After I Disappeared, He Realized that He Loved Me

I never married, yet I followed Peter Griffin for ten years.

He finally secured his position as the head of the Griffin Family and that night, he sent me an exquisitely crafted blueberry cheese cake to celebrate.

After escaping danger, I lay in the hospital bed, disheartened. With indifference, I pulled out my phone and broke up with Peter, "Peter, let me go."

The call came quickly, but it was his young fiancée on the line, "Hillary, I'm sorry, I picked the wrong cake. I didn't know you were allergic to cheese. If you want to blame someone, blame me, but don't be mad at Peter." Her tone was cold, without a trace of guilt.

Peter's impatient voice followed, "It's not your fault, no need to apologize. She throws a tantrum every few days. Hang up and ignore her."

——

The celebratory banquet lasted three days and nights and Peter spent the next two days at his young fiancée's house to meet her parents. So, it was five days later when he finally came home.

By then, the allergic reaction that had left me covered in red welts had subsided and I appeared no different than usual.

"Make me a cup of hangover tea. I've had too much to drink these past few days," he said, tossing his suit jacket carelessly by the door and loosening his tie with one finger as he collapsed onto the sofa with his eyes closed.

I sat curled up in the corner of the sofa, holding Timmy, who had eaten and was now licking his fur in my arms. I didn't move, idly fiddling with a mobile game on my phone.

After waiting for a while, Peter opened his eyes and glanced at me, letting out a long, silent sigh.

Weary and frustrated, he pulled a cosmetics gift box from his briefcase and said, "Stop causing trouble. You're fine now, aren't you? This is your compensation."

The unfamiliar brand and the words 'anti-aging' in large print pierced my heart. In the past, he would do his homework before choosing a gift for me, asking about my preferences in a roundabout way.

He even took time to consult professionals for advice, fearing that I would not like the gift he gave me.

But now, he couldn't even be bothered to take a second look. I glanced at it briefly and then turned my gaze away.

"What? You don't like it?" His voice was tinged with suppressed anger and I could see the impatience in his eyes.

He continued, "Jewelry is too flashy for you, clothes and bags you don't wear, but you still use skincare products, don't you? Why can't you just be content? Stop looking so miserable all the time!"

I turned off my phone, not wanting to waste any more words on him and said, "Peter, aren't you tired? I'm tired too. Give me back my ID card and let me go."

Peter clenched his jaw and ignored me.

"Peter, give me my ID card!" I shouted.

He slammed the skincare products down on the coffee table and yelled, "Not this again! Can you stop being so difficult and just be reasonable for once?"

He continued, "I've worked so hard to secure my position in the Griffin Family with the help of Claire's family. Marrying you is just postponed, I won't go back on my word. Besides constantly pushing me to marry you, what else can you do?"

I didn't know when it started, but Peter had convinced himself that all my so-called tantrums were simply to force him into marriage.

But his engagement to Claire was a done deal, publicly announced and heavily reported by the media. Yet, he still claimed he'd marry me.

But right now, I had no desire to marry him at all!

A wave of bitterness surged up in my chest and tears began to well up uncontrollably. I took a deep breath, barely managing to suppress them.

Seeing me stay silent for so long, he assumed, as always, that I had calmed down. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sat back down on the sofa and said, "Why didn't you go see Joshua the day before yesterday? My mother was furious about it. How can you, as his mother, be so indifferent? How do you have the nerve to complain that he's not close to you?"

Joshua was my son, now he was three years old, but I had barely been in his life. Since the moment he was in my womb, he became the tool the Griffin Family used to control my life.

"Claire and I were so busy these past two days, yet we both made time to visit Joshua. She even brought him his favorite toys. So, what kind of mother are you?" Peter mocked me.

The day before yesterday had been the middle of the month, the only day I was allowed to see Joshua.

The doctor had wanted me to stay in the hospital for further observation, but I had insisted on being discharged.

After dragging my weak body through the discharge process, I rushed to the Griffin Manor, only to be stopped at the door by the butler. He said the time had passed and that Peter's grandmother was having dinner with Joshua, Peter and Claire.

Through the half-open door, I saw Peter smiling as he gently blew on a bowl of soup and handed it to Claire. We had fought countless times over Joshua and Claire and it had drained all my energy. I was truly exhausted.

I smiled bitterly and looked at him, my voice unnervingly calm when I shouted, "Peter, I'm pregnant! If I give birth, will I be allowed to raise this child myself?"

The tight frown on his face seemed to relax for a moment and I thought I saw a flicker of joy, but as my words sank in, his frown deepened again. He didn't speak, but I already knew the answer.

I laughed and said, "A child without a mother, no matter how well they're provided for, is still unfortunate. Luckily, due to my allergic reaction, I briefly went into shock. The baby ... the baby is gone."