Chapter 51 The Box?
Jasmine sat at Darcy’s kitchen island, her chin resting in the palm of her hand as she watched Darcy glide back and forth across the wide marble space. The woman moved with effortless grace, sleeves rolled up, hips swaying gently as she mixed dough and slid trays into the oven like it was second nature.
The kitchen smelled like butter, vanilla, and sugar—comforting and warm—but Jasmine felt none of that comfort settle inside her.
Her mind was too loud.
She poked weakly at a lump of cookie dough with her finger, smearing it across the counter before licking it off absentmindedly. She hadn’t had the energy to help Darcy bake this time.
Her sleep schedule was wrecked. Her anxiety was worse than it had been in weeks. The nightmares had returned with claws, waking her in cold sweats and shaking breaths, and once she was awake, she couldn’t make herself sleep again.
So she had stayed here.
Two nights in a row now.
And she had avoided Damien like he carried the plague.
The thought of him left a bitter taste in her mouth. He had returned three days after Ray kissed her.
Ray’s kiss.
Jasmine swallowed, her chest tightening.
She hadn’t gone back to the penthouse. She hadn’t answered Damien’s calls. And Darcy, in her quiet wisdom, hadn’t asked questions. She had simply let Jasmine curl up in her guest room, offering tea and cookies and gentle company.
But Darcy was not blind.
She turned from the counter, wiping her hands on a towel, studying Jasmine carefully. “You’re awfully quiet today, darling.”
Jasmine shrugged weakly. “Just tired.”
Darcy raised an eyebrow but didn’t push. Instead, she asked gently, “Have you seen Damien since he came back?”
The name hit Jasmine like a stone dropped into water.
She stiffened.
“No,” she said softly, her voice small. “Not yet.”
Darcy hummed thoughtfully, watching her reaction closely. “I see.”
There was a pause. The oven timer beeped. Darcy moved to check the cookies, then glanced back at Jasmine. “Did you ever open the box?”
Jasmine blinked. “The box?”
Darcy smiled knowingly. “The one that appeared outside your door like a mystery.”
Jasmine straightened suddenly. The box. She had forgotten about it entirely. Between Ray, Damien, her fear, and her exhaustion, it had slipped to the back of her mind.
“I… no,” Jasmine admitted. “I forgot.”
Darcy clapped her hands once. “Well, that won’t do. Go get it.”
Jasmine slid off the stool and padded down the hallway to the room she had been staying in. She knelt beside the bed and pulled the white box from underneath.
The gold ribbon was still perfectly tied, untouched.
Her heart fluttered nervously.
She carried it back into the kitchen and placed it on the island between them.
Darcy leaned closer, eyes sparkling. “Open it.”
Jasmine hesitated. “You open it.”
Darcy shook her head quickly. “Oh no. You open it. If it explodes, I’ll have time to run.”
Jasmine gasped and laughed despite herself. “Darcy!”
Darcy grinned mischievously. “I’m serious.”
Jasmine rolled her eyes, fingers trembling slightly as she reached for the ribbon. She tugged it loose. The gold fabric slid off and pooled onto the marble counter.
Slowly, she lifted the lid.
Her breath caught.
Inside lay the dress.
The very dress she had admired in the mall on their girls’ day out. The one she had walked away from because it was too extravagant, too beautiful, too unreal for her life.
A deep maroon gown shimmered under the kitchen lights.
Jasmine gasped. “Oh my God…”
She lifted it out carefully, the fabric cool and heavy in her hands. It sparkled subtly, threaded with tiny crystals that caught the light like stars trapped in wine-colored silk.
She ran her fingers over it reverently.
“Darcy… did you buy this?”
Darcy’s smile widened. She shook her head slowly. “No, dear.”
Jasmine’s heart skipped.
If not Darcy…
Her mind raced.
Ray?
Or Damien?
Her stomach twisted painfully.
What if it was Ray? What if Darcy believed it was Damien? What if Damien saw it and assumed it was from him?
Panic rose like a wave.
Her hands tightened on the fabric. “I… I should put it back.”
Darcy reached out and stopped her. “Absolutely not. Go try it on.”
“What?” Jasmine whispered. “Darcy—”
“You are trying it on,” Darcy insisted. “It’s clearly a gesture. And you will not disrespect it by hiding it in a box.”
Jasmine swallowed. “But what if—”
Darcy gave her a look. “If it’s from Damien, then you should show appreciation, you deserve to feel beautiful.”
Jasmine’s palms grew sweaty.
“What if Damien sees it and he doesn't like it on me?” she whispered.
Darcy tilted her head. “Then he’s a fool and I know I didn't birth a fool. Come on.”
She didn’t allow another protest. Darcy grabbed Jasmine’s wrist gently but firmly and tugged her toward the bedroom. “Cookies are in the oven. We have time.”
Jasmine sighed in defeat.
~
In Darcy’s bedroom, Jasmine stood frozen as Darcy handed her the gown.
“Bathroom,” Darcy pointed. “Now.”
Jasmine obeyed.
She slipped into the bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror as she undressed slowly, nerves dancing in her stomach. With trembling hands, she stepped into the dress and pulled it up her body.
It fit her like it had been made for her.
The fabric hugged her waist and flared gently over her hips. The bodice was structured and elegant, cinching her figure and lifting her posture. Long sleeves flowed down her arms, sheer and glittering faintly under the light.
The neckline was off-shoulder, framing her collarbones and shoulders beautifully. A high slit ran up one thigh, revealing smooth skin with every small movement.
The maroon color made her skin glow.
Jasmine stared at herself, stunned.
She stepped out of the bathroom.
Darcy gasped. “Jasmine…”
Jasmine turned slowly. “Is it… too much?”
“Too much?” Darcy laughed softly. “You look like royalty.”
Darcy pulled her in front of the mirror. “Look at you.”