One of the board members, Harold, was recounting a business story.
“I told the guy the stock wasn’t even worth the paper it was printed on,” Harold said, prompting everyone to laugh.
That’s when Chris saw her.
Three tables away, she sat—Jasmine. Her dark hair was shorter now, but her smile hadn’t changed. It was the same smile that used to be his entire world.
She was dining with someone he couldn’t quite see. And then, he heard it.
Children’s laughter.
Three of them, all about five years old. Two girls and one boy, gathered around her table. Their faces radiated her warmth, but something about them made Chris’s stomach twist.
The boy’s eyes. The way one of the girls tilted her head. Familiar. Too familiar.
These weren’t just any children.
“Mr. Langston, are you alright?” Harold asked, breaking his trance.
Chris’s throat tightened. His world tilted. He couldn’t breathe.
He knew, without question, that those children were his.
