[HP Doujin] 1943

Gillian threw a tube of burn ointment in front of me.

She looked at me angrily, her brown eyes sparkling: "Why do you turn upside down every time you see Stuart? I really convinced you, why can't you control your temper? What did you do this time to make him so angry?"

I put the ointment on my arm, and the burn bubbles disappeared in an instant, and there was a cool feeling on the skin.

"I didn't do anything," I said, "I met his mistress."

"And he burned you?"

"Pretty much," I said, and after giving her a brief overview of Jacqueline and Eleanor's affairs, I found Gillian looking at me with a weepy expression.

"What's wrong?" I frowned.

"Elizabeth, how can there be such an idiot woman as you in the world?" Gillian said.

I thought that sentence sounded familiar, and I thought about it, remembering that Tom said the same thing to me last week.I couldn't help but get angry. I stared at Gillian, and when I was about to speak, Gillian slapped me on the forehead and said loudly: "How low is your emotional intelligence? Your nervous system is probably not the same as that of normal humans." Same, inherited the troll gene, right? You tell your man in front of you that you don't care if he has a baby with another woman, he's not going to blow up! I'm Francis, and I'm not As simple as pouring hot tea on you, I'll pour Merlin's dung bucket on your brain!"

After being scolded by Gillian, I went back to my house in Yorkshire, thought about it quietly, and felt that her words were indeed reasonable for normal couples.But Francis didn't like me in the first place, I just told the truth, why should he be angry.It was my words that made him feel ashamed.He may think that even if he doesn't like me, I still have to love him with all my heart.

Sighing, I took out of the drawer Francis's old letter describing Charles.Whenever I feel that Francis and I can't live without living in the same house, I take out these letters and read them.My son is the only motivation for me to stick to this marriage.

After this quarrel, Francis didn't even bother to write me a letter.Only Charles' nurse would write to me once a month, otherwise I wouldn't even know if my son was dead or alive.

Becca was with me in Yorkshire, sighing all day long, but dared not mention Francis' name in front of me, because I threatened that if she dared to mention him in front of me, I would make her drink slug juice all afternoon .

He was really pissed off this time. At Christmas, his assistant wrote me a letter telling me that he had gone skiing in Switzerland with his three kids and avoided all the entertainment.I was also relieved to not have to deal with him.

On Christmas Eve, when Becca went back to her parents' house, I lied to the Randalls that I was staying at Stuart Manor and didn't want to go out.In fact, I bought a bunch of food all by myself and spent an afternoon in the kitchen, and the apple pie collapsed and the roast chicken burned, and I ended up with a bottle of Bordeaux wrapped in a blanket Sitting on the sofa drinking alone, listening to the radio, I feel extremely bleak.

I've never had such a miserable Christmas in my life.

The radio was talking about the great Ministry of Magic Christmas dinner in London, which we used to attend every year, and the big names in London.The host said that when Tom Riddle and Adelaide Smith came in, I got so angry that I took my wand and cast a crushing spell on the radio, which blew up the radio.

When I woke up in a daze the next day, it was abnormally bright outside the window.I opened my eyes and found that there was heavy snow falling outside.

I remembered that the wreckage of last night's Christmas dinner and the fragments of the radio were still lying downstairs. I could only cheer up to take a shower and dress, and then walked downstairs listlessly.

"Looks like someone's Christmas was really bad." A sarcastic voice suddenly came over, and I was so startled that I almost lost my foot on the stairs.I held on to the railing to steady myself, and Zara blinked before she caught sight of Tom Riddle, who was lounging by my dining table inspecting the hideous pie.

He was wearing a clean and crisp black robe, a strand of black hair was slightly curled and hanging on his forehead, and there was a trace of mockery on his handsome face.

"No wonder your husband doesn't talk to you for Christmas. For a woman, you can't even make a pie."

"Who said I couldn't do it?" I walked down the stairs, cleared the pie with a flick of my wand, "I just didn't play well."

While cleaning up other things, I resisted my surprise when I saw him suddenly, and asked him in a calm tone as much as possible: "How do you know that I live here?"

"Are you that hard to find?" he said absently, twirling his wand in his hand. "What's wrong with your radio?"

With a wave of his wand, he fixed the radio for me.

"Why are you here?" I asked bluntly, directing the kettle to fly under the faucet.

"As your old friend, I was worried that you would starve yourself to death in the snow, so I stopped by to have a look."

"Why aren't you at home with Adelaide?" I said sarcastically, "When is your wedding date?"

He looked at me, who looked like a sarcastic porcupine bristling at the moment, and was silent.

"May your marriage be as good as mine," I said meanly.

"Thank you." He said politely, "Since you are fine, I'll go first."

"Go away." I said.

He nodded to me, then walked out, until he reached the garden gate before apparating, leaving a trail of footprints in the snow.

The house was silent.I stood by the window watching where he disappeared, and suddenly, tears flowed down without warning.

At the end of January, Francis returned with the children, and in February, his assistant, Jonathan, wrote me to tell me that he was planning to throw a first birthday party for Charles on the Strand in London.

When I got back to the Strand, the nurse was taking the children out for a walk.I stood in the doorway and saw Melinda, four, and Eleanor, five.Melinda was a quiet brunette in a little purple cape, Eleanor's fair hair fell like a doll over her shoulders, her big blue eyes sparkled as brightly as Jacqueline's, and she was dressed in black , still in mourning for Jacqueline.

Charles is still in the pram.He couldn't speak yet, and was lying on the edge of the car, looking towards the door.He had a pudgy face, hair the color of Francis, and eyes as dark and clear as mine.

I looked at Charles, and suddenly my eyes became moist.Eleanor poked Melinda and asked in a low voice, "Who is this woman? Why did she cry when she saw us?"

Melinda never liked me.She pouted, raised her chin arrogantly, and did not speak.

The boys are carrying my things into the house.When the nurse saw me, she quickly said to the children, "Say hello to Mrs. Stuart."

Both Melinda and Eleanor looked at me without saying a word, and Eleanor even looked at me with a hint of hostility in her eyes.The atmosphere was extremely awkward.I took a step back, smiled at the nurse, and said, "You take the children out."

The nanny and the nurse took the children out, and I went back to the room alone, sitting on the desk in front of the window and reading the letters.I didn't go down during dinner either, and stayed alone in the room.

The scale of the birthday party is not large, mainly some familiar friends.I saw Adelaide Smith, who was not with Tom, pale and always looking absent-minded.Several times, she wanted to come and talk to me, but I was always surrounded by other people.After dinner, she finally stopped me in the living room and said in a low voice, "Mrs. Stuart, may I have a chat with you?"

"Of course." I said, sitting down next to her.I looked at her face and felt that she had lost a lot of weight, and that face was not as radiant as before.

"I heard what happened between you and Tom." She murmured, as if a little embarrassed.

I nodded: "It's all over. Why do you ask this?"

"Tom's been a little... weird lately," she said, blue eyes full of pain. "I don't know who to talk to. I'm driving myself crazy."

"Weird?" I said carefully, "What's wrong?"

"He has a strange diary," Adelaide said. "I always see him writing in that diary, but one time, when I was sorting things, I happened to see that diary. The diary It was blank, nothing at all."

"Maybe invisible ink."

"That's what I thought too." Adelaide's voice was tearful. "I mentioned it to him later, and he got so angry that he blew up my table. He hasn't spoken to me for two weeks. gone."

"Don't worry, you're both engaged," I said reassuringly. "He can have a bad temper sometimes. You have to learn to bear it."

"But he wasn't like that before!"

I smiled, not knowing what to say.Tom could be a pleasant, well-mannered man if he wanted to, but when he got impatient his true nature would show.Simple Adelaide obviously never saw Tom's true nature.

I promised her that if I saw Tom next time, I would talk to him.But I have lived in London for three days, and I have not seen Tom.When I got back to Yorkshire, I found out that Tom had written me a letter.

"Elizabeth,

I'll be at your place next Monday night.wait for me.

Tom. "