Chapter 03

Yet, how could someone like me, plagued with paranoia and severe depression, let them have their way?

I knocked on the door and said to Simon, "Come out."

He didn't move.

I walked in, picked up a water glass from the side, and smashed it against the wall behind him.

Finally, Simon looked at me, and I pointed at Rose on the bed and questioned him, "Before she went abroad, you had already proposed to me. Do you care at all? Didn't you promise that as long as the Tucker family facilitated the Wallace family's collaboration with Jason abroad through Tucker Group, you would break up with her?"

"If you've broken up, then how come you two have a child now? If you don't explain it today, I will kill her."

Simon was silent for a long time, finally looking up and saying, "That night before she left the country, we drank too much. However, I never expected you to be so cruel, not even sparing the child."

So he indulged himself and cheated on me. Even his look at me was repulsive.

Suddenly, I felt a shiver down my spine, as if my chest was tightly grasped.

...

The seventeen-year-old Simon liked to draw, often carrying his sketchbook around campus.

I flipped through his sketchbook and noticed that he finished every drawing with a rose.

"Jasmine! Don't touch my stuff randomly." Simon hurried over and closed the sketchbook.

I was speechless. "Why? Can't I even look?"

"There's nothing to see. Let's go. Didn't you say you wanted to go to the amusement park?" he urged me.

I didn't move. I smiled at him and said, "Why not stop drawing roses? Draw a jasmine instead."

Simon didn't respond, his gaze shifting behind me.

I turned around and saw Rose standing there expressionlessly, her wet hair still dripping water.

Suddenly realizing something, I frowned and asked Simon, "Do you like her?"

Simon liked Rose.

That day, he didn't respond and took me to the amusement park instead.

But from then on, I started paying attention to him.

He would often be distracted, his gazes averting whenever Rose passed by us, swallowing nervously, and subconsciously maintaining a distance from me.

But Rose's eyes never lingered on him.

I thought it was a one-sided affection from Simon until one day, Rose was bullied.

The bulliers were good friends of mine.

Rose was soaking wet, her undershirt barely visible, yet her face remained defiant.

Although I didn't like her, I despised bullying even more.

My group of friends saw me, pulled me over, and said with a laugh, "Jasmine, you came just in time. I've handled her for you. Let's see if she dares to antagonize you now."

Simon pushed through the crowd and heard them.

His eyes bloodshot, he looked at me accusingly, "Why would you do this? Isn't my being with you enough?"

I was baffled.

He was with me because of her?

Stunned, I watched as Simon took off his jacket and wrapped Rose tightly in it.

Rose turned to look at me, her innocent face pale, yet still provocative.

Afterwards, I warned those girls, and when I got home, I smashed many things.

Simon didn't come to my house that day.

I knew he did it out of spite, an act of protest and warning.

My father, with the same indifferent eyes as Rose, looked at me, blaming me too.

It was only when Rose fell ill that I saw Simon again.

He handed me an expensive gift, awkwardly saying, "I'm sorry, Jasmine."

Proud yet secretly delighted, I took the gift and went to my room to unwrap it.

It was a jasmine-shaped music box.

When I came out, I saw him standing at Rose's door, but in the end, he turned and walked away.