There are five stages of grief – denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. But of course, in real life, they are never set in stones. At one time, one can experience denial, anger and depression at the same time or any other possible combinations. And it’s ambivalent as well, especially when you undergone something traumatizing at any scale. You would drown in your sorrow, and there will be time when you realize that you need to get better, and that’s what I did – I tried to free myself from the enveloping nature of grief. For a moment, I thought I made it through to acceptance – only for one moment of weakness to drag me back down.

       And I had to start all over again.

       For the first few months after the fall, anger and depression seemed to be the main forms of my grief. I was depressed – I was consumed in guilt, my feeling of worthlessness multiplied like never before, my sleeping pattern was a mess; I could be waking up at 2 or 3 am, or at times developing insomnia, while at some other times I could be sleeping in most of the day. My eating pattern was a mess too. Imagine all of those with both their psychological and physiological effects on my body, accompanied by this persistent feeling of sadness – all the time. It was a horrible experience I would never wish to befall anyone.

       And I was angry – mainly to myself, and more often than not, it was directed to Yi Fan as well.

       Maybe it was a coping mechanism, or a way for me to vent my anger towards myself. Because no matter how many people telling me, and how many times I heard of how the miscarriage was not my fault – I know deep down that it was indeed me to blame. I was careless, and in so many ways, I was ignorant.

       After the first few times, he stopped using protections – for some reasons. I didn’t question it, and started taking Plan B instead. And for some reasons I didn’t want to think of, I stopped taking it.

       I blame myself for thinking that our consummations would never fruit, and I blame myself even more for succumbing every time it happens. Because it shouldn’t. It’s wrong, because of Ma Sichun.

       And for pretty much the same reasons, I blame Yi Fan. If only he didn’t initiate things, if only he kept his ual frustration in check for the three weeks he was not there, this wouldn’t happen. Or maybe, if he and Sichun didn’t get together, things would’ve been in much, much different circumstances. I might even be a wobbly pregger waiting for her due date right now. And maybe, my baby could see the world.

       But she didn’t get the chance.

       And for that reason, I’m angry and there seems to be no end to that.

       At least, not yet.

       ‘You’re cooking?’ He asked, as he pulled out the water jar from the fridge and pour himself a glass of water.

       I nodded. Well, I was certainly not swimming with knives and capsicums and frozen squids waiting to be defrosted on the kitchen counter, was I?

       ' At this hour?’

       I glanced at the clock - it was 3 a.m.

       ‘I’m hungry,’

       ‘You should’ve told me,’

       ‘I don’t trust you with my kitchen,’

       ‘I didn’t say I was going to cook. I could’ve figure something out at least,’ Oh, how I hated the way it sounded - like I was this extra responsibility put on his shoulder.