Three years after our breakup, I met Griffin again. In front of the crowded OB-GYN clinic, he wore a black suit, holding a pink cashmere shawl. Next to him was the little assistant he cheated with back then. The moment he saw me, Griffin froze in place. He looked down at my baby bump. "Here alone?" I nodded calmly. The nurse called me in. As I stood up, Griffin's voice was hoarse behind me. "Winter, about what happened... I'm sorry." I didn't stop, nor did I look back at him. Chapter 1 I hung up the phone with a smile, stroking my belly while waiting, when the seat beside me sank. I glanced instinctively and crashed into a pair of dark, deep eyes without defense. I was surprised. Didn't expect to see Griffin again. His gaze swept over my face, finally nailing onto my protruding belly. Adam's apple rolled, seeming to want to say something, but swallowed it back. I looked straight ahead, no interest in catching up. Until he squeezed out a hoarse sentence: "Here alone?" I didn't want to answer, just nodded slightly. Just then, the nurse came out: "Ms. Winter, please prepare." I supported my belly to stand up slowly. A hand reached out from the side, hovering to support my arm. I dodged subconsciously: "Thanks, no need." Griffin froze, fingertips curling slightly: "Let me help you." I ignored him, walking straight to the exam room. A suppressed voice came from behind: "Winter..." I didn't stop, pretending not to hear. During the checkup, the doctor asked routinely about history of miscarriage. I nodded, answering softly: "Yes, three years ago." On that Christmas Eve three years ago. I not only lost Griffin, but also that child. Seeing him now, my heart no longer hurts. After the checkup, I met my best friend for lunch. She studied my calm face, suddenly tearing up: "Winter, I still can't believe you really moved on." "Back then, you were so crazy for that scumbag Griffin, it scared me." I looked down at the steak on my plate, remembering myself back then. Indeed, crazy like not a human. From eighteen to twenty-five. Seven years entangled with Griffin. Ended with a breakup in New York. I held a gun to his forehead. And he, red-eyed, choked my neck deadly tight. We both wanted to win. But in the end, we both lost everything. Griffin and I were two weeds depending on each other in the foster care system. I was fiery, loved trouble. Griffin was gentle, mature like an adult. But every time something happened, he stood in front of me. Even if I stole someone else's bread. He was the one beaten black and blue on the ground. I swore, when I grew up, I would protect him. Later, I grew into a young woman. The foster father frequently asked me to serve tea to "guests." Griffin never left my side, blocking those sticky, disgusting gazes. Until that day. He came back from school to see me panicked, hands covered in blood. And the foster father, pants half down, unconscious on the floor. Griffin walked up expressionlessly, stomping hard on the man's crotch. He washed the blood from my fingers, wiped my tears. Took me away in the night. I was thirteen, he was sixteen. We slept under bridges, dug through trash for food. Were beaten half to death for a meat bun given by a stranger. I envied kids in uniforms, carefree. Griffin secretly worked construction to save for my tuition. The day I could go to school, I hugged him, crying and laughing. He touched my head, fingers rough but gentle: "I'll give you a good life." Life did get better. Griffin was smart and good at reading people. In three years, he climbed from a laborer to the corporate office. While I struggled with grades due to poor foundation. Griffin comforted me gently. We moved to New York. I could continue school, and he accepted an expatriate assignment. A bright future was ahead. That night, I was too excited to sleep. Just as I was preparing to go abroad. The foster father brought police to our door, screaming Griffin castrated him, wanting Griffin to rot in jail. While Griffin was on a business trip, I confessed to everything. That year I was sixteen, detained for intentional injury. When Griffin cried and called me stupid through the glass, I laughed heartlessly. I was mud anyway, but he had to be clean. Two years later, I was released. Ignored the bad past, flew non-stop to New York to find him. Twenty-one-year-old Griffin, in a suit, cold and noble. Only when looking at me, his face was full of indulgence. Here, no one knew our dirty past. We died once, and were reborn in this strange country. On my eighteenth birthday night, drunk, I kissed him. That night, we explored each other, becoming each other's. Pressure from school and work suffocated us. We frantically absorbed warmth from each other's bodies. Back then, neither of us thought one day I would point a gun at his head. And he would choke me, wishing me dead. When I was twenty-four, Griffin became CEO. He got busier. I did nothing daily, just enjoyed life. He fulfilled his promise of a good life. But I became unhappy. I noticed the perfume smell in the heavy alcohol scent on him. I pretended to be jealous, telling him to stay away from women. Griffin was always good-tempered, never exposing me. Just whispering in my ear during sex: "Saved it all for you. No other women, silly." I relaxed. We grew up together, survived hard times together. I should trust him. Until Stella appeared. She was the most inconspicuous assistant in Griffin's secretary team. Thin, grey, like a frightened quail. Griffin disliked her stupidity, frowning to fire her. Seeing her trembling with red eyes, I felt pity. For the first time, I interfered with Griffin's decision, speaking for her. Griffin said straight-faced, "Just this once." When Stella met my smiling eyes with fear, her face flushed red. I comforted her gently, told her not to be afraid. I didn't know then, I personally saved a demon that would swallow me. That night, Griffin bit my lip punishingly: "Like pleading for others so much?" "Why not beg me now, hmm?" Chapter 2 Later, the name Stella appeared frequently in our conversations. At first just teasing: "That idiot you saved messed up a contract today. I had to clean it up." I kissed him, praising him as a good boss. Gradually, his tone changed: "That little assistant fell asleep on the desk, drooling all over." "She's really clumsy, spilled water on herself, dared to borrow my jacket." I interrupted: "Did you lend it?" Griffin paused, then glanced at me grumpily: "Could I not? You saved her." Later, as he climbed higher, he got busier. Topics between us became fewer. I thought he was stressed, dared not disturb. We were either silent, or talking about Stella. As if without her, we couldn't talk. Though heart blocked, I chose to trust. After all, he was the one I loved for so many years. Until that day, I felt nauseous, booked a doctor. At the end of the OB-GYN corridor, I saw two familiar figures. Griffin was carefully supporting Stella, intimate posture. Panic filled me. At that moment, reason collapsed, blood rushed to my head. I couldn't hear anything. When I came to, I had rushed up and kicked Stella down. Stella screamed, clutching her belly: "Griffin... hurts... the baby..." Griffin looked up sharply. His eyes were cold as if looking at a dead object. No explanation. Didn't look at me again. Picked Stella up, shouting anxiously for a doctor. I don't know how I got home. Lights on, I had a home, but seemed to have lost it. Cold war like never before. He didn't come home for half a month. When he did, he packed all his clothes. I grabbed his sleeve hysterically, asking why he betrayed me. He wouldn't say a word to me. Just crossed his arms coldly, watching me smash everything like a madwoman. Six months ago, he accompanied me to pick a wedding dress, planning for a baby next year. I didn't understand how hearts changed so fast. I went to his company, blocked by secretaries who used to be respectful. Like a stalker, I watched him and Stella together. Watched him accompany her to checkups, moving his things into her small apartment. I naively thought, maybe he had a terminal illness, acting to push me away. Until I saw him rolling in bed with the pregnant Stella. That moment, all excuses collapsed. I rushed in, dragged Stella off the bed by her hair. Slapped her hard twice. Hearing her wails, I felt no revenge pleasure. Only heavy sorrow. The future I fantasized about was not this. Griffin sat on the messy bed, buttoning his shirt slowly. He didn't even get angry. Just looked down at me, like looking at a shrew. His gaze stabbed my heart, my grip loosened. Griffin got off the bed, gently removed my hand from her hair, as if afraid she'd hurt. Then—shoved me hard. I stumbled back, hitting the wall. He adjusted his cuffs, tone icy: "Winter, don't be ungrateful." "Everything you have I gave you. If you don't want it, plenty of people do." Glancing at me, he spoke slowly: "If you behave, the wedding at year-end proceeds. If you continue this scene, I'll send you back to the country to rot." Vision blurred, I didn't understand why the person before me was so strange. Nor what I did wrong. To save our relationship, I tried everything ridiculous. Relationship experts, psychics... Only exchanged for Griffin's increasingly undisguised disgust. Later he stopped coming home. Bought a luxury apartment opposite the company for Stella. He stopped seeing me. To see him, I threatened suicide. Stood on the company roof all night, wrist cut bloody. But gained nothing but a hideous centipede scar. Not even a look from him. During that time, my health failed rapidly. When I realized I missed my period, I saw a glimmer of hope. Holding the 3-month ultrasound, I cried in the hospital corridor. I thought God pitied me, giving me a way out in despair. Griffin loved kids most, craved a family most. Now I have a child, we can be a family again. Child has dad and mom, will be very happy. Suppressing excitement, I called him, rare calm. "Griffin, come home for dinner. I have good news." Maybe my tone was too humble, even fawning. Silence for a long time, he finally granted a word: "Okay." 8 PM. I wore his favorite red dress, cooked his favorite dishes. Door unlocked. Griffin walked in. I couldn't wait to throw myself into his arms, hugging his waist tight, choking: "Griffin... I really can't live without you." "Let's stop fighting, okay? We are going to have..." Before I finished, a timid voice came: "Griffin... Mary said it's time to feed Little Joy." "Daughter will cry if she doesn't see Daddy." Instantly, my blood froze. Joy. That was the name Griffin planned for our daughter. He had a daughter with Stella. Then what is the child in my belly? Before I spoke, Griffin's face hardened. He instinctively shielded Stella behind him. Afraid I'd go crazy and hurt his treasure. His brows knitted into a knot, face full of impatience: "Didn't you say good news? Say it, I have no time to waste." That anxious look to comfort his child stabbed my eyes. My vision blurred, whispering: "Joy?" "That's the name you promised our daughter! How could you give it to someone else?!" Griffin's eyes had no fluctuation, looking at me coldly: "Just a name, you haggle over this?" "Stella is weak, don't go crazy here." Then he looked me up and down, eyes full of disgust: "Winter, look in the mirror." "You look like a shrew right now." Shrew? Ears buzzing, mind blank. I stared at the impatient Griffin and the provocative Stella behind him. Monstrous hatred made me lose calm. I pushed Griffin away, grabbed Stella's hair, and stuffed the screaming woman into my car. "Ah!! Griffin save me!!" Griffin roared behind, I didn't listen. Locked the door, floored the gas. Seeing Stella's terrified face in the passenger seat, a flash of pleasure crossed my mind. Sped all the way to their apartment. Ignored the nanny, rushed into the bedroom, picked up the baby. And skillfully took out the gun Griffin kept in the nightstand secret compartment. Five minutes later, Griffin and Stella stood before me again. Stella leaned in his arms crying, like a tragic couple. And I became the unforgivable villain in a movie. How ironic. Hatred made me lose all reason. I raised the gun, pointing at the baby: "Stella, kneel and kowtow." "Or I shoot this bastard!" Griffin's face was iron, roaring sternly: "Winter!! Are you crazy!" I was in a trance, looking at eyes that wanted to slice me. Is he really the Griffin who depended on me for life? I once paid a psychic to see if Griffin was possessed by a demon. Or how could the real Griffin hurt me so? In my daze. Griffin snatched the baby, gave it to Stella. Other hand clamped my wrist, trying to take the gun. BANG— Deafening gunshot. Bullet hit the ceiling. Chapter 3 When I snapped back, my gun was pointing at his forehead. And Griffin pinned me on the bed, choking my neck deadly tight. Eyes red, veins popping, cursing: "Winter, you are a lunatic!" "You curse, why don't you die!" Why don't you die. Hearing this, I laughed. Laughing and crying. He took me out of hell back then, now he curses me to die. What do I live for? His voice echoed: "You curse, why don't you die!" Fine, as you wish. Wrist flipped, gun pointed at my own temple. Griffin's face changed drastically, knocking the gun away. Clatter— Gun flew. Griffin seemed relieved, then shoved me hard. Inertia threw me out, lower abdomen hitting the sharp bed corner. Severe pain hit. I fell silent, curling up to protect my belly. Griffin looked at his hand, expression blank for a second. He moved, seemingly wanting to approach. But next second, Stella's scream distracted him. "Griffin help! Daughter isn't breathing!" Griffin's hand reaching for me retracted instantly. Without looking at me again, he turned and ran out with his child and Stella. Warm liquid flowed down my legs, dying the white carpet red. Fear of losing my child woke my survival instinct. Enduring pain, I crawled to the door inch by inch. But the hand reached out only grabbed air. "Griffin..." "Save... our child..." Pity, that day, no one heard except the wind. My best friend interrupted my trance. Face ugly, looking behind me. I turned. Griffin stood by the table. Ignoring my friend's murderous gaze, he pulled a chair and sat next to me. My friend's hands shook with rage, throwing the napkin, standing up to support me: "Seeing some people makes me sick! Bad luck!" "Winter, let's go." I patted her hand, tone calm: "Okay, don't be angry. Not worth it." Not worth turning into a ghost for a man. I understood this after dying once. Not looking at Griffin, I prepared to leave. A hand suddenly grabbed my wrist. Hot, strong. Chapter 4 I frowned, as if touched by filth, shaking it off hard: "Don't touch me." Griffin's hand froze in mid-air, fingers curled, seemingly surprised by my rejection. My friend shielded me, swinging her bag at him like crazy: "Scumbag, go to hell!" "You hurt Winter so bad, still have the face to show up? I'll beat you to death!" One hit, two hits. Metal buckle smashed Griffin's forehead. Blood flowed down his pale face. He didn't dodge or fight back, just looked at me straight, eyes sorrowful. Afraid of a real accident, I hugged my friend. "Alright... calm down." "Don't dirty your hands." My friend stopped, panting, glaring at Griffin, afraid of bumping my belly. But Griffin ignored the blood. The usually arrogant man, voice choked imperceptibly: "Sorry." I froze. Dependent on each other for so many years, never saw him this fragile. But I didn't understand. Why stalk me instead of being with Stella and his daughter? What's the point of this late apology? Past is past. I sighed, eyes tired: "Leave." Turned to leave with my friend. "Winter!" Urgent steps behind. The man chased stubbornly, reaching to pull me. Terror struck. Memory of him choking me and cursing me to die vivid. I covered my neck, retreating two steps in horror. Griffin's hand froze, face pale instantly. Pain flashed in his eyes, as if he was the one hurt. Suppressing fear, I pulled my friend away. Unexpectedly, Griffin followed us like a lost soul, blood on his face. My friend looked back frequently, scared: "Is he mental? Winter, I'll call Sebastian to pick you up." Mentioning that name, panic dissipated a bit. I nodded. Looked back at the bloody figure. Since the break, I found I knew Griffin less and less. Or, never truly knew him. That day, I dragged a trail of blood out the door. But was dragged back by the returning Griffin like a dead dog. His vicious interrogation smashed onto me: "Don't I have the right to choose others?" "Must I be tied to a stained ex-con like you forever?" Curled up in pain, I still heard "Stained ex-con." He looked down, eyes full of disgust: "Those two years you served, why do you think I never visited?" "Because I didn't want to see you!" "Orphan without parents, indeed never learned to read the room." In the past, if anyone called me a bastard, I'd bite off their flesh. But now, I just looked blankly at that strange face. Touched my chest, it felt completely hollowed out. Brain blank, sharp ringing in ears. Tried hard to understand him. He said, I was a burden for years. Said he planned to dump me before going abroad. Didn't expect me to chase him to New York shamelessly. "Winter, I've had enough of you." "Just took the blame for two years, do I have to pay with my life?!" "You are a leech I can't shake!" Physical pain was nothing compared to heart pain. So, the two years of prison were blackmail in his eyes. So, our ten years together was just my wishful thinking. Unknown time later, Griffin slammed the door and left. Maybe sure I couldn't make waves, or rushing to coax his true love and daughter. I got up slowly, dragged my broken body, moved out of the apartment step by step. There was a dark sea in the distance. I had no parents, never knew a parent's hug. When cold seawater covered my nose, I felt no cold, only relief. Drifting, I dreamed. Back to childhood. Damp foster home. I grabbed a big kid's bun and ran, beaten hard, but kept the bun. That day, I grinned with missing teeth, stuffing half a dirty bun into Griffin's mouth: "Eat, you eat." Scene changed to the foster father's hideous face. Pressing on Griffin, tearing the boy's uniform. Griffin's pale face full of despair. Since then, he became more silent. Until that day, I walked to the office with a heavy porcelain pot. Said I'd pour him tea, thanking him for years of shelter. Smashed his head when he looked down. Pulled down his pants, wanted to cut off the dirty thing that hurt Griffin with shards. Griffin rushed in to stop me, and he stomped that disgusting thing. The day we left, he didn't want to take me. I followed him. Used to parting and death. Just wanted to send him off, stay a bit longer. Until Griffin turned back impatiently. Seeing my teary eyes, he sighed helplessly: "Fine, come along." I happily thought it was a signal of acceptance. Later I thought, one thing he said was right. Orphan without parents, I really couldn't read the room.
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