Two months had passed since Jasper found out. Two months since he walked into my apartment, his face pale and wet with tears, as I sat cross-legged on the floor surrounded by stuffed unicorns, wearing a glittery birthday hat — at twenty-two years old.
I should’ve been embarrassed. But I wasn’t. Because in those moments, I wasn’t Brittany Ashford, socialite and former model. I was just… Britty. Little Britty. That’s what they called me when I slipped into that place — that place in my mind where everything was pink, soft, and safe.
“Brit,” Jasper’s voice broke through the haze, pulling me back to the present. He was seated on the couch, elbows on his knees, his head hanging low.
“Hmm?” I murmured, turning slightly.
“I want you to think about getting help.” His voice cracked, as though the words scraped his throat raw. “You know I’m not trying to control you, right?” His blue eyes lifted to mine — eyes so much like mine, it hurt.
I gave him a soft, tired smile. “I know, Jas. You just want your Brit back.”
His hands clenched. “No, Brit. I want you to want you back.”
I looked away.
Over the past weeks, I had buried myself in helping Mom prepare for Jasper’s wedding. Janice was the golden girl now — stunning, polished, kind, adored by the public. She was everything I used to be.
Mom adored her. At dinners, she gushed about wedding details, flowers, the designer dress, the venue overlooking the ocean. And I sat there, smiling, nodding, pretending the knives in my chest didn’t twist deeper each time. Because underneath it all, Janice wasn’t what Jasper wanted. I knew.
When I had one of my child episodes, Jasper would stay by my side until I fell asleep. I’d hear him whispering into the dark, his words floating to me like confessions to a priest.
“I don’t love her,” he’d murmur, brushing a hand through my hair. “I wish I did, but I don’t. She’s not my soul. My soulmate is still out there.”
I never told him I was awake. I kept his secret the same way he kept mine.
---
A month later, at a family dinner, it all came crashing down.
We were gathered at the Ashford estate — long oak table gleaming under crystal chandeliers, silverware polished to perfection. Mother, in her emerald silk dress, was laughing as Janice recounted a story about the wedding planner, while Father nodded with quiet approval.
Jasper sat stiffly beside Janice, his jaw tight, fingers drumming an anxious rhythm against the table. I knew. I knew what was coming.
Finally, he set his wine glass down with a sharp clink. The room hushed.
“I can’t do this.” His voice was quiet, but it hit the room like a thunderclap.
Janice froze, laughter dying on her lips. “Jas?”
He exhaled, looking down. “I can’t marry you, Janice.”
Mother’s fork slipped from her fingers, clattering onto her plate. “Jasper, what—”
“I’m sorry,” Jasper continued, eyes glistening as they met Janice’s. “You deserve someone who is all in. Someone who doesn’t lie awake at night wondering if there’s someone else they’re meant to be with.”
Janice’s face crumpled. “You’re breaking up with me… in front of your parents?” Her voice was a brittle whisper.
“I’m breaking up with you because it’s right,” he murmured.
Father slammed a fist onto the table, rattling the glasses. “Jasper Ashford, you will rethink this. We do not—”
“No,” Jasper cut in sharply. “I’ve rethought it long enough. I’m done pretending.”
Janice stumbled up from her seat, a hand over her mouth as tears filled her eyes. She turned and fled, heels clicking down the marble hallway.
Mother rounded on Jasper. “How could you embarrass us like this?! After everything we’ve done to build this wedding!”
Jasper’s shoulders squared. “I’d rather embarrass you now than destroy both of our lives later.”
