No Present, No Apology, Just Divorce

Jasmine didn't return home that night.

It was the following day when I saw the headlines spread across Harborough. "Husband Loses Out Again: Heiress Takes Her Adopted Brother to Party Across Town for Her Birthday."

I noticed that Jasmine was nestled in Patrick Gunner's, her adopted brother's, arms in the paparazzi shots, while everyone around them laughed with familiar, unrestrained intimacy. I changed the channel, my face devoid of expression.

Jasmine, perhaps not yet completely satisfied with her night out, returned home amidst much noise and clamor, bringing a whole entourage with her.

Upon spotting me, one of Jasmine's friends paused briefly before falling into their usual glib manner. "You're here as well, huh, Henry? I'm sorry, but we'll have to trouble you to whip up some food for us."

It was then that someone chimed in, "I'd love to have your minestrone for dinner, Henry, so please make a little extra!"

They said all the right things about it being a lot of work, but when it came down to it, they didn't hesitate to boss me around.

I looked up at them, thinking that the slighting treatment I received from Jasmine's friends was nothing new; it had been going on for years.

That minestrone they mentioned had been something I made for Jasmine, thinking she might need it because she was always out drinking and eating poorly. Jasmine, however, never once drank it—her friends ended up finishing it all.

They talked with their mouths full, saying, "I hope you don't take this personally, Henry; Jasmine didn't want any, so she told us we could have it."

I could only smile to mask my embarrassment, replying that I was just glad they liked it.

I used to try so hard to fit in with Jasmine's family and social circles just to please her, hoping that one day I'd finally win them over, but I no longer cared about that anymore. I merely stood up and said, "You can make it yourselves or get the maid to prepare it if you're hungry. I'm not running a catering service for you."

I wasn't even interested enough to stay and see how they reacted.

It was then that the sound of breaking ceramic shattered the silence, prompting me to instinctively turn around.

Patrick stepped back from the shattered pieces on the floor. "I'm so sorry, Henry. I didn't do it on purpose; I just thought it was beautiful, but it slipped right out of my hands."

I hadn't even had the chance to say anything when Jasmine's friends suddenly broke into a loud argument.

"Patrick didn't do it on purpose, so there is no need to keep looking so displeased, Henry."

"Do you really have to pick a fight with someone younger than you over something this minor, Henry? You're being incredibly petty about this!"

Jasmine took Patrick's hand, checking it over carefully to make sure he wasn't hurt before she finally looked up at me. She then stated coldly, "You don't need to look at him with that usual hostility, Henry. He already apologized to you. You—"

I tilted my head and asked, "Did I say I wouldn't forgive him? Why make it sound like I'm bullying him? It's just like you guys had said—it was just a minor matter. You can just have someone sweep up the shards and throw them out."

That ceramic vase had been one of the few gifts Jasmine had ever given me. It was a one-of-a-kind piece by a master craftsman that I had always admired and Jasmine had spent a long time searching for it through various contacts.

She acted completely nonchalant on the day she handed it to me, saying, "Here—take it and stop bringing it up every day."

I was completely overjoyed, even though she looked completely indifferent. I pulled her into a hug and gently kissed the top of her head, her forehead, and her cheek. "Thank you so much, Jasmine! I love it!"

Jasmine didn't dodge or push me away; she just let out a brief laugh. She was always doing that—throwing me a glimmer of hope right when I was on the verge of giving up. She made me believe that maybe she did have feelings for me, as long as I held on a bit longer.

I used to cherish that ceramic vase. I cleaned it myself every day and kept it where it could be seen at a glance. "It's probably a good thing that it broke; I don't really like it anymore."

Jasmine looked at me, her brow furrowing deeply. She nodded, then suddenly reached out and smashed the matching ceramic vase onto the floor as well.

Patrick yelped in surprise while Jasmine stated flatly, "It works out perfectly if you don't like it anymore—let's dispose of it together."