Her thumb hovered over the screen. She didn't want to listen, but she couldn't stop herself.
The message played through the speaker.
"You think you're too good for us now? You think that man is worth more than your own family? You'll regret this, Jasmine. You'll regret throwing us away."
The voice was sharp, trembling with rage. Her mother's voice.
Her stomach flipped. Her throat burned. She pressed delete. Another one came up immediately.
"You're selfish. You've always been selfish. Don't come crawling back when he leaves you. Don't come crawling back when it all falls apart."
Jasmine deleted that one too, then the next, then the next. The pile never seemed to shrink.
Her father. Her sister. Each voice sharper than the last, spitting words that cut deeper because they came from people who once rocked her to sleep, braided her hair, held her hand at school recitals.
She hit block again and again. Numbers, social accounts, anything they found to slip through. It felt endless, like trying to dam a river with her bare hands.
But she couldn't let them in. Not anymore.
Bruce had already warned her twice last week. "They've been outside the gates again. Shouting, asking to see you." His voice had been polite, but his eyes had been apologetic.
She had stood at the bottom of the stairs, her pulse thundering. Aubrey had come up behind her, his hand on the small of her back, grounding her. "Go upstairs. I'll handle it."
She went no contact that day. For good.
Her daughters. Her marriage. Her peace.
That was what mattered now.
Even if it meant erasing her parents' numbers, even if it meant blocking her sister on every platform, even if it meant the gnawing grief of silence where family used to be.
"Jas?" Aubrey's voice broke through the fog.
She blinked, realizing she had been staring at the phone again, her tea long gone cold on the table.
He leaned against the doorway, hoodie loose on his frame, curls slightly damp from his shower. His eyes found the phone in her hand, then her face.
"You don't need to keep doing that." His tone wasn't scolding, just gentle. A reminder.
She exhaled, setting the phone face down. "I know."
