For days, Melissa had been staying with Mike. He'd booked her a suite far from the city—far from the chaos that had nearly broken her.
Still, Mike hadn't taken Melissa without informing Jasmine.
"How is she?" Jasmine asked, taking a seat in the adjacent room. Her eyes followed Mike as he quietly closed the door.
Mike sighed. "She's doing better than when I picked her up, but she's barely eating. Jasmine, this is what I've been telling you."
"This is not what you've been telling me, Mike," Jasmine shot back. "What you've been telling me is to get a divorce and live with you."
"It's the same thing," Mike hissed. "Our daughter thinks her world is over—and it is. If you'd stopped her and taken her away sooner, she wouldn't be like this! Jasmine, do you even know what your daughter told me when she called?"
His voice cracked, hands resting on his hips. "She said she wanted to die. Do you know what it feels like for a parent to hear that?"
