Scarlett’s POV
I didn’t speak for the rest of the night.
The silence settled between us—thick enough to taste. When I finally slipped into bed, I didn’t reach for Jasper’s hand. I barely heard his side of the room creak before the lights clicked out.
But sleep wouldn’t come.
Instead, I lay there, tracing the shadows on the ceiling, thinking: this isn’t just jealousy. It’s regret for letting myself believe we were past secrets.
And deep down, it’s fear, fear that the past isn’t finished with us yet.
Daylight came slowly.
I awoke stiff, as if my heart had been bruised. The first thought that hit me: Monica is still here. Jasper’s casual approval still tastes like betrayal.
I rose, dressed carefully. Something simple but refined, a charcoal blouse and slim black trousers. No jewelry.
