Chapter 291 | I Thought We Might Be Together

Chapter 291: 291 | I Thought We Might Be Together

"These are my... wives."

Jasmine swallowed the discomfort bubbling deep in her chest and smiled. "It’s nice to meet you."

Mira tilted her head and nodded, Selene muttered "Hello." and Lyra watched the words appear across the lenses of her glasses before giving a small wave.

Then she moved closer to Dexter. She did not take his arm but simply stood beside him.

Jasmine instantly noticed it.

"Please, sit," he said.

Jasmine lowered herself onto the sofa and finally released the paper bag.

There was an awkward silence that was even louder than music in the club and the tension in the air was so thick.

Jasmine cleared her throat and spoke.

"I brought something."

"You didn’t have to."

"I know."

His fingers stilled. Jasmine seemed to realize what she had said at the same moment.

The room remained quiet as she drew out a plain ceramic mug, around which was a knitted sleeve in a warm shade of blue. The knitting was neat except for one slightly uneven row near the bottom.

Dexter stared at it.

"I saw the wool in a shop," Jasmine said. "It reminded me of that sweater. I thought a mug might be more useful now."

He ran his thumb over the uneven stitches. "You still pull the thread too tightly at the corners."

Her lips parted, and then she laughed under her breath. "You remember that?"

"Yeah..."

Dexter smiled, and this time the expression reached his eyes slowly. Mira looked down at her own hand.

Jasmine continued, her voice softening. "The old sweater was too big for you."

"It fit."

"The sleeves covered half your hands."

"It fit," he repeated.

Jasmine stopped arguing. She remembered how fiercely he had insisted on that, how carefully he had folded the sleeves afterward rather than allow her to shorten them. Dexter set the mug on the table carefully.

"Thank you."

"You’re welcome."

Lyra’s gaze moved from the mug to his face, and then she sat down beside him without saying anything.

Dexter went to prepare tea, and Jasmine followed him with her eyes.

"You still count the cups first."

He glanced back. "What?"

"Before putting the water on."

He looked down at the cups arranged beside the kettle, and a faint, almost embarrassed smile appeared. "Old habit."

Jasmine nodded.

At the estate, using too much of anything could become an excuse for punishment, too much water, too much tea, too much time.

Mira’s fingers curled against the edge of her blanket.

Dexter noticed it and immediately changed the subject.

He asked about her work, and she told him about the transfer, the new branch, and how Rachel had somehow introduced her to half the building before lunchtime.

Gradually, the awkwardness eased.

When Dexter brought out a small plate of food, Jasmine took one bite and fell silent. He watched her.

"Well?"

She swallowed, then looked at the plate again. "It’s way better than before."

She took another bite, and her eyes grew bright.

He had once cooked for her using scraps taken from the edges of other people’s meals. He had arranged it carefully, still watched her face while she tasted it.

Suddenly, Jasmine’s gaze fell to the pancake and she smiled. "Do you still eat the crisp pieces," Jasmine said.

Dexter glanced at the browned edge of the small pancake on her plate and shrugged. "Yeah. They do taste better."

"You used to say that about the bread crusts too."

Dexter shrugged and replied. "They also taste better."

"It’s only because everyone else had taken the middle."

The words came out gently, but they hurt anyway.

Selene’s hand stopped around her cup, and for a moment the only sound was the kettle settling in the kitchen. Dexter gave a small shrug.

"I had excellent taste under difficult circumstances."

Jasmine smiled but Mira’s gaze was becoming colder. She had lived with Dexter for months and yet, she didn’t know these things about him.

Mira looked at his hand. ’He’s doing it now.’

She had seen that movement before and thought he was merely thinking.

Across the room, Selene listened to Jasmine speak about a young man who had existed long before Dexter entered their lives. Someone lonely, hungry, and needed kindness as desperately as they later had.

And Jasmine had given it to him. There had been no rare materials or treasures it even then, Jasmine had cared for him when nobody else did.

Selene lowered her face. That morning, Dexter had kissed her forehead, and she had held on to him.

All day, she had carried the warmth of that memory like something precious. Now a small, unwelcome thought crept in: perhaps tenderness came easily to him. Perhaps she had mistaken taken care of for being loved.

Beside Dexter, Lyra wanted to say something but stoppe.

She followed the conversation through her glasses, her hands folded in her lap, and when he shifted to reach for the teapot, she immediately moved to give him room.

Dexter immediately noticed that and his brows furrowed together slightly, but before he could ask, Jasmine spoke.

"You really did it."

Dexter turned toward her. "Did what?"

She looked around the room. "The kitchen. A place of your own."

His gaze followed hers. "Oh."

"You used to talk about it on the roof." A small smile touched her mouth. "A quiet house. Somewhere you can live in peace."

Dexter’s expression softened. "I remember."

Jasmine looked at him for a long moment, then her fingers tightened around her cup. "You always told me you wanted to leave that house." Something in her voice changed. "I thought... when it happened, we would be together. I guess fate has other plans."

The room instantly went dead silent.

Selene’s cup grew cold between her hands, and Lyra looked down before her glasses could finish displaying the sentence. Jasmine seemed to become aware of the room around her all at once, and a flush rose to her face.

"I’m sorry," she said. "That sounded—"

"Jasmine."

Dexter’s voice was gentle. She looked at him.

There were too much history behind a sentence that sounded so simple. After a moment, Jasmine nodded.

"I should let you enjoy the rest of your Sunday. I’ve stayed longer than I intended."

She stood, smoothing her skirt then walked outside the house with Dexter following behind her.

Just as they reached the gate, Jasmine suddenly turned back and gave him a folder.

"I heard you also became an Arcane Chef."

Dexter opened the folder and there were photographs of a small commercial property in another city, rental figures, notes about nearby residential streets, and the contact details of a food supplier. Dexter’s brows drew together.

"I have contacts with the owner," Jasmine explained. "The previous tenant left recently. It isn’t large, but there’s a kitchen space, a front room, and storage at the back."

He studied the photographs. It was modest, clean, a little old-fashioned—the kind of place where someone could begin.

"With your ability, you wouldn’t need a prestigious address immediately," she continued. "Once people tasted your food, they would come."

"Jasmine..."

"I know it would take money. I have some savings. Not enough for everything, but enough to help with the deposit. And I’ve checked the Association vacancies there. A transfer wouldn’t be impossible."

Dexter looked up. "You only just arrived here."

"I know."

Her hands trembled slightly. "I’ve had years to think about what I would do differently if I saw you again."

The place became very quiet.