i(/iiJasper’s /iiPOV/ii) /i

“Your anxiety levels are still elevated,” Dr. Morrison says, handing Virginia a printed report. “But the good news is we’ve caught it early. These new medications should help regte the panic attacks.”

I nod, not really listening. My mind keeps reying the look on Scarlett’s face when she saw me at the hospital. Pure disgust. Like I was something dirty she’d stepped ion/i.

“Mr. ke?” The doctor’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “I need you to imake /isure Virginia takes these twice a day. Missing doses can trigger episodes.”

“Right. Twice a day.” I take the prescription bottle, shoving it into my jacket pocket.

Virginia slides her arm through mine as we walk to the parking garage. Her touch feels wrong. Heavy. Like a chain I’ve been wearing too long to befortable anymore.

“Thank you for staying with me today,” she says softly. “I know seeing Scarlett was hard for you.”

Hard doesn’t begin to cover it. Watching my wife–because she IS still my wife–leave with another man felt like being gutted with a rusty knife.

“It’s fine.”

“Is it?” Virginia stops walking, forcing me to look at her. “Because you’ve barely said a word since we left the ER.”

Because I can’t stop thinking about the way Dorian touched Scarlett’s wheelchair. Protective. Gentle. The way I should have been touching her for three years.

“I’m tired, that’s all.”

Virginia’s blue eyes fill with tears. “I’m so sorry, Jasper. This is all my fault. If I hadn’t had the panic attack that day-”

“Don’t.” There’s nothing to mention about that day.

She was sick. She needed help. I don’t know why Scarlett couldn’t understand such a simple issue.

She mes me for abandoning her on the road. But did I ask her to get off the car? Wasn’t it her order to stop?

Chapter 40

More Rewards

I tried to get her to get back in the car. Virginia was in a critical situation. I couldn’t waste time appeasing her, sucking up to her while someone else was dying ion /ithe other side of

town.

We drive to the Stones‘ house in silence. Virginia keeps ncing at me, probably waiting for me tofort her, to tell her everything’s okay like I always do. But I can’t. Not right now.

“Are youing in?” she asks when I pull into the driveway. “Mom’s making her famousmb

stew.”

The same stew Scarlett used to make for me when I had rough days at the office. She’d learned the recipe from ir, spent hours perfecting it because she knew it was my favorite.

“Not tonight.”

Virginia flinches like I pped her, and for a split second, I feel guilty. But then I remember the way Dorian’s hand rested on Scarlett’s shoulder, possessive and sure, and the guilt disappears.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” I lie, already pulling away.

The house is dark when I get home. iOur /ihouse. The one Scarlett picked out because she loved the big windows in the kitchen and the way the afternoon light hit the living room. The one where we were supposed to build a life together.

I stand in the doorway for a moment, key in hand. The silence, the quiet emptiness–it’s the hollow echo of abandonment. Every corner of the house holds memories, ones I’ve been holding ionto /ifor thest four years.

At the sight of ithe /icoffee cup, her coffee cup, still sitting on the kitchen counter, the memoriese flooding back.

“Can we try for a babyi?/ii” /iishe’d /iiasked /iione /iinight/ii, /iiher /ihead ion /iimy /ichest, ifingers /itracing patterns on my skin.

The question caught me off guard. iWe’d /iibeen /iimarried /itwo iyears/ii, /iiand /ishe looked so hopeful, so beautiful in the moonlight.

i“/iiWe’re /inot ready for that ikind /iiof /iresponsibilityi,/ii” /iiI’d /iisaid/i. “iMy /ibusiness iis /iijust /iigetting /istarted, iand /iiVirginia /ineeds help isettling /iinto iher /iinew /ijob-”

iThe /iilight /iidied /iiin /iher eyes. i“/iiVirginia/ii./ii” /i

i“/iiBe /iireasonable/ii, /iiScarlett/ii. /iiBabies /iare iexpensive/i, iand /iiwith /iieverything /iigoing /iion- /i

iShe’d /iipulled /iiaway /iifrom /iime /iithen/i, iwrapping /iiherself /iiin /iithe /iisheet /iilike /iiarmor/i.

Chapter 40

More Rewards

i“/iiWhen /iido /iiI /iget toe ifirst/i, iJasper/ii? /iiWhen /iido /iiI /imatter imore /ithan iyour /iifriendship /iiwith /iiher/ii?/i”

iI /iicouldn’t /iianswer/ii. /iBecause ithe /iitruth /iwas, iI /iididn’t /iiknow /iihow /iito /iiput /iiScarlett /ifirst iwhen /iiVirginia /iseemed ito /iineed /ime imore/i. fn3558 Read full story at Find_Novel(./fn3558

Six monthster, she was pregnant anyway. And instead of being happy–instead of celebrating–I felt trapped.

What kind of man feels trapped when his wife tells him she’s carrying his child?

My chest tightens. The baby. Our baby.

I shrug out of my coat and slump into the couch, burying my head in my hands.

Scarlett had everything–parents who adored her, friends like Chloe who’d drop everything for her, money, education, love. She was surrounded by people who cared about her.

Virginia had no one. Just me.

Why couldn’t Scarlett understand this?

Standing, I stumble to our bedroom–my bedroom now–and copse on the bed. Scarlett’s pillow still smells faintly like her shampoo. Something floral and sweet that used to drive me

crazy.

I press my face into it and remember.

The ifront /iiporch /iilight /iiwas /iialways on /iiwhen /iiI /iicame home /iite/ii. /iiAlways/i. iEven /iiwhen /iiI /iwas ithree /ihours iter /iithan /iiI’d /iipromised/ii, /iieven /iiwhen /iiI’d /iicancelled /iiour /iidinner /iins /ifor the ithird /itime ithat /i

week.

She’d be in the ikitchen/ii, /iiusually /iireading /ia ibook /iiat /iithe /iicounter/ii, /iia /ite of food iwarming /iiin /ithe

oven.

i“/iHow was your day?” she’d aski, /iilike /ishe igenuinely /iwanted to know. Like imy /iproblems mattered

to her.

“Long. Frustrating.i” /iiI’d /ikiss her foreheadi, /ibreathe iin /ithat sweet scent. “Sorry I’mte.”

“It’s okay. Are you hungryi?/i”

Always the same question. Always asked iwith /iia /iismile/i, even iwhen /iI could see ithe /idisappointment iin /iher eyes.

iShe’d /iheat iup /iwhatever she’d made–usually somethingplicated because she iwas /iistill /iilearning /iito /icooki, /istill itrying /iito /iimpress me. Still itrying /ito be ithe /iperfect wife.

Chapter 40

iAnd /iiI’d /iieat /iiit/ii, /iitell /iher iit /iiwas /iidelicious/ii, /iithen /ifall iasleep /iion /iithe /iicouch /iiwatching /iiTV. /i

More Rewards b /b

iNever /iiasked /iiabout /iiher /iiday/ii. /iiNever /iiwondered /iiif /iishe /iwas ilonely/ii, /iieating /iidinner /iialone /iiagain/ii. /iiNever /iithought /iiabout /iihow /iiit /iifelt /ito ibe /iimarried /iito /ia iman /iiwho /iitreated /iiher /iilike /iia /iiroommate /iiinstead /iiof /iithe /iilove /iof ihis /iilife/ii. /i

I close my eyes and try to remember thest time Scarlett waited up for me. Thest time she asked about my day with genuine interest instead of polite obligation.

Thest time she smiled when I walked through the door instead of looking disappointed.

But I can’t remember. Because somewhere along the way, I stopped being the man she fell in

love with.

For four years, I’ve been telling myself that Scarlett left because she was jealous, immature, unable to understand my loyalty to an old friend. I convinced myself that if she really loved me, she would have stayed and fought for our marriage.

Nowying here in this empty room, surrounded by the ghost of what we used to have, I realize I haven’t been a good husband after all.

Because Virginia had no one but me, I gave priority to her matters instead of my wife’s.

I thought Scarlett would understand. I thought she was strong enough, loved enough by everyone around her, that she wouldn’t need me the way Virginia did.

But I was wrong. Sopletely, wrong.

I took Scarlett for granted, and now…

She has a life without me. A man who looks at her the way I should have from the beginning.

The front door ms downstairs.

Hard.

Violet Moon

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