STEPHAN
"Wh…what did you just do?" I sputtered, staring up at her in utter disbelief.
She dusted her hands as she had just finished moving furniture, cheeks pink, eyes dancing. "Trying to make you eat. I can get punished later because you refused to do what I wanted."
Punished? By who? Me? The thought twisted something ugly and protective in my gut.
She leaned over the table, humming again, and started serving. Pancakes golden, fluffy, drizzled with something that smelled like peanut butter and maple. My stomach growled traitorously.
She paused mid-scoop, staring into space for two full seconds like she was listening to someone only she could hear. Then she smacked her own forehead lightly and grinned at me, small, sneaky, adorable.
"Hey… it slipped my mind. I forgot you are allergic to peanuts." She swapped the plate with practiced grace, sliding over a fresh stack of plain blueberry pancakes, crisp bacon, and scrambled eggs. No nuts in sight.
My fork hovered halfway to my mouth.
The entire room had gone dead silent. Elena stood in the doorway, mouth open. Two junior maids exchanged wide-eyed glances.
She rememberedAfter years of forgetting from watching me break out in hives because she "accidentally" ordered the wrong thing. She had finally remembered.
I swallowed hard with my eyes stung for reasons I refuse to name.
"Now eat," she ordered gently, sliding into the seat beside me. Close. Too close. Her knee brushed mine under the table.
I picked up the spoon and the pancakes smelled like heaven. But old, well-earned paranoia slammed back in.
She could be crazy. She was crazy. What if this were another game? Something to knock me out so Henry could waltz in and… I slammed the spoon down. The crack echoed like a gunshot.
She flinched, her eyes widening in surprise.
"I don't eat in the morning," I bit out, voice rough. "Get that into your memory."
I shoved the chair back, ready to storm out again, when footsteps pattered down the stairs.
Elena appeared, gently tugging a small figure behind her.
"Jaden."
My ten-year-old son, dark hair sticking up in every direction like he had lost a fight with his pillow, sleepy brown eyes narrowed in perpetual grumpiness.
Pajama top half-tucked, one sock missing. He looked exactly like me at that age, small but already carrying the weight of the world on his skinny shoulders.
"You haven't gone to school?" I asked, voice softening despite everything. I hadn't seen him since yesterday morning.
"Why do you care?" he fired back, voice cracking with that pre-teen mix of anger and hurt.
He tried to shrug past Elena toward the front door, shoulders hunched. Before I could answer, Jasmine moved.
She was out of her chair in a flash, rushing toward him with that same bright energy. "Who are you?" she asked, eyes wide with genuine curiosity, reaching out like she wanted to ruffle his hair.
Jaden recoiled as she had burned him. "Get the hell outta my way… You whore." The word hit like a slap.
I was already moving, fury rising hot and fast.."Jaden!" but Jasmine was faster.
She didn't yell instead simply brushed him—lightly, almost playfully off his feet.
One gentle sweep of her arm and my ten-year-old son landed on his butt on the thick Persian rug with a soft oof, more surprised than hurt.
"I am older than you," she said calmly, crouching so they were eye-level, voice steady but kind. "So the least you could do is give me some respect. Good riddance to the attitude, though."
Jaden stared up at her, mouth open, cheeks flaming red. For the first time in years, the kid looked… speechless. Like the world had tilted sideways and he didn't know which way was up.
I stood frozen three feet away, heart hammering so loud I was sure they could hear it.
Who was this woman?
She had lifted me like I was a child, remembered my allergy after forgetting it for years.
Chased me down with giggles instead of tears. And now she was handling our angry, hurting son with the calm confidence of someone who had never been broken.
Jaden scrambled up, brushing off his pajamas, shooting her a glare that was more confused than vicious. "You are weird," he muttered, but there was no real bite left.
Jasmine just smiled softly, the kind of smile that used to make my knees weak in high school.
"Yeah. Maybe I am. But weird moms still make good breakfast. Come eat with your dad?"
Jaden glanced at me as I also glanced at her.
And for the first time since the crash, the ache in my chest felt… lighter. I didn't know what game she was playing.
I didn't know why she was suddenly strong enough to carry grown men or kind enough to remember my allergies.
But as she held out her hand to Jaden palm up, no demand, just an offer I found myself sitting back down at the table.
"Fine," I muttered, picking up the spoon again. "One breakfast."
Jasmine's smile bloomed brighter than the morning sun streaming through the windows.
And damn if my traitor heart didn't smile back.