Friends

Chapter 57

A/N: The Book is FINISHED! Read the entirety of it on my Patreon along with other exclusive content if you want to check those out!

Jasmine's POV:

"You've shown Marc, and you've shown me, that you're more than capable of taking secrets to the grave if it benefits you," Jaylin says, his tone sharp. "So I don't expect you to be honest with me or him about how many times you've seen Kendrick behind his back—or if you're still seeing Kendrick behind his back. Because at the end of the day you've always put yourself first."

The words hit like a gut punch. My body goes still. My chest tightens. My breath shallows. It's like my entire nervous system is shutting down.

I can't move.

I can't speak.

All I can do is sit there, heart racing, as his words loop in my head like a punishment I already thought up for myself. Shame spreads through me like poison—slow and burning and hard to breathe through. I feel it in my throat, in my fingertips, in the space between each beat of my heart. He's not saying anything I haven't already feared was true.

But then something else starts to rise—hot and electric.

Anger.

Who the fuck is he to say all this to me? Who is he to judge the parts of my healing he hasn't even tried to understand? I've made mistakes, yes. But I've owned them. I've been working through them. And I'm still here. Still trying. Still fighting for something better.

My hands start to tremble in my lap. My throat tightens. My cheeks are hot with the shame of being misunderstood and the rage of being misjudged. I feel it bubbling up inside me like a scream that's been waiting years to escape. This time, I won't shrink. This time, I won't let someone define my growth by my lowest moments.

"With all due respect," I say, my voice low but firm, "I understand that you're Marc's best friend, and I want us to be on good terms with one another. But respectfully, you're wrong. And I'd appreciate it if you stopped making these horrible assumptions about me."

Jaylin raises an eyebrow but stays quiet.

"First of all," I say, sitting up straighter, "Kendrick cut me off because he started talking to another woman. So when I was reaching out to him, he wasn't even responding. That whole narrative of us still fucking and me just finally feeling guilty? That's not true."

I grab my phone, unlocking it and holding it out.

"Here's your proof," I add, showing him the text thread between Kendrick. "If you're thinking to yourself, 'Oh, but you kept reaching out,' I stopped after the second day. And all I said then was 'Text me if you need something. I'll always be here for you. I'll always love you.' And then I left it at that. This was months ago."

Jaylin nods slowly, taking it in.

"Second of all," I say, my voice cracking slightly but growing in confidence, "I'm grateful he cut me off. Because that time apart allowed me to finally see Marc for the amazing man he really is—without distraction. It gave me the clarity I didn't know I needed. Yes, I've fucked up. I'm working on myself. Constantly. Healing from all the trauma. But no one talks about this part—when someone holds you accountable and wants the best for you, it can feel like you're always the problem. It doesn't feel good. It makes you feel like you're the problem and that you're a bad person. It literally makes you question everything."

I swallow hard.

"And yeah, that sucked. Always feeling like the issue? It weighed on me. But when Kendrick hit me up that night, I finally saw him clearly. Every toxic, manipulative behavior my therapist warned me about? It was like a light flipped on. I saw it all. And I realized that being around him—being reduced to some pit stop for his ego—that felt a million times worse than holding myself accountable ever could."

I draw a breath and continue.

"And yeah, I was hurt. Emotionally wrecked. But I also have needs. Marc had been teasing me for weeks—close, intimate, but never crossing the line. It made me crave something physical. And even though Marc and I didn't have sex, the foreplay alone? It was enough to show me just how different he is. How much better. That night with Kendrick... it only made that contrast clearer. I left thinking, 'Damn. I really wasted my time.'"

I pause, then look Jaylin dead in the eye. And I feel it all rise—the weight, the fear, the doubt—all of it finally spilling over. My voice comes out with a tremble, but it doesn't break.

"I'm not proud of going over there. But I'm human. We all make mistakes. Growth isn't linear. And for the first time ever, I hated being around Kendrick. That's never happened before. That showed me how far I've come. So if you're going to sit here and try to paint me as the person I was when Marc and I first started talking, then what you're really saying is that people can't grow. That they can't get better."

I sit up even straighter. My pulse is loud in my ears.

"I've seen Marc grow. I've watched him heal. And he's doing the same for me. He's making me better. And I'm making him better. And I'm not going anywhere—because I love that man. And I would do anything for him."

The room is quiet. I feel like a weight has lifted off my chest. Like I'm just now realizing how long I've been holding it all in. Like saying it out loud made it real.

Jaylin grins wide, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I really like you, Jasmine," he says warmly.