Her emotions were low and somewhat languid.
Ivy Harrison leaned over, poured away the cool water in her cup, and replaced it with warm water: "Just a girl who took a wrong turn and came asking for directions."
As Madeline Carter's faint gaze swept over Ivy, she was slightly puzzled: "I don't think she took a wrong turn!"
"You can't get to our place unless you're deliberately looking for it."
Ivy's hand holding the cup paused. She hadn't expected Madeline to be so cautious. Just as she was considering how to start the conversation, Madeline herself changed the subject: "Whoever it is, don't let them in. My broken body would be a sin if it tainted someone's eyes."
"Don't say that about yourself," Ivy couldn't bear it.
Back then, Madeline was the pride of the heavens.
She was the top symbol of the entire capital, but now this once-proud person described herself with two words: broken and tattered.
Trapped in shackles, she couldn't break free, nor find herself.
