A moment later, the door to the master bedroom opened and closed.
He had gone to comfort the sister who "couldn't leave him."
How ironic.
When I woke the next morning, Simon was already gone.
On the nightstand sat a velvet box with a note tucked beneath it.
*Jasmine, don't be angry anymore. It's the necklace you liked.*
I flipped the box open. Inside lay a dazzling diamond necklace, a new design I had glanced at in a magazine days ago.
But I felt nothing. No joy, no excitement.
Just a dull numbness.
It was his standard operating procedure: a slap in the face followed by a sweet treat. We had played this scene countless times.
I tossed the necklace into the drawer. It landed atop a pile of other expensive "apologies."
I went downstairs. Jessica Hoffman, the housekeeper, was preparing breakfast.
"Madam, you're up? Would you like some hot milk?"
I shook my head. The thought of food made my stomach turn.
Jessica had been hired by Simon to manage the household. Warm-hearted, but she talked too much.
"When Mr. Henson left this morning, he asked me to tell you he's sorry."