Too Late to Love Her: When She Divorced, He Fell Apart-Chapter 6: I Won’t Have Children With Him

Chapter 6: Chapter 6: I Won’t Have Children With Him
Jenson: "Just got off the plane, and here I am, dragged by Nathan and Tristan to drink."
"When you’re free, let’s have a meal."
She asked naturally, but the pressure on her right kept dropping.
Jenson glanced at Tristan Lockwood’s icy expression and gave a faint smile: "Why the sudden invitation to dinner?"
Claire: "During my study abroad days, you helped me a lot."
A few years ago, when she chased Tristan Lockwood overseas for studies, he was indifferent to her, often leaving her alone in a rented apartment with her poor English. Unfamiliar with the place, she gradually found her footing thanks to Jenson’s help several times.
"It was just a small effort, no need to remember it, you can treat me to dinner, but I’ll pay."
After speaking, Jenson turned to Tristan Lockwood and said, "Tristan, if I have dinner with Claire to catch up, you won’t mind, will you?"
"I won’t."
Tristan Lockwood glanced at Claire indifferently and said, "Who she has dinner with is her freedom."
Claire’s fingers holding the wine glass froze for a second, then she lifted the glass and drank it in one go.
By the third glass, a slender arm grabbed her thin wrist, and Tristan Lockwood’s exceedingly cold voice murmured by her ear: "Why drink so much, are you planning to cause a scene on the street again?"
His breath was cold, yet his palm was scorching hot.
Claire withdrew her hand, frowned at him: "How do you know about that?"
On her eighteenth birthday, she drank too much and passed out; it was Jenson who told her the next day that she’d made a scene on the street, crying her eyes out and confessing to random passersby.
It was her embarrassing past, known only to her and Jenson. Claire looked at Jenson and asked if he sold her out.
Jenson slightly squinted with a deep smile: "I can swear to the heavens, I never told a third person."
Her brows furrowed even more tightly.
Tristan Lockwood lazily glanced at her and spoke monotonously: "You’re forgetting you told me yourself?"
She was a little incredulous: "Would I tell you something like that?"
She deliberately emphasized the word "you," indicating that she and he weren’t close enough to share embarrassments.
Sure enough, Tristan Lockwood’s face turned sullen as he said impatiently: "When you were shamelessly clinging to me, you wished I knew everything about you, inside and out, didn’t you make everything clear?"
That was true enough.
To marry into the Lockwood Family, she’d been chasing after him since high school. Of all the tactics to pursue someone, Claire believed sincerity was most important, so she didn’t hide anything and talked to Tristan Lockwood about everything under the sun.
She pressed her lips tightly, carefully recalling when she might have let it slip. The memory eluded her, and she was feeling slightly dizzy from the effort.
"I’m going to the restroom."
She stood up too abruptly and accidentally bumped into Tristan Lockwood’s leg, stumbling forward. Before she could steady herself, Tristan Lockwood had already supported her by the waist.
Having had some alcohol, Claire’s body was somewhat sensitive. Tristan Lockwood’s grip wasn’t strong, but it pricked her nerves, making her shiver slightly.
She instinctively lowered her gaze to look at Tristan Lockwood and collided with his deep eyes.
Claire quickly avoided his gaze and walked straight to the bathroom.
The bar restroom was unisex and somewhat disorderly; Claire splashed cold water on her face, calmed down in the cubicle for a while, then opened the door to leave.
Little did she know, she was quickly surrounded by a familiar and aggressive aura. Before she could react, Tristan Lockwood had already pushed her back into the cubicle, pressing her against the door panel.
In the narrow space, dim lights overhead, their ragged breaths mingled together, creating an indescribable ambiguity.
"Let go of me." Claire forced herself to resist the intoxication, pressing against Tristan Lockwood’s advancing chest.
"Talking about the past earlier." Tristan Lockwood, reeking of alcohol, gripped her waist and said, "I still prefer that time when you were like a little rabbit."
"Prefer?"
She raised her neck, her voice slightly hoarse: "What right do you have to talk to me about preferences?"
On her eighteenth birthday, she called him countless times, all answered by the mechanical voice of a shut-down female operator.
Later, she followed him abroad, only to be repeatedly left alone by him, and he wouldn’t even inform her before returning to the country.
Now that she’s married to him, he has countless women outside, and his attitude toward her is even worse than a stranger’s.
Intoxication surged, and a sourness filled Claire’s nose; whether it was due to the alcohol or not, her eyes turned red, really resembling an angry rabbit.
Yet the words she spoke exuded a chilling coldness: "Tristan Lockwood, you’re not fit to talk emotions with me."
His grip on her waist stiffened, and he suddenly cupped her chin with his other hand, leaning close until he almost touched her red lips but stopped, saying coldly:
"Do you think you are fit?"
His words and the kiss came down simultaneously, like a storm.
The alcohol fueled their close proximity; rather than a kiss, it was more like a bite. Until pain came from the corner of her mouth, Tristan Lockwood finally let Claire go.
Under the overhead light, he saw her crimson lips stained with his crimson blood.
Claire said nothing, gave him a cold glance, straightened her dress that he had wrinkled, as if nothing had happened, and pushed open the cubicle door, leaving without looking back.
...
After coming out of the restroom, Claire didn’t return to the booth but went outside the bar to get some fresh air.
Footsteps approached from behind, and before she could turn around, a dark blue suit draped over her shoulders.
"The wind is strong, don’t catch a cold."
She looked up, meeting Jenson’s gentle gaze, and softly thanked him.
Jenson stood in the direction from which the wind blew, shielding her from the cold. His eyes lacked the tenderness from before but carried a deeper meaning as he said: "After getting married to Tristan, you’ve changed a lot too. Aren’t you happy?"
She looked at him stunned for a moment, then quickly averted her gaze, speaking in an exceedingly calm voice: "It’s all just a pretense, who talks about happiness in such matters."
"Is that so?" Jenson looked at her profoundly, "Back then, we all thought you truly liked Tristan, even Tristan believed so."
"If I hadn’t acted convincingly, I wouldn’t have gotten here."
Claire remained unperturbed, paused after speaking, and added: "As for Tristan Lockwood, whatever he believes is unimportant. He never took me seriously from beginning to end. And since I got the result I wanted, I don’t care about his attitude."
"Is this really the result you wanted?"
Jenson suddenly turned to look at her intently: "A lifetime of mutual dislike with Tristan, is that the marriage you desire? The future is long; you’ll even have children one day. You know better than anyone what it’s like growing up in a loveless family; would you willingly let your children repeat the same mistakes?"
"You’re right." She tucked her hair that had been blown by the night wind behind her ear, her expression indifferent, "Which is why I won’t have children with Tristan Lockwood."
The desolate chill snaked into her body with the night wind.
Claire thought of Tina Hayes still in the bar and prepared to go back to find her to leave.
But just as she turned, she saw Tristan Lockwood leaning against the car, the cigarette between his fingers glowing and dimming incessantly.