He carried her and opened her home door.
It was his first time coming to her home, a two-bedroom apartment, clean and tidy, filled with the breath of life, marked everywhere by traces of her presence, very cozy.
He placed her on the master bedroom bed, took off her coat and shoes, tucked her in, and as he rose, he glimpsed a notebook spread open on the bedside table, seeing his name, his gaze lingered there.
It was Ivy Price's diary, everything inside was related to him, and the page open recorded yesterday:
The senior brought me my favorite strawberry-flavored cake again today, the cake obviously tastes the same as before, but when the senior buys it, it feels particularly delicious. This is the 6th time out of the 40 times the senior brought me something. I hope there will be a next time.
I think, besides bringing all sorts of food to Mr. Allison, the senior also brings things to me. Perhaps… perhaps…
