When I opened my eyes again, I knew instantly something was wrong with my body.
I was floating in mid-air, like a ghost.
I found myself in a minimalist penthouse apartment I didn’t recognize.
Was I… dead?
Where was Griffin? If I was dead, then he…
"That's wonderful, honey! We're really pregnant!" A vaguely familiar male voice cut through my thoughts.
The front door opened. A man carried a woman into the apartment, cradling her.
This man must be the owner of the place.
And his voice… it sounded a lot like Griffin's.
"Oh, you're being silly," the woman teased. "Anyone would think you're not ready for this."
The man looked up. As it turned out, he didn't just resemble Griffin. He was Griffin.
But not quite.
He looked far more mature, calmer, and more composed.
He said, "I'm just so happy. Here, honey, sit down. I'll get you a glass of water."
I drifted down and hovered in front of the woman. When I saw her face, I froze.
This woman was me.
But not quite…
What the hell was going on?
As I listened, it finally dawned on me: this couple was Griffin and me.
But it was us from the future. Ten years from now, to be exact.
Judging by their wedding rings, we did get married.
"Honey, you're pregnant now. Why don't you just stay home and rest? Your music doesn't make much money anyway," Griffin’s voice broke through my reverie.
I looked at the blissful expression on the future Wren's face. It was an expression I'd never worn.
She nodded.
But I was screaming, No!
I'd always been dead set against marriage, but for Griffin, I could make an exception.
But giving up my music to have a baby? No way in hell.
"Wait, why did you just agree? For a kid? You're really giving up the stage for a kid?" I screamed at my future self, but no one could hear me.
I could only watch as they cozied up on the couch.
Griffin said, "Don't worry, honey. I promise to give you the best life imaginable. After all, you're the most precious gift in my life."
This future Griffin felt like a stranger.
The Griffin I knew would blush just saying the word "love." There was no way he could say something like this so smoothly.
Can a person really change this much in ten years?
My mind was reeling with questions, but I was powerless to stop what was happening.
Wren stayed home. Her days consisted of making a healthy breakfast for Griffin, cleaning the apartment, and watching TV.
It was a dull, suffocating life I would have despised.
But she seemed to enjoy it.
Her favorite thing to do was sit on the sofa, stroking the swell of her belly.
I kept screaming at her, asking about my band, demanding to know if my dreams had come true.
But Wren couldn't give me an answer.
I couldn't leave the apartment, so I was forced to stay with her, trapped in this cage called home.
One day, Griffin brought his mother, Eleanor Prescott, over.
