Beneath the Leather

Chapter 11: Home at Last

The key rattled in the lock as Jazmine pushed the door open, the cool night air from outside spilling into the apartment. Her boots thudded against the floor as she kicked them off and dropped her purse onto the chair, chest tight, mind spinning from the bar.

And there he was.

Devon.

He was sprawled on the couch, one leg tucked under him, phone in hand, scrolling casually as if the world outside didn’t exist. He didn’t look up. He didn’t even flinch when she entered.

“Devon?” she asked softly, voice trembling. “Are you… ignoring me?”

Still nothing.

Her stomach sank. How can he just act like this? Her pulse raced. The city streets, the bar, the sight of him laughing with Liz—all of it pressed on her chest like a weight she couldn’t lift.

She stepped closer, trying to keep her voice steady. “Why… why are you like this? Why won’t you talk to me?”

Devon finally sighed, long and heavy, setting his phone down. His gaze stayed fixed on the screen for a moment longer before flicking briefly to her. “Liz said some things,” he muttered, voice low, reluctant.

Jazmine froze. “What… what did she say?” Her voice was soft, fragile, but edged with the anger and hurt she had been holding back all night.

He looked away, jaw tight. “She said… if you loved me, you’d at least try. Try to lose some weight.”

The words hit her like a punch to the gut. Her hands went to her face, pressing lightly as if she could block them out. “You… you’re serious?” she whispered, voice breaking. “She… she said that? And you… you actually listened?”

Devon shrugged, avoiding her eyes. “I… I don’t know. I just… I don’t feel the same anymore. You’ve changed, Jaz. You don’t… you don’t feel the same to me.”

Jazmine’s chest tightened so sharply it was hard to breathe. “So this is it?” she spat, hands trembling. “This is why you’ve been cold, distant, ignoring me… hiding from me… all because of my body?”

“Yes,” he said quietly, almost defensively. “And it’s not just that. I… I just… I don’t feel like I have my sexy girlfriend anymore. She… she made me see it.”

Her stomach sank. Tears stung her eyes. “Are you really saying this? After everything we’ve been through… you’re letting her words mean more than me?”

Devon shifted slightly, as if to reach for her, but she pulled back instinctively. “I’ve been trying to hold everything together, Devon! I’ve been trying to love you, support you… and you… you let her make you feel this way about me?”

The apartment felt suffocating. Jazmine’s chest heaved, her body trembling. She couldn’t imagine staying here another second without losing herself in the pain and anger swelling inside her.

Without a word, she turned and walked toward the bedroom, her boots dragging against the floor. Each step felt heavy, carrying the weight of betrayal, hurt, and confusion. The bedroom door clicked softly behind her, shutting out Devon—but not the ache in her heart.

Hercules, sensing her distress, trotted over and nuzzled against her leg. She sank to her knees, gathering him into her arms. His soft fur brushed against her tear-streaked face, a small comfort in a world that suddenly felt harsh and cold.

“I… I don’t know what to do, Hercules,” she whispered, burying her face in him. “I don’t… I don’t understand him… or her… or any of this.”

Outside the bedroom, Devon moved again. The scrape of a chair, the rustle of his jacket. Then—the sharp slam of the front door.

Jazmine’s heart clenched. He was gone. Just like that, leaving her and the apartment behind. The echo of the door reverberated through the empty rooms, mixing with the pounding in her chest.

She held Hercules tightly, letting the tears fall freely. “He… he left,” she whispered between sobs. “After everything… he just left me.”

Hours—or maybe minutes—passed in a blur. Jazmine clung to Hercules, finding small comfort in his quiet presence. The apartment was silent now, empty except for the two of them. She didn’t have answers, didn’t know what would come next—but for the first time that night, she allowed herself to fully feel the heartbreak, the betrayal, and the grief.

Her forehead rested against Hercules’ soft fur as the sobs slowly subsided. The apartment was quiet, the door closed, the world outside momentarily paused. She wasn’t ready to face Devon—or the truth—but for now, she let herself just be, held safe by the tiny, unwavering warmth of her little dog.