CHAPTER FIFTY EIGHT

—JASMINE

“Alison, You look tired,” I say.

“Don’t change the subject. You have kids? For who? When? How?” She is relentless with her questions and I just want to shove her purse in her mouth.

She’s worse than an FBI

"Alison, me? A mother?" I scoff, trying to sound incredulous as if the idea is absurd.

Her eyes fall, her gaze drifting down to my chest, then my stomach, before returning to my face.

She shrugs, already sounding defeated, her voice laced with a hint of resignation.

"Well, you look healthier, I'll give you that," she says, her tone dripping with skepticism.

"But not like a mother, for sure." She adds, her eyes narrowing slightly as if searching for something in my expression, a hint of the truth perhaps.

Her words are a subtle dig, a reminder that I don't quite fit the mold of a mother, my denial and body aren’t giving it away.

I'm so grateful to Denzel for arranging for his team to help me get my body back in shape after giving birth.

It's been a game-changer, both p