Jasmine Trauma and Divorce

Six months of meticulous work had finally paid off. I stepped back from the easel, my eyes tired but filled with satisfaction as I examined "The Merchant's Wife." The 18th-century painting had been severely damaged by water, the colors bleeding across the canvas like tears. Now, after countless hours of careful restoration, the merchant's wife gazed out at me with the same serene expression she'd worn centuries ago.

"It's perfect, Cassandra," said Mei, my studio partner, peering over my shoulder. "The National Museum is going to be thrilled."

I smiled, running my fingers lightly over the frame. "It feels like bringing someone back to life."

My phone buzzed with a reminder: the celebration dinner was tonight. Victoria Sterling, the museum director, had insisted on hosting an exclusive event to mark the restoration's completion. My work would be featured in their winter exhibition—a career milestone I'd dreamed of since graduate school.

I gathered my things quickly, eager to share the news with Drew. He'd been distant lately, but surely this achievement would make him proud.

"Drew?" I called as I pushed open our front door. "The restoration is finished! The museum wants to feature it in their winter exhibition!"

He was sprawled on the couch, his attention fixed on his phone. He glanced up briefly, his smile not quite reaching his eyes.

"That's great, honey." He returned to his screen immediately, thumbs tapping rapidly.

I set my bag down, noticing the slight tightening in my chest. "I thought we could celebrate. There's a dinner tonight at the Westwood Gallery."

Drew's fingers paused over the keyboard. "Tonight?"

"Yes, I mentioned it last week." I kept my voice light, though disappointment was already settling in my stomach. "Victoria Sterling is hosting. Several collectors will be there."

He sighed, finally setting his phone down. "I'll be there. I just... hope everyone can be civil."

Something in his tone made me pause. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing." He stood, kissing my cheek distractedly. "We should get ready soon."

---

The private dining room at Westwood Gallery gleamed with candlelight. I smoothed my navy dress—a splurge I'd allowed myself for tonight—and chatted with colleagues while waiting for Drew.

"He's here," whispered Mei, nodding toward the entrance.

My smile faltered as I saw Drew enter with Nevaeh clinging to his arm. Her jasmine perfume arrived before she did, making my throat tighten instinctively.

"I invited myself," Nevaeh announced loudly as they approached our table. "Family should stick together at important events, shouldn't they?"

Drew's hand rested on her waist as he helped her into a chair. "Nevaeh insisted on coming to support you."

I nodded stiffly, trying to focus on the conversation around me rather than the cloying scent of jasmine.

Victoria raised her glass for a toast. "To Cassandra Howard, whose remarkable skill has brought 'The Merchant's Wife' back to life."

Glasses clinked as Drew slipped away, returning moments later with a special cocktail.

"I ordered this for you," he said, placing it before me. "Something