STEPHAN
The next morning I woke first, my arm still wrapped protectively around Jasmine. She didn't eat dinner last night and just fell asleep.
She slept curled against my chest, her breathing slow and even now, but the faint bruises on her back and arms were a stark reminder of last night's nightmare.
My jaw tightened seeing her like that on her knees, hurting because my own blood had cracked something deep inside me. I had always known my father's disapproval ran cold, but I never imagined it would turn violent toward her.
I shifted carefully, not wanting to wake her yet. Her face looked peaceful in sleep, lashes resting against her cheeks, lips slightly parted.
The woman in my arms wasn't the same Jasmine from before the accident. Yes, I could tell there were a lot of changes right from when she woke up, in the look in her eyes, and how she acted.
