“She insisted it be made by you,” he interrupted, his tone sharp. “Please hurry up.”
And with that, he turned and left.
I stared at the door for a moment, then at the box in my hands.
I had no choice. So, I headed for the kitchen.
Once I stepped into the kitchen, Jasmine strolled in right behind me, her arms folded and a sneer playing on her lips.
“At this point, Mia, I swear you should be nominated for an award. I mean, you deserve to be a paid actress,” she said with a mocking scoff.
“What do you mean, Jasmine?” I asked, my voice low, but the anger rising fast in my chest.
“Oh, please. Don’t act dumb,” she said with a dry laugh. “You don’t see how I bully you, how I mock you, and yet you stay calm like some saint. It’s pathetic.”
My fists clenched.
“I think you should leave the kitchen, Jasmine.”
“Ooh! That reminds me,” she added with exaggerated surprise, pressing a finger to her lips like she had just remembered a juicy secret. “I never needed that liver transplant from you. I was never sick. I just wanted to see how far your stupidity would go.”
She broke into a hard, wicked laugh that bounced off the tiled walls.
My heart twisted.