(Jasper's POV)
I watch her move around the kitchen like she belongs there with him. The same way she used to move around our kitchen, making me coffee before work, humming under her breath.
She never hums anymore when I'm around.
Her words, to settle our divorce before co-parenting, keep ringing in my ears. Does she really not love me anymore?
Is she willing to raise our daughter in a broken family, just to be with that guy?
The pancakes smell incredible. I want to try some. It’s been years since I had her cooking, and the craving leaves me staring, nearly glaring, at Dorian’s plate.
But now, Scarlett barely gives me attention, and I know better than to act on impulse.
She has a way of making everything better, warmer, just by existing in a space. I used to take that for granted.
