"If she dies, Jasmine, you're going into the ground with her!"
Was I clinging to him?
He was the one who, drunk on his birthday, dragged me out for a drive.
Was I arguing with him?
It was his mother calling again, berating me for being unworthy, demanding he break up with me.
But the truth was pale and powerless against Sarah's shattered leg.
From that day on, Simon placed the cross of guilt squarely on my shoulders.
And Sarah became the saint he had to devote his life to repaying.
"Madam, Ms. Henson is here. She's waiting for you in the living room." Jessica's voice pulled me from my thoughts.
I walked downstairs to find Sarah sitting in her wheelchair, a beautifully wrapped box in her lap.
"Jasmine." Seeing me, she flashed a sugary smile. "Yesterday was my fault."
"I made these cookies myself. Will you try them?"
I looked at her coldly.
"What do you want?"
Her smile faltered for a second before she recovered.
"My brother went to the neighboring city for a meeting. He won't be back until this evening."
"He was afraid you'd be bored, so he asked me to keep you company."