Mrs. Caroline. Rowan’s mother. She stood at the bottom of the stairs, her sharp eyes cutting through me like a blade. Her gaze swept from my tousled hair to the suitcase at my side, and disgust twisted her perfectly painted mouth.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat. “I’m heading out,” I said, my voice steady.
She took a step closer. “And where exactly do you think you’re heading to? Don’t make me repeat myself.”
The old me–the Janet from three years ago–would have flinched at that voice. But today, I felt nothing. Maybe because
Jasper was waiting for me outside. Maybe because I was finally done being scared.
I lifted my chin, meeting her gaze without fear. “You can repeat yourself all you want, but where I’m going is none of your
business.”
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