Virgin Dot Com Novel

[Jasmine's POV] Finn's laptop sits on the passenger seat, forgotten in his rush this morning. I'm doing the good girlfriend thing-the supportive partner who brings what's needed, who shows up, who keeps the machinery of their complicated life running smoothly. The studio building is glass and steel, all clean lines and artistic ambition. I take the elevator to the third floor, laptop clutched against my chest. Their voices reach me before I reach the door. Finn and Sienna, talking in low tones that make my footsteps slow.

Something about the cadence stops me-intimate, serious, weighted with things unsaid. I should announce myself. Should knock, walk in, hand over the laptop with a smile. Instead, I back away. One step, then another. But I don't leave. "I need to tell you something." Sienna's voice, nervous in a way I've never heard. She's always confident, always composed. This tremor is new. The silence stretches. My pulse hammers in my throat. "I know this is inappropriate." The words tumble faster now. "I know you're in a relationship. But I can't keep pretending I don't feel this.

I'm in love with you, Finn. Have been for months. And I think-I hope-you feel something too. The way you look at me sometimes..." My heart stops. Actually stops, then restarts with a rhythm that feels wrong, arrhythmic. Silence. It lasts forever, each second an eternity where I die a thousand deaths. Then Finn speaks. "Sienna... I can't. I'm with Jasmine. With all of them. I have daughters." "I know." Her voice is soft, almost gentle. "But when's the last time you were happy? Really happy?" Another pause. This one tastes like poison on my tongue. "That's not fair," Finn finally says.

"No, what's not fair is pretending we don't have this connection." Sienna's gaining momentum, courage. "I see you, Finn. All of you. Not just the parts that fit into your complicated life." I step back. My legs move before my brain catches up, carrying me away from whatever Finn's response will be. Because I can't hear it. Can't stand here and listen to him choose-whether he chooses her or me, I can't witness it. The elevator ride down is a blur. Walking to my car, getting in, starting the engine-all muscle memory. My body knows what to do while my mind tries to process what just happened.

I drive without destination. Streets pass, lights change, turns happen. Eventually I realize I'm heading downtown, toward Nora's office. My therapist who I haven't seen in weeks because who has time for therapy when you're too busy holding together a relationship that's disintegrating from the inside out. Her receptionist takes one look at my face and picks up the phone. Two minutes later, Nora appears in the waiting room. One look, and she pulls me into her office, closes the door. "Talk." Everything pours out.

The loneliness that's become my constant companion, sleeping next to three men who feel increasingly distant. The disconnect that widens daily, no matter how hard we try to bridge it. I tell her about Elijah-admit the almost-kiss, the way his attention felt like oxygen to someone drowning. Sienna's confession that I wasn't supposed to hear. Elena's presence in Asher's life, professional and perfect and uncomplicated. "I'm losing them," I say. My voice sounds hollow. "Losing all of them simultaneously, and I don't know how to hold on." Nora listens without interrupting.

She's good at that-creating space for the truth to surface, no matter how ugly. Finally, she speaks. "Do you still love them?" "Yes." No hesitation. "All three?" "Yes." "Then why does it feel like you're already gone?" The question is a scalpel, cutting through layers of denial and self-protection. It finds the infected truth beneath. "Because I am." The admission cracks something open. "Part of me has already left. And I don't know how to come back." "Do you want to come back?" I open my mouth. Close it. The answer should be simple, immediate, obvious. It's not.

"What do you want?" Nora leans forward. "Really want? Not what you should want, not what makes you a good person or a good mother. What does Jasmine want?" The question splinters me. Cracks the facade I've been maintaining for months, maybe years. What rises from the rubble is raw and selfish and terrifyingly honest. "I want simple." The words scrape my throat. "I want to be someone's only choice. I want to not share. I want..." I can't finish. Can't say out loud what's crystallizing in my chest-urgent and devastating and undeniable. Because what I want might be Liam. Just Liam.

The realization is earthquake. It splits the ground beneath my feet, sends everything I've built tumbling into the chasm. Not Finn with his art and his distance and women who see him more clearly than I do. Not Asher with his intensity that feels increasingly like performance. Liam. The one who pulls me into his lap at dawn and says he misses me. Who tries so hard he's breaking himself apart. Who looks at me sometimes with such naked need that I have to look away because it's too much, too intense, too impossible when divided by three. "Jazz?" Nora's voice pulls me back.

"You okay?" "No." I meet her eyes. "I think I want to leave two of them." The words hang in the air between us. Once spoken, they can't be unsaid. Can't be taken back or softened or explained away. I've just admitted I want to blow up my entire life. And the worst part? The confession doesn't feel wrong. It feels like the first honest thing I've said in months. Nora doesn't look shocked. Doesn't look disappointed or concerned or any of the things I expected. She just nods slowly, like I've finally said something that makes sense.

"Then what are you still doing there?" The question echoes in my chest, finds no answer. Because I don't know. Inertia? Fear? Love for two men who might not be enough anymore? Or maybe I'm just a coward. Too afraid to choose, too afraid to hurt them, too afraid to admit that maybe-maybe-I was never built for this kind of love. That maybe I need simple. Need singular. Need someone to look at me and see their whole world, not a third of it. I drive home in silence.

The house is dark when I arrive-everyone still at work, still consumed by acquisitions and art and businesses that need them more than I do. The girls are with the nanny, probably eating dinner, probably happy. I stand in the entryway of this house we built together. This life we chose. And I feel nothing but the certainty settling in my bones. This can't be forever. Something has to break. Virgin Dot Com