The First Cracks
Rita sat on the couch, legs crossed, arms folded, staring at Luke like he was a stain on her designer bag.
"I don't get it," she said, turning to Jasmine. "Why are you still here?"
Belle shifted uncomfortably, clearly wanting to disappear. Luke, on the other hand, looked ready to snap.
"I told you," Jasmine said smoothly, pouring herself another glass of wine. "I'm here because I want to be."
Rita rolled her eyes. "No, you're here because you want him to suffer."
Jasmine sipped her wine, letting the silence confirm the obvious.
Luke exhaled sharply. "Jasmine, this isn't healthy."
She set her glass down with a slow, deliberate movement. "You should've thought about my health before you betrayed me."
Rita snorted. "You tell him, sis."
Belle looked between them, her expression unreadable.
Rita turned back to Luke, her tone mockingly sweet. "So, tell me, Luke, how does it feel to wake up every day and see the woman you threw away standing right in front of you?"
Luke's jaw clenched.
Jasmine just smiled.
Rita leaned back, smug. "Yeah, that's what I thought."
---
The Moment Jasmine Stops Pretending
Later that night, after Rita left, Jasmine sat alone in the living room.
She should go to bed.
She should pretend everything was fine.
But something inside her cracked.
Luke walked in, rubbing his face, looking exhausted. "Jasmine, can we just talk?"
She let out a slow breath. "Talk about what?"
"About this. Us. What we're doing."
She let out a bitter laugh. "There is no us, Luke."
He flinched.
"You made your choice," she continued, voice calm but sharp. "You chose Belle. You chose her over me."
Luke's face twisted. "It wasn't like that."
"Then what was it like?"
He looked away. "I… I don't know."
Jasmine stared at him for a long moment. "That's the problem, isn't it? You don't know what you want."
Luke exhaled. "I just know that I don't want to fight anymore."
She smirked, leaning back against the couch. "Well, I do."
His hands clenched at his sides. "Jasmine—"
"You should go to bed, Luke," she interrupted, voice flat. "Belle might miss you."
The muscle in his jaw ticked.
But he didn't argue.
He just turned and walked away.
And Jasmine?
She sat there, sipping her wine, staring at the spot where he stood.
And for the first time, she truly felt nothing.
When the Distance Grows
Jasmine woke up to an empty bed.
It was nothing new.
Luke hadn't slept beside her in weeks.
She wasn't sure why it still bothered her. Maybe it was the principle of it—the fact that she had given him everything, and now he treated her like an afterthought.
No more.
She wasn't an afterthought.
She was the woman who saved his life.
Jasmine sighed, rolling out of bed. She didn't bother dressing up, just grabbed her robe and made her way downstairs.
Luke was in the kitchen, making coffee. Belle stood beside him, laughing softly at something he said.
Jasmine paused at the sight.
They looked like a real couple.
Like she was the outsider.
Her fingers tightened around the edge of her robe, but her face remained impassive as she stepped forward. "Morning."
Belle startled. Luke tensed.
Jasmine smirked. Good.
"Morning," Belle murmured, stepping back slightly.
Luke nodded stiffly. "Jasmine."
She walked past them, reaching for a mug. "I'm surprised you two aren't cuddling on the couch yet."
Belle's face flushed. "I—I was just asking Luke about the—"
Jasmine held up a hand. "Spare me."
Luke set his coffee down, frustration clear in his eyes. "Jasmine, can we not do this?"
She turned to him slowly. "Do what?"
"This." He gestured vaguely. "The passive-aggressive comments. The games."
She let out a soft laugh. "Games?"
Belle swallowed. "I—I think I'll just—"
"No, Belle, stay," Jasmine interrupted, eyes still on Luke. "I want her to hear this."
Luke exhaled, rubbing his temple. "I just want things to be civil."
Jasmine tilted her head. "Civil?"
"Yeah."
She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "You think you deserve civility?"
Luke's jaw tightened. "Jasmine—"
She smiled. "Drink your coffee, love. You'll need the energy for all the guilt you carry."
Then, with a casual grace, she turned and walked out.
Belle exhaled shakily.
Luke just stared after Jasmine, his grip on his mug tight enough to break it.
---
Rita's Not-So-Subtle Advice
Later that day, Jasmine sat at a café, stirring her tea absentmindedly.
Rita sat across from her, tapping her nails on the table.
"So."
Jasmine sighed. "So?"
Rita arched a brow. "How long are you gonna keep living in that hellhole?"
Jasmine smirked. "I don't know. How long do you think it'll take before Luke completely falls apart?"
Rita groaned. "Jasmine, I love you, but this isn't healthy."
Jasmine sipped her tea. "I'm fine."
"No, you're not." Rita leaned forward. "I know you, Jas. And I know you're hurting."
Jasmine didn't flinch.
Didn't let anything show.
She simply set her cup down and smiled. "I'm fine."
Rita exhaled. "You're impossible."
Jasmine just shrugged.
Because what was she supposed to say?
That Rita was right?
That she was crumbling inside?
No.
She wasn't ready to admit that.
Not yet.
---
Luke's Silent Regret
That night, Jasmine sat on the balcony, staring at the city lights.
She heard footsteps behind her.
Luke.
She didn't turn.
"I, uh…" His voice was hesitant. "I wanted to say I'm sorry."
Jasmine let out a quiet laugh. "For what?"
There was a pause. "For everything."
She finally turned to look at him. "Luke."
He swallowed. "Yeah?"
She smiled—soft, almost sad.
"I don't believe you."
Luke flinched.
Jasmine stood, brushing past him.
And for the first time, he was the one left standing alone.