Chapter 5. An Explanation Won’t Change Anything!

That night, Jasmine couldn’t sleep. She turned restlessly on her bed, trying to find a comfortable position, hoping that sleep would finally claim her—but it didn’t. Her thoughts kept returning to Xavier.

His presence haunted her, invading her mind in the most disturbing way. Tomorrow she had an important morning meeting at the office, and she couldn’t afford to be in bad shape. Usually, sleep was her saving grace, her cure-all. But tonight, no matter how hard she tried, it remained out of reach. And the thought ran through her mind again and again:

If she gave Xavier the chance to speak, would he finally leave her alone?

He had left her without a word four years ago. No explanations, no closure. Jasmine had grown tired of circling around the unanswered questions. But now, Xavier had barged back into her life in the worst possible way—reawakening all those questions and stirring a violent storm inside her heart.

She sat up, releasing a long, heavy breath as her hand rose to her temple. The silver wash of moonlight seeped through the open gap in her curtains, spilling across her small frame seated on the bed.

Perhaps Xavier wanted to explain what had happened four years ago. Perhaps he meant to put to rest what hadn’t been resolved between them. Maybe that was why he seemed so desperate to talk. And with his engagement to Jelena looming, of course he wouldn’t want ghosts from the past haunting the future.

Should she agree to listen to him?

The thought tightened in her chest. Deep inside, though, Jasmine knew the truth—the reason she kept avoiding him wasn’t resentment. It was fear. Fear of the truth. Fear that her fragile heart, already shattered once, would crumble into pieces that could never be put back together. It was easier to pretend nothing had ever happened. Easier to tell herself that what happened back then was her own mistake. Easier to deny Xavier’s place in her story altogether.

With that decision, her breathing steadied. Her throat felt dry, so she reached for the glass of water she usually kept at her bedside. But it was empty. She had forgotten she’d already drained it after waking several times earlier.

Slipping out of bed, she carried her empty glass into the hall, intending to fetch water—and maybe even heat some milk. People always said warm milk could help induce sleep.

Her footsteps echoed lightly across the silent hallway. But suddenly, she froze. Her breath halted, her body stiffening.

Because there—emerging from Jelena’s room—was Xavier.

He looked just as startled as she did. They both stood still, staring at one another in the hushed corridor. Jasmine’s eyes lingered too long, unwilling to release the sight of him. His white shirt was partly unbuttoned, his face fresh, as if he had just showered. She caught a clean, familiar fragrance—the same scent Jelena wore.

And then she saw it. The faint red mark at his collarbone, just above where his shirt opened.

Her stomach turned. She didn’t need to ask. She knew exactly what that mark meant.

Forcing herself to look away, Jasmine pivoted to leave him behind. But Xavier caught her path, stepping in front of her.

“Jasmine, why aren’t you asleep yet?” His voice held concern.

“Whether I sleep or not isn’t your business, Mr. Coldwell.” Her tone was ice. She brushed past him, hurrying down the stairs. Relief burned in her chest when he didn’t stop her—until she realized he was following.

Her steps grew faster, but in her rush she stumbled on something near the floor.

“Ah!” she gasped, bracing for the impact of her fall down the steps.

But it never came. Strong arms caught her, pulling her back firmly against a solid chest before she hit the floor.

Her heart pounded wildly, breath short with shock. If not for Xavier’s catch, she could have cracked her head, broken a bone—or worse.

“Are you alright?” His deep baritone was filled with worry.

Jasmine instantly tore herself free from his embrace. “Thank you,” she muttered curtly, refusing to look at him. She stormed down into the kitchen like nothing had happened. No matter what, she refused to owe him anything.

The house was cloaked in silence, its main lights turned off for the night. Only small, warm glows lit the hallways. The kitchen, too, was deserted; the staff had long since gone to bed. The clock’s hands had brushed past three. Nearly morning.

Setting her glass on the counter, Jasmine leaned against the table, steadying her nerves. But then came his voice again, cutting through the silence:

“Jasmine.”

She flinched, spinning around—and there he was.

“Mr. Coldwell, what are—”

“Stop calling me that, Jasmine,” Xavier interrupted, his eyes heavy with frustration, tinged with concern.

Her throat tightened. This was the man who had shattered her, the man who left her broken four years ago. What right did he have to speak her name like this, to still steal her breath as though nothing had changed? Yet damn her—her heart still stuttered at his presence.

“That’s your name, isn’t it?” she shot back coldly. “Do you not like being called by your own name?”

His lips curved into a faint smile. “No matter how hard you try, you’ll never make me a stranger, Jasmine.”

Her chest constricted, raw emotions rising like a tide. “What do you mean?” she asked, almost against her will.

Xavier stepped closer, stopping just before her. The intoxicating scent clung to him, burning into her senses. She forced herself to remember—he belonged to Jelena. Not her.

“There are things left unfinished between us, Jasmine. From four years ago,” he said, his tone sharp, commanding.

Her lips trembled before hardening. Her answer was ice. “No. You ended it when you left. That was the end. It’s over.”

“I have an explanation,” Xavier said firmly.

“I don’t care.”

“Jasmine—”

“No, Xavier!” Her voice cracked, but anger surged to bury the quake inside her. She glared, steel in her voice. “An explanation won’t change anything! It won’t put my broken heart back together. It won’t erase the four years I suffered alone. And it damn sure won’t change the fact that you’re with my sister now!”

Xavier’s chest rose sharply. His lips parted, but no words came. Nothing could. Her words had struck deep, leaving him silenced. All he managed was a whispered apology—one Jasmine ignored as she turned and walked away, hot tears finally breaking free down her cheeks.

She had tried to be strong. But when it came to Xavier, her heart betrayed her every time.