Chapter 20
Saif nearly ripped the swinging doors off their hinges as he stormed out of the apartment building. His chest heaved with fury, and his jaw clenched so tight it ached. He was done with Jemma—so disgusted he could barely form words.
But inside his head, thoughts surged like wildfire, igniting every raw nerve. He would take her to court. Drop every legal nightmare he could think of on her too-thin shoulders. He’d get full custody of his daughter and take her back to Lativa, where she’d be safe. Where she’d be his.
He’d hire the best nannies money could buy. Give her every opportunity, every luxury this world had to offer. He’d be a damn good father!
And Jemma?
She would never see their little girl again. Never. Then she’d know exactly what it felt like to have a child in the world and not be near them. To miss the milestones. The first steps. The giggles. The scraped knees.
She’d know what he had felt.
“Don’t do it.”
The soft voice halted him like a wall. Saif stopped short, barely avoiding a collision. His eyes snapped up—he hadn’t even noticed Jasper standing there until that moment.
The boy—no, young man—had changed. He wasn’t the scrawny teenager Saif remembered. He stood taller now, more solid. Saif was still an inch or two taller, but Jasper’s presence had a weight to it that caught Saif off guard.
Not that it mattered. Not now.
“Don’t do what?” Saif snarled, trying to step around him.
Jasper blocked him again, unflinching.
“Don’t do whatever you’re about to do,” he said firmly. “Jemma doesn’t deserve it.”
Saif’s temper detonated. He stepped in closer, looming over the boy. “She hid my daughter from me!” he growled, his voice raw with betrayal. “She left me because she didn’t trust me!”
Jasper shook his head slowly, his face unreadable. “You’re wrong.”
That was it. Saif nearly exploded. His fists curled, his breathing sharp and ragged. He was seconds away from unleashing every brutal truth he knew about the world onto this idealistic kid. But—he stopped.
There was something in Jasper’s eyes. Not fear. Not defiance. Something older. Something worn. A quiet pain that stopped Saif cold.
He swallowed hard, working to steady himself. Finally, through gritted teeth, he bit out, “What am I wrong about, then? Please—elucidate the facts for me.”
Jasper’s lips flattened into a thin, trembling line. For a moment, Saif thought he might just walk away. Or maybe throw a punch. Saif wouldn’t blame him. Hell, part of him welcomed it. A fight might actually help—might tear the fury out of his chest.
But he knew it wouldn’t be fair.
Jasper wasn’t the enemy.
Jemma was.
Wasn’t she?
Jasper’s voice, when it came, was calm but tight with something deeper than anger. “Our father left us right after I was born.”
Saif blinked. The words landed like a slap. His anger didn’t vanish—but it staggered.
“Why?” he asked quietly.
Jasper shrugged one shoulder, a small, bitter movement. “He didn’t say. Just packed a bag and disappeared. No note. No goodbye. Jemma wasn’t even a teenager. Mom had just given birth. She had to figure out the mortgage, the food, everything—on her own.”
A hollow ache opened in Saif’s chest. “That… sucks,” he said, his voice barely audible.
But Jasper wasn’t done. His arms folded tightly across his chest, like he was holding himself together. “Her first two boyfriends in high school? Both cheated on her. And then they mocked her for not wanting to have sex in front of their friends.”
Saif reeled. For a second, he couldn’t process the words. Then—rage.
Mocked her?
His Jemma? Confident, radiant, fierce Jemma?
The idea of anyone humiliating her like that made his blood boil. And the thought of her being pressured into something so degrading—he wanted to hunt those bastards down and crush them.
But more than anger, something else slid beneath his skin. Something sickening. He didn’t know. He’d never known these parts of her. And that unsettled him more than anything.
“She found our dad,” Jasper went on, his voice dropping. “Right before her graduation. She tracked him down. Sent him an invitation.”
He looked away, jaw flexing, eyes locked on a gum-stained spot of pavement like it had done him personal harm. “He emailed her back. Said he’d be there.”
The silence that followed stretched long and thick. Saif could hear the faint hum of traffic, the distant bark of a dog, the ache in his own throat.
“He didn’t show, did he?” Saif asked softly.
“Nope.” Jasper’s voice was quiet, his eyes shuttered as he tried to hide the pain clawing at the edges of his memories.
“She had a boyfriend in college, too,” he continued after a moment.
“He was two years ahead of her.” Jasper shrugged, his shoulders tight, still staring at the grimy sidewalk as he scuffed his sneaker against a crack.
“I don’t know all the details. Most of what I heard was secondhand, pieced together from overheard conversations and gaps she never filled in. ”
He paused, then lifted his gaze to meet Saif’s. His eyes were shadowed but steady. “She was twenty-two when he walked out. No fight. No warning. Just kissed her on the forehead and said goodbye. He’s in California now. Doing something with computers.”
Saif muttered several expletives under his breath, switching between five languages as fury and something else—shame—twisted in his gut.
“And then,” Jasper said quietly, “Our mom died of breast cancer.”
The fury drained from Saif’s limbs, leaving behind a hollowness that chilled his bones. His voice was rough. “She told me.”
But Jasper didn’t look at him. His gaze drifted toward the horizon, unfocused. He swallowed hard, then asked, “Did she tell you Mom didn’t have to die?”
Saif blinked, unsure what he meant.
“She stopped the treatments,” Jasper explained, his voice cracking at the edges.
“The bills… they were putting us into debt. Jemma tried to convince her not to do it. Begged her to keep fighting. But Mom… she thought we’d have a better future if she just let go.
” His hands balled into fists, and he scrubbed them roughly against his eyes before looking off into the distance.
“She died thinking it would protect us.”
Jasper’s breath hitched, and he turned away again, shoulders trembling as he tried to compose himself.
Saif stepped forward and pulled the boy into his arms without a word. Jasper resisted for a heartbeat, then sagged against him. Just for a moment. His thin arms wrapped around Saif in a clumsy, too-quick hug, the kind that spoke about someone who didn’t get held often.
Then he pulled away and sniffed, shaking his head. His dark curls bounced with the motion. The kid needed a haircut. And braces, Saif realized as Jasper wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve. And food—more food. The baggy shirt didn’t fully disguise how gaunt his frame had become.
He’s not eating enough, Saif thought grimly. Probably skipping meals to help Jemma with expenses.
Jasper stepped back and squared his shoulders. His voice was steadier when he said, “Now that you know how everyone in her life has left her, I’m asking you—don’t do whatever it is you were about to do to her.”
Saif remained silent, listening.
“She’s a good person,” Jasper went on. “She really didn’t think you’d stay. Not because she doesn’t care. But because no one ever has. Not our dad. Not her boyfriends. Not even our mom in the end.” He took a breath. “Jemma didn’t think she was worth staying for.”
“You’ve stayed,” Saif said quietly.
Jasper’s jaw flexed. “Yeah, but she knows I’ll be going to college in a couple of years. In her mind, that’s just another goodbye.” He shook his head, eyes distant. “It’s not rational, I know. But the way life’s kicked her around? It’s shaped how she sees the world.”
Jasper turned slightly, then looked back over his shoulder. His voice was low, but steady. “So maybe it’s time someone proved her wrong.”
Then he walked inside, the heavy apartment door clicking shut behind him.
Saif stood frozen, the air thick around him. He felt like he was standing at the edge of a cliff, wind howling in his ears. Jasper’s words swirled in his mind, tangled up with memories and guilt and something that felt suspiciously like regret.
Jasper was right.
Saif had been ready to call his lawyer. He’d been ready to rip Jemma’s life apart without even knowing their daughter’s name. He’d wanted revenge. Control. Justice, he’d told himself. But now...
Now he wasn’t so sure what he wanted anymore.
He turned and finally noticed the quiet ring of guards around him.
They stood in a loose semicircle, watchful but pretending not to listen.
The back door of the black SUV stood open—two more guards inside, pretending to scroll through phones, though their eyes had definitely flicked up more than once.
They’d heard everything.
Saif slid into the backseat. The door closed with a soft thunk, and the vehicle pulled away from the curb.
He didn’t speak. Just stared out the window, watching the city blur past. His reflection shimmered in the glass—hard-eyed, haunted.
In his mind, he saw a little girl with hazel eyes and long, dark braids, nose pressed against a window, waiting for her father to come home. Then that same girl at eighteen, standing alone in a cap and gown, scanning the crowd with a hopeful gaze. Waiting. Still waiting.
His chest ached.
The sunlight outside seemed too bright. The world too loud. He closed his eyes, and for the first time in a very long time, he didn’t know what to do.
He just knew he needed a minute to breathe. Maybe longer.