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Mr. Danya
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Sandy’s anger rose with Jasmine’s as she fired back her heated insults.

There was no surprise as her shallow offer for help devolved into all the insults that he’d predicted, but it didn’t make him feel any better whatsoever. He didn't enjoy any quiet victory over how he'd completely anticipated how this hypocrite was going to treat him, just more frustration that he had been right the entire time. He was so sick of repeating this whole damned thing by now.

Then Jasmine crossed the line.

His hateful glare turned into stunned disbelief, as his mouth hung agape amidst the silence between them. He almost dropped his weapon in that moment as every tension in his body stuttered.

She'd really just said it. She couldn't have, but she had.

She wasn't allowed to talk about it. She wasn't allowed to remind him about it.

No-one was allowed. No-one had the right to bring it up so easily. like they were asking him about the weather. No-one was allowed to mention it as if they had any right whatsoever. Only a few people were allowed to talk to him about it at all.

Nobody else.

Not Jasmine.

He was advancing on her, and the bottle was threatening to shatter in his hand from how tightly he was squeezing its neck, but all he could focus on was the girl in front of him.

“You don’t talk about it!”
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