Stanley assumed that when Jasmine mentioned tidying up the garden, she only meant pulling out a few weeds.

After all, every tulip in their yard had been painstakingly planted by Jasmine herself for their wedding.

Seeing him stand there, silent and grim-faced, Jasmine reached out and tugged at his sleeve, her voice intentionally tinged with a fragile innocence. “Stanley, are you mad at me?”

She knew full well that with a question like that, even if ...