Divorced 3 Years, He Brought Up Our Old Days

His Affair Killed Our Child 1 Three years after their divorce, Violet ran into her ex-husband at the flower shop. Snow drifted past the window, and a cold breeze rattled the wind chimes hanging beneath the eaves. Adrian, dressed in a crisp black overcoat, dropped the flowers he had picked onto the counter and glanced at her with cold, distant eyes. Violet fumbled with her mask, then slowly wrapped the bouquet. "One hundred and thirty-four dollars, sir," she said. The man raised an eyebrow. "Add some baby's breath. My wife loves it." Without a word, Violet picked out the flowers and held them out to him without looking up. He took them quickly, but the shadow above her head lingered, heavy and silent. When she finally glanced up, Adrian spoke out of nowhere. "Baby's breath was always your favorite." Three years after their divorce, Violet Harrington ran into her ex-husband at the flower shop. Snow drifted past the window, and a cold breeze rattled the wind chimes beneath the eaves. Adrian Blake, dressed in a crisp black overcoat, dropped the flowers he had picked onto the counter and glanced at her with cold, distant eyes. Violet hesitated, her fingers brushing the mask on her face, then slowly wrapped the bouquet. "One hundred and thirty-four dollars, sir." He raised an eyebrow. "Add some baby's breath. My wife loves it." Violet did as he asked, holding the flowers out without looking up. He took them quickly, but the shadow of his presence lingered above her head. When she finally glanced up, Adrian said casually, "Baby's breath was always your favorite." She held her breath. Her voice, when it came, was eerily calm. "I'm sorry, I don't know what you mean." "You think I wouldn't recognize you just because you're wearing a mask?" Adrian's lips curved into a faint smirk. "Five years. You don't look so great." Violet's gaze dropped to her own grimy gray clothes and rough, work-worn hands. A bitter smile crossed her face. No, she did not look great at all. Seven years ago, she had graduated from JNU, married Adrian, and risen from scholarship student to the richest man's wife. She had never imagined she would end up like this. Adrian went on. "This place you work, can you even take care of Rosie here?" The name snapped her expression back to neutral. "That's not your concern, Mr. Blake." He fell silent. After a long moment, he turned and walked out. A coworker sidled up to her, scenting gossip in the air. "That guy who was just in here, I think he's the CEO of Blake Group. Do you know him?" Violet hummed. The coworker's eyes went wide. "He's legendary! I heard he fought his whole family for his ex-wife, took a hundred lashes from his grandfather, and still threw her the wedding of the century. So why did they divorce? Are the rumors exaggerated after all? Maybe he wasn't that crazy about her." "Not all of them," Violet said quietly, going still as if she had traveled back seven years. "Adrian loved her. He took her to see the northern lights in Iceld, the coral reefs in Austrailia, and they made vows together on the shore of the Aegean Isles. He played video games with her all night, ate street food with her, and backpacked on a budget together. When she got sick, Adrian stayed by her bedside the whole night and almost knelt to a JNU professor just to find her the best specialist. They had a daughter named Rosie, a little bloom of their love, a name Adrian said represented his wish for their family to always be close, joyful, and united." The coworker's eyes grew enormous. "You…" Violet said plainly. "Yes. I'm his ex-wife." The coworker snapped her mouth shut, but after a beat she couldn't help asking, "What about the kid…" Violet didn't answer. She lifted her mask to breathe. Where a pretty face had once been, there was now a web of scars, ugly and grotesque. The coworker remembered Violet had once said her ex-husband was responsible for them. The coworker realized this, and her expression softened with sympathy; she did not press the matter further. After her shift, Violet bought a cake and headed toward the cemetery. The snow fell harder, and the wind cut across her cheeks like a blade. Violet stopped in front of the gravestone, knelt, and carefully wiped it clean. She set the cake down in front of the grave and whispered, "Rosie, Mommy's here."