Chapter 1: Keep Your Flowers
The bouquet hit the pavement before anyone could understand what had happened.
Adrian stood frozen, one hand still extended toward Jasmine, while crushed white roses scattered beneath the heel of her graduation shoe. Around them, families continued taking pictures, but the laughter had gone strangely quiet.
“Keep your flowers.””
Jasmine lifted her chin.
She was twenty-two, dressed in a burgundy graduation gown, her long braids falling over her shoulders. Her graduation cap sat slightly crooked on her head. She had spent the morning smiling for photographs, hugging classmates, and posing beside the auditorium steps.
Adrian had watched every second of it with pride.
He had been holding that bouquet for nearly twenty minutes.
He had chosen the flowers himself.
Now they were under her foot.
Adrian slowly lowered his hand.
“Jasmine,” he said quietly.
She stared at him.
“What?””
Monique, Jasmine’s mother, rushed one step forward.
“Baby, what are you doing?””
Jasmine didn't look at her.
“I said I don't want them.””
Adrian glanced down.
One of the roses had been torn from the wrapping. Its stem was bent, the petals pressed into the concrete.
He swallowed.
“I thought you liked roses.””
“I like flowers,” Jasmine replied.
“Just not from you.””
A camera shutter clicked somewhere behind them.
Another family had stopped taking pictures.
Monique's face tightened.
“Jasmine, today is supposed to be about you graduating.””
“It is about me.””
She stepped away from the ruined bouquet.
“And that's why I'm finally saying what I should've said years ago.””
Adrian looked at Monique.
She wouldn't meet his eyes.
That was the first thing that frightened him.
Not Jasmine.
Not the flowers.
Monique.
Because Monique knew something.
Adrian had spent fourteen years believing he understood his place in Jasmine's life.
He remembered her at eight years old, falling asleep against his shoulder during a thunderstorm.
He remembered teaching her how to ride a bicycle in the apartment parking lot.
He remembered the first time she called him “Dad.””
She had been eleven.
She'd said it accidentally.
Adrian had pretended not to hear because he didn't want to embarrass her.
But that night, after Jasmine went to bed, he'd sat alone in the kitchen and cried.
He had never forgotten it.
Neither had she.
Apparently.
Jasmine looked at him now with something colder than anger.
“I only want flowers from my real dad.””
Adrian blinked.
The words landed harder than the sight of the bouquet.
“Your real dad?””
Jasmine nodded.
“Yes.””
Adrian gave a short, disbelieving laugh.
“You mean Marcus?””
The name made Monique flinch.
Jasmine noticed.
“So you remember him.””
“Of course I remember him,” Adrian said.
“Then you know what I mean.””
Adrian stared at her.
Marcus had disappeared from their lives when Jasmine was eight.
No goodbye.
No birthday calls.
No Christmas cards.
Nothing.
Adrian had stayed.
He had driven Jasmine to school.
He had sat through parent-teacher conferences.
He had worked overtime to keep bills paid.
He had learned how she liked her pancakes.
He had sat in emergency rooms when she broke her wrist.
He had helped her fill out college applications.
And today, he had stood beneath the Georgia sun holding flowers because he wanted to see her smile.
Jasmine folded her arms.
“You don't get to act like you're my father just because you've been around.””
Adrian's jaw tightened.
“Just because I've been around?””
“Yes.””
Monique whispered, “Jasmine…”
But Jasmine wasn't finished.
“You were Mom's husband.””
Adrian looked at Monique.
Then back at Jasmine.
“That's all I was?””
Jasmine's expression flickered.
For half a second, something like regret crossed her face.
Then it disappeared.
“You knew I had a father.””
Adrian nodded slowly.
“I did.””
“Then stop pretending.””
A breeze moved through the courtyard.
Graduates crossed the steps behind them, laughing with families who had come to celebrate.
Adrian heard someone whisper.
“Is that her dad?””
Another voice answered.
“I don't know.””
His fingers curled.
He looked down at the bouquet again.
The wrapping paper crackled under Jasmine's shoe.
“Okay,” he said.
Jasmine seemed surprised by how calm he sounded.
“Okay?””
Adrian nodded.
“You want your real dad?””
“Yes.””
“Then tell me something.””
He took one slow breath.
“Where was he when you needed him?””
Jasmine's eyes narrowed.
“You don't get to ask me that.””
“Why not?””
“Because you don't know everything.””
Adrian looked at Monique.
“Apparently I don't.””
Monique's lips parted.
“Adrian, please.””
He stared at her.
“Please what?””
She said nothing.
Jasmine shifted her weight.
For the first time, her confidence seemed less solid.
Adrian bent down and picked up one of the roses.
Its petals were dirty.
He held it between two fingers.
“I bought these because I thought you deserved something beautiful today.””
Jasmine looked away.
He placed the damaged rose gently on the wrapping paper.
“Maybe I was wrong.””
Then he turned toward the auditorium.
Behind him, Monique whispered his name.
“Adrian…”
He stopped.
But he didn't turn around.
“What?””
There was a long silence.
May you like
Then Monique said the one sentence that made him turn back.
“We need to talk about what happened before you met us.””