Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

Jasmine sat quietly in her apartment that evening, the hum of the city outside providing little comfort as her mind raced. Penelope's teasing words about Konrad lingered in her thoughts, but it wasn't just his presence that unsettled her. It was the implication—the fact that Antonio's world had touched hers in a way she hadn't expected.

She hadn't asked for any of this.

A knock at her door pulled her from her musings.

Jasmine hesitated for a moment before getting up and walking to the door, her thoughts still tangled in the aftermath of the night. When she opened it, she was greeted not by Penelope, but by Caleb, her coworker from the clinic.

"Hey, Jasmine," Caleb greeted, his usual warm smile on his face. "Mind if I come in for a minute?"

Jasmine nodded, stepping aside to let him in. "What's up?"

Caleb closed the door behind him, looking unusually serious. "I... wanted to check in on you. You've seemed a little off lately."

Jasmine sighed, sinking into the couch. "It's just work. The usual."

He took a seat next to her, glancing at her carefully. "It's not just work, though, is it?"

She was quiet for a moment, unsure of how to respond. She had always tried to keep things professional, keeping her personal life separate from her work. But Caleb had known her for years now, and he could tell when something was bothering her.

Finally, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know, Caleb. I've just been feeling like everything's... out of control. Like things are moving faster than I can keep up with."

He nodded, understanding. "I get it. Life has a way of doing that sometimes. But if you need someone to talk to, you know I'm here."

Jasmine managed a weak smile. "Thanks, Caleb. I appreciate it."

He leaned back slightly, still watching her with concern. "Is this about Antonio? I've noticed you seem distracted when you talk about him."

Jasmine's breath caught in her throat. She hadn't realized how obvious it had been.

"I don't know, Caleb. It's just... I didn't expect any of this," she said, gesturing vaguely. "I didn't expect him to be like this. And now with Konrad showing up at the bar, it feels like I'm in over my head."

Caleb was silent for a moment, as if weighing his words carefully. "Listen, Jasmine, I don't know Antonio, but I do know you. And you're stronger than you give yourself credit for. Whatever this is—whatever's happening—you can handle it. But you need to trust yourself more than you trust whatever this world he's part of is."

Jasmine nodded slowly, but her thoughts were still tangled. The way Konrad had looked at her, the way Isabella had made her feel like she was being watched... everything was becoming too much.

"I'll be okay," she said softly, though she wasn't entirely sure she believed it herself.

Caleb stood up, offering a hand to help her to her feet. "Good. And remember, if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask. I'm always around."

Jasmine smiled at him gratefully. "Thanks, Caleb. I mean it."

He gave her a reassuring smile before heading for the door. "Anytime."

As he left, Jasmine closed the door behind him and leaned against it, her thoughts a whirlwind.

She needed to figure out what was happening, what Antonio and his world meant for her. She needed answers—and she was running out of time before everything collided in a way she couldn't control.

And then, as if the universe itself had timed it, her phone buzzed.

She glanced at the screen, and her heart skipped a beat.

It was a message from Antonio.

We need to talk.

Her pulse quickened.

She wasn't ready for this conversation. Not yet. But deep down, she knew it was coming. And there was no avoiding it.

She took a deep breath and replied.

Okay. When?

She stared at her phone as the message sent, waiting for his response.

Her phone buzzed again almost immediately.

Tonight. I'll pick you up at 8.

Jasmine swallowed hard, a strange mix of anticipation and dread swirling inside her.

It seemed like this was the beginning of something—something that would change everything.

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