Thud, thud, thud!
Ivy Grant heard the knocking at the door from outside; perhaps it was the inevitable finally arriving.
There was a sense of impatience, but also reluctance when it came down to it. Still, Ivy went to open the door, her movements slow-motion, practically.
"What would you like to eat later? I'm heading out to prepare!"
George Flack's voice was gentle and careful, filled with patience. Ivy was somewhat surprised—had Mallia Mamet not told George yet? If he knew, he wouldn't be this gentle!
"I don't feel like eating anything," said Ivy as she tried hard to read George's expression, but all she could see was concern—nothing else.
"No worries. If you can't decide what to eat, I'll just make some of your usual favorite dishes. That will do!"
Standing there, Ivy felt uncomfortable. She had thought of all the possibilities: either her dad would be angry with her, or he would act normally. But she never imagined he would be so proactively caring.
